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in another life…

ac: yuutaguro

this is so funny 😭😭😭

Gojo is the typa guy who would listen to Karma on repeat just because he's Gojo

if you look close enough my face is in a pillow silently crying

I introduce you... Matching! <3

Original artists: @fool_rith and @Ickyeddie (twt/x)

bullying him

The Voice, Part 1/2

VoiceActor!AU. Nanami Kento is the most acclaimed and beloved voice actor of his generation. When the mysterious woman of his dreams is swept away from him in a moment of passing fates, will he ever find her again?

Full credit to @delirious-donna for dropping this into my head fully formed.

The next part will be all smut. No apologies.

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It began with anime; the first embers of your gentle obsession sparked to life, and you felt like the woman who had discovered fire. The voice. His voice.

You were not the only one, you were sure, as you diligently bought audiobooks in his voice, the words steeping in whiskey and smoke; played games with his voice threaded to the soul of a character; watched his voice brought to life on screen, and his characters were tinged with gold.

He was faceless; Nanami Kento, the most beloved voice actor of your generation, was a man of mystery, preferring to stay out of the limelight with stubborn insistence. You did not mind. His voice was enough, for you, soothing loneliness, companionable and smooth. It balmed the sores of your soul.

News outlets hunted for him. People gave up family members and colleagues, touting them as the owner of the voice belonging to Japan's beloved master of the spoken word. You knew they were wrong. Again, you didn't mind. Your obsession held no possession; there was no bite, no ownership.

You simply allowed the dulcet tones of a stranger to lick you to sleep every night. You simply dreamed of knowing him better. You simply dreamed of his voice, guiding you through your peak. In all other ways...you were perfectly 'normal'.

Heading to work in Tokyo snow, you caught yourself slipslid into the downstream of Tokyo commuters, flowing into Shibuya's subway. The crowd undulated in one direction, shoulder to shoulder, and you squirmed through, pressing through the sweat-coffee-toothpaste-cologne miasma until you claimed a spot on a train.

The people packed around you. Your back pressed to another, much broader, much firmer back, and you were quietly thankful for the stability it afforded you. As the train moved, and you wobbled, crying out, you felt the back stiffen and move with you, as if to anchor you. You were, again, grateful, and had to be so without words, corseted by societal expectation.

The train clatter-clattered through the twisting wormholes of the underground, dipping in and out of orange lights. You had just begun to relax, chilly from the morning snow, warmed by the back against yours.

The train screeched to a halt, halfway through a tunnel. The bodies around you cried out as one, shunting forwards with inertia. You heard a grunt of surprise from the back against yours, rumbling through you, a brick wall as you fell against him with a squeak. The cries died out. A few solitary noises of complaint...until the lights went out.

Plunged into darkness, you felt the collective heartrates rise, slow and mumbling, while yours rose exponentially with your breaths. You felt a chilly sweat down your spine, trapped in the dark in a tin can with nobody and no-one and you only barely heard the tannoy announcement apologising for a fault on the line and you'd be moving in a few minutes but it was a few minutes too long and--

"Hey. You're okay. Take my hand."

The back pressed to yours rumbled; it was the only thing that told you you hadn't imagined the voice. The voice. That voice. Other voices around you began to chat, too, societal norm sidetracked by shared peril.

"Just take a deep breath. With me. Take my hand."

Long fingers in the dark. A broad, warm hand clasping yours. You clung, reaching your other hand back to clasp his other hand, too. You stood like this, back to back, both hands plaited, while you gasped, hyperventilating.

"It won't be long. We'll get moving again. You're safe. You're safe."

You couldn't catch the tears before they fell, tumbling down your cheeks as you hiccuped, and apologised.

"--God I'm-- so stupid I-- I'm so sorry-- thank you--"

"You're not, I...I feel it too. It's alright. It's alright."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, absolutely certain to your very core that this man must be the very same man you listened to every evening. The secret voice. The man of mystery. You felt yourself calm, dreamlike as you spoke, stroking a thumb against his palm. You respected his choice for anonymity.

"...are you okay?"

A pause. You felt his back stiffen against yours.

"I'll...be fine. I avoid the subway, usually, but work necessitates it today. I have no logical reason to hate it. There's no reason I should be scared."

You smiled, soft. "A phobia isn't logical. You can't reason your way out of it." You bowed your head, eyes closed in the dark, your heart bounding, unable to pretend you weren't hopelessly, ruinously in love with this man, now you held his hands in your own in some bizarre twist of fate. "And...thank you."

"No. No...thank you." He paused, tapping his fingers against your hand, jittery with his own restrained terror. His words tumbled, unbidden. "Shit, I hate it down here."

"Trauma from an alternate universe or something, huh?" You joked, gentle as you held him, now. "Just...think of it as night-time. In your bed. Calm, and dark, and warm."

"...not usually this many people in my bed--"

"--oh really? There are in mine--"

He laughed hard, kindling a blush in your cheeks, and you rested your head back against his shoulder, glad he couldn't see you. He spoke again, his voice smiling.

"Well if you keep picking up strangers in trains..."

"You call it 'picking up strangers in trains'. I call it 'Tuesday'."

The theatre masks flipped, comedy overtaking tragedy, your worlds reduced to just each other, in the dark. You talked, and talked, all easy banter and comfort. You raised his hand in yours, and he felt a tug in his gut as you accidentally wiped the tears from your cheeks with his plaited finger instead of yours.

"Using strangers as handkerchiefs now?"

"I haven't had my coffee yet, hush."

"What's your usual order?"

"I like a vanilla latte. Why?"

"So I know what to get you."

He felt a matchstrike of success as you squirmed against his back, pressing your plaited hands to your forehead. He let his eyes drift shut, sick of being lonely, maybe ready to let a stranger into his odd, isolated little world--

"...I'd love that. Thank you. And...your voice. I--"

The train rattled to life through the pitchcast tunnel, and he grunted, bracing himself as you fell against him again. He felt a spark of happiness, a lurching joy that you'd mentioned his voice, perhaps knowing who he was all this time but treating him like any other person and shit we can go out for coffee but is it too soon no no she'll respect the secret I've got a feeling she will--

The train lurched again, in the dark, and he heard you squeak as you fell away from him, the startled thump-thump and cries of strangers shuffling in this tin can. A white-orange light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the train rushing towards it, but his hands were empty.

You scrambled to get up from the floor, nobody's hands reaching down for you like his had. As the train bathed in light, you were hidden, masked by legs and bags, and you couldn't see each other, not that you'd know who you were looking for. You rummaged frantically, to get up, get up, come on you silly bitch, and you couldn't, and the train stopped, the doors opening with a tiny announcement.

You opened your mouth to call his name-- and clamped it shut, immediately, face twisted in conflict.

You managed to stand, and turn just enough to see a sea of black hair with pink tips and brown hair with ombre highlights and honey-blond undercut hair neatly parted and a head above the rest and no hair all shaved off and--

The teeming crowd pushed you off the train. You left your heart behind with a man who could not pick you from the crowd, despite his frantic eyes hunting, and hunting and hunting.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento's stomach ached with lost potential. Sat in his chair at the recording studio, the staff there sworn by non-disclosure agreements, Kento read the same line over, and over, and over.

No amount of practice could inject it with enthusiasm, and he snapped, growling his way through the line and pressing his forehead into one broad palm. His agent piped up.

"Oh! That one was good. Stick with that--"

"No, no..." Kento rumbled, miserable. "Not like that. It doesn't suit the character, I just...I'm not in the best frame of mind today."

Kento felt dirty even admitting it aloud, a consummate professional who laid aside his true feelings for those he needed to portray in recording. His agent's eyebrows flicked up, and he sat beside Kento, nervous.

"That's...not like you, Nanami." Ijichi eked out, hesitant. "What's wrong?"

Kento slopped his script onto the side, hands plaited in his lap. He knew before knowing that the only way he would be able to find you, was exercising his own influence over the media world. If Nanami Kento was looking for someone, the whole of Japan would stop to help him find them. And, yet, it was risky. And dirty. And risked scaring you away.

There was no way you could know each other on the quiet Tokyo subway system, unless he decided to go completely gung-ho and stand at a station with a sign looking for The Woman In The Dark Who Held My Hands On The Train And Made Me Laugh which is fucking mental frankly but not mad if it works and it's worth the risk I think I want to know her want to know--

"Ijichi." Kento's agent perked up, his tired face pinched in servitude. "I have a favour to ask. A big one."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

After that morning, listening to Nanami Kento's recordings simultaneously fell flat and elated you, all at once. While their power spun gold through you, with the backdrop of real life connection with him, that peak then crashed, falling into the despondency and despair of knowing you would never have that intimacy with him again.

You couldn't approach him, in any form. Even his agency was a closely guarded secret, and anyone who did find out was swiftly dealt with, you were sure. Hordes of fans fawned over him. You were thrown into obscurity by the sheer volume of the clamouring masses.

The darker, self-loathing part of you seeded the doubt that he'd even want to hear from you. You swung between certain misery that you had imagined such intimate chemistry, and elation over the significance of the moment you had shared.

Weeks passed. You looked at every stranger on the train, sometimes trying to catch their eye, as if that gold thread would connect between your pupils. Any man could be him. All you knew was his voice, the touch of his skin, and the feel of his hands in yours.

One morning, alone and queuing for coffee, it all changed. Your jaw dropped to see the news splashed across a Tokyo billboard, its newscaster silently helped along by subtitles.

The voice of Japan, Nanami Kento, searches for mystery woman!

You froze, your whole body blooming into fine botanicals, brought to life like a greenhouse in summer.

You abandoned your place in the queue, stumbling out of the coffee shop doorway with a little dingaling from the bell above you. Wide-eyed, your shoulder bag dropped to the floor, and you stood, famous in anonymity, caressed by the eyes of millions and none all at once.

**Are you Nanami Kento's mystery woman?**

**Hundreds have already come forward, claiming to be the one!**

**The search begins!**

You grabbed your phone, clamouring to access the same newscast on your screen, shoving your headphones in with trembling fingers. The voice of the anchorwoman fed into you.

"...have already come forward, and Nanami Kento is yet to find his mystery woman!

When the subway train he was travelling on was plunged into darkness, Nanami-san reports talking to a woman who was separated from him when the train began moving again.

Now, unable to stop thinking about her, he has recorded her this message:"

You clenched within, clutching at your chest to hear Nanami Kento, speaking to you again, and your eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill over in one great hiccup.

"I'm not sure how to begin this. To...the woman who held my hands on the train. I'm not ready to leave it there. We had more to say to each other, and I know that you knew who I was the whole time. Knowing that you put that aside, to treat me with kindness, as a stranger...is more important to me than you know. I know you'll be able to answer questions that no other woman can."

His voice paused, and you pressed your fingers to your lips, now weeping in silence in the bustling Tokyo street. He spoke just once more.

"I owe you a coffee. Please...come forward."

As the recording ended, you gasped, a great breath of relief leaving your lungs. Your throat burned with having held your breath throughout his whole message to you. A helpline number rolled across your screen, and you spoke it aloud to yourself, still sniffling, shaking fingers punching it into your screen, until you looked up, and froze at your own reflection in the window.

You felt a familiar pang of disgust with spotting yourself reflected back at you. Your face was puffy, tearstained and mascara-smudged. You drank down every flaw, feeding it into the same positive feedback-mechanism that had fed your own self-loathing for years. Your finger stopped, hovering over the call button.

Nanami Kento was sure to be disappointed. Your hand slumped, your phone resting against your thigh, a number uncalled. Your heart squeezed so tightly, your chest hurt. You deleted the number off your screen. You abandoned your coffee. You walked to work, unable to face another subway journey, knowing for certain he wouldn't be there.

You were sure another woman would come forwards, able to convince him that she was the woman he was searching for.

Between recordings, Kento hurried back to the phone, set up exclusively for him in the studio. He answered call, after call, after call, coolly rejecting woman, after woman, after woman.

You were inimitable. Kento waited. Your call remained uncalled.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Another week passed. Kento's lines went unrecorded as he worked his way through thousands of calls, each one a fake, a phoney, desperately trying to fit their foot into a glass slipper not made for them.

Pulling at his hair, shrunken by despair, Kento slumped with his face in his hands. He felt a coffee nudged in front of him. Ijichi sat beside him, always with a baseline air of nervousness.

"Have you considered," Ijichi began, considerate, "that she's worried about how she looks?"

Kento lifted his face out of his hands, staring into the silent recording booth, fingertips steepled against his chin. His voice dragged, heavy with the effort of another conversation he didn't want to be having.

"I have." Kento responded, thoughtful. "I just...hoped it wasn't that. I'm also aware that...perhaps she doesn't want to meet me, like I want to meet her." Kento paused again, the silence gravid between he and Ijichi, Ijichi's eyes downcast as he listened in concern.

"I should think that's unlikely." Ijichi replied, following Kento's gaze into the recording booth. "If what you've told me is accurate, and I'm sure it is, you two shared an irreplaceable moment. There's no way she could have missed the news, it's the talk of Japan. You felt no ring on her finger, so she's probably neither engaged, nor married. She hadn't finished speaking to you, before you were interrupted."

Kento listened, eyes sinking closed, jaded and exhausted. His hope rotted with rejection, his efforts rust-nibbled and tainted with the embarrassment of pouring himself into the open, vulnerable as he had never been before-- except, with you.

Kento was forced to face that, for whatever reason, you did not want to find him. Despondent, his belly full of rocks, he eyed the connecting cable at the back of the phone.

"I don't think I can handle another woman pretending to be her, Ijichi. I think...I think I'm done. She deserves peace and quiet. I think it's time to call it a day."

Ijichi made the briefest noise of despair, moving to stop Kento as Kento grabbed the cord in the back of the phone, ready to cut it off.

The phone rang.

Ijichi's eyes flicked to Kento, eyebrows rising up to his hairline.

"...just one more?"

"...I don't know, Ijichi. I'm tired of the disappointment. This has been a fool's errand, some horrible wild goose-chase. I'm supposed to be a professional, and I'm so behind on my recordings, and--"

"They can wait. Just one more."

Kento sighed. The phone continued to ring, and with one huge hand, Kento silenced it by picking up the receiver.

You held your breath, sheltered from a storm in a phone booth, chilly with the wet and anticipation. Closing your eyes in the Tokyo nightlights, you could almost be in the tunnel again. You clapped a hand over your mouth to hear his voice, weary and hesitant, but him.

"...hello?"

You gasped, a single great sob bursting forth. Silence on the other end of the line, as you babbled, sniffling, almost drowned out by the slamming of the rain against the glass.

"I-its me, it-it's me. I'm...I'm the woman from the train."

Silence again. A deep, uncertain rumble.

"If I buy you a coffee...what would your order be?"

"A vanilla latte."

Silence again, an ember of hope. "I called it 'picking up strangers on trains'. You called it--"

"'Tuesday'." You laughed, bubbling through your tears.

Kento clasped a hand over his mouth, his face crumpling, his eyes welling up as roses bloomed in his mind. He took one deep shuddering breath, blowing out before his chest could burst with the anticipation.

"Instead of a handkerchief, you used..."

You laughed, and Kento's face finally cracked, laughing himself as a couple of tears crept down his sharp cheekbones.

"...your hand. I used your hand. Rudely."

"Oh, god. Oh my god. It's you."

OMG THIS WAS SO GOOD AND PERFECT I LOVEDDDDDD THIS.

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n—”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

😢😢😢

she's showed him he isn't once again

AWEEEEEEE

gojo won the biggest plush available at megumis request 🐘 (donation prompt)

omfg mitsuyas has me 🥹🥹 i reread it like 5 times

☆ INVISIBLE STRING.

Chifuyu Matsuno, Takashi Mitsuya, and Ken "Draken" Ryuguji as lyrics from Taylor Swift's "Invisible String." Chifuyu owns a pet store and Draken owns a repair shop.

"ALL ALONG THERE WAS SOME INVISIBLE STRING TYING YOU TO ME"

Perhaps the stack of romance novels he had on his bedroom had finally gotten to him, but CHIFUYU MATSUNO was a firm believer of soulmates. He saw them everywhere: in his manga, in the streets, even in the canaries, puppies, and kittens from his pet store. Chifuyu was certain that, just like in literature, he was to get a soulmate of his own. He was the star of his own novel: The Red String of Fate. He was so engrossed in it, in fact, that he swore he had seen a faint, red string carefully wrapped around his pinky. Chifuyu Matsuno yearned for the day in which he would meet 'the one'. Thus, he was blown away one afternoon as you stepped foot into his pet store, with a red string tied onto your pinky, and a naughty Peke J in your arms, bringing what seemed like a 'lost cat' back where it belonged.

"ONE SINGLE THREAD OF GOLD TIED ME TO YOU"

Because TAKASHI MITSUYA believed that, if he could describe the love of a soulmate with a color, he would say golden. All day, non-stop, his little sisters would gush about soulmates, giddily exclaiming how they are one hundred percent real. He would usually chuckle at his sisters' excitement, usually brushing it off as naiveness. He did not believe much in soulmates until he found himself arriving early to school to use the sewing machine to fix his uniform's lettering, only to find you, using his golden thread to sew letters onto what seemed like a uniform. A thread of gold, tying together two delinquents from opposite gangs. You became his muse, his reason to pursue design. It was no surprise that Takashi Mitsuya created a collection based on this secret love, filled with delicate, golden accents, as well as rough, shredded fabric, to symbolize the double lives of him and his soulmate. He titled the collection "The Thread of Gold."

"A STRING THAT PULLED ME OUT OF ALL THE WRONG ARMS RIGHT INTO THAT DIVE BAR"

A hazy, dreamlike encounter. It seemed to have been fate that tied you and DRAKEN together in a place where time slows down. A dive bar, located near Draken's repair shop, was the place in which you ended up, tired from your friends' constant set ups and blind dates as they 'helped' you find a partner. It was time for fate to step in, tugging on your string and pulling you from any dates and making you sit next to a handsome, blond man with a dragon tattoo on his temple at some random, unknown bar in the middle of Tokyo. Ordering the same drinks led to small talk, which led to him confessing that he was there to avoid his friends, as they tried setting him up with women after a breakup with his best friend's sister. Being stuck in the same situation, Draken had a thought pop up on his mind, and even though he was desperately trying to push it away, the sweet liquor had already gotten to him. "Do you think we're soulmates? 'Cause I think so". The dive bar ended up as the place where many dates took place, as it held the memories of being pulled together by the string of fate.

this art style is so 😍😍😍‼️‼️‼️‼️ i love it

the shots and the photographer 📸

im feral.

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A WHAT???? 📢

ac: takk1m on twt

this >>> 😢😢

i hate you

at you and bakugous wedding he reveals his true feelings

★・・・・・・★

“ it is now time for the vows, bakugou we will start with you.”

Bakugou reaches into in pocket and pulls out papers, making sure to wipe his hands against his pants.

looking at you and then taking a deep breath and clearing his throat he says “ about a month into our relationship i realized one thing about you. i was in the shower after a date, you had kissed me for the first time. in my head i declared that i hated you.”

gasp filled the room. bakugou looked up from the paper and into your eyes once again, he saw you taken aback. hearing a faint “ katsuki..” from his mom he knew he should continue.

“ i hated you more into the relationship, i had this feeling in me when i thought about you. i hated it. “

“ i hated the way you came into my life like you owned it, and the thing i hated the most about you is that you made me feel human.”

“ dude this isn’t what we planned “ kirishima says from behind bakugou. him and bakugou stayed up numerous nights trying to find the write words to say to you, bakugou would describe his feelings to kirishima and kirishima would write down a sentence, but nothing was good enough for bakugou so when they finally came to an agreement…bakugou tossed it.

“ For example “ bakugou starts again “ i hate seeing you, hearing your voice, being next to you and having you touch me, everything that you did effected me.”

“ i hated how when i slept i wished you were there, when i shared an apartment with kirishima, kaminari and sero i hated how anything i had to do with them i wanted to do wit you, i hated being alone because you weren’t there to throw me a smile, i hated your smile, i hated when you smiled that was the only thing i wanted to see, i hated feeling you lips on me because i never wanted them to leave.”

taking a breath in bakugou made sure not to look at you, he didn’t want to see the look on your face,

“ the worst part is that i never hated any of this, i loved it. and that scared me to my core. i never thought i would be able to feel this way about anyone, this feeling was so forgine to me “

“ so i shut you out, for the first 6 months of our relationship i was terrible to you. i never gave you any love, or affection. i wasn’t talking to you, i avoided you. i kept us secret. i don’t want any to know that bakugou katsuki was capable of love because you made me feel like a human being not some hot shot hero with a big ego. whenever i thought i could do anything, beat everyone, you always reminded me that i was human.”

a shaky breathe leaves him “ you scared the crap out of me, i didn’t like what you gave me but i craved it, i craved you. “

“ the moment i think about still to this day is the day you told me you loved me, i didn’t say it back. instead i took your hand off my shoulder and walked to the bathroom and telling you that i had to piss. in that bathroom i wanted to scream “

“ the night it all changed is when i heard you and my dumb roommates talking on the. you had begged me for us to have a sleep over and in the middle of the night you got up. i followed you. i heard kaminari ask you ‘ are you and bakugou gonna break up ‘ at that i froze, i listen further into the conversation and when you said ‘ if me and bakugou break up it will be him doing the breaking up, he’s rude and hot head and not very affectionate but those small moments with him are worth it’ “

“ i don’t know what changed in me that night but that was the first night i initiated touch with you while i was fake sleeping “

“ i hate our relationship because of those first 6 months, i didn’t know how to properly treat you and how to communicate my feelings which i still can’t do.” bakugou lets a tear fall out of his eyes.

“ i hate how i never gave you what you deserved, i worked my butt off and tried so hard after that night to show you that i still love you. i love your smile, your laugh, or when you choose to sleep directly on me instead of your side of the bed. how you cook with me, comfort me after a long day, how you play with my hair, how you always snap back at me. how you love to bake with me. “

“ i love those late nights where you and me just talk about absolutely nothing. i love when when you get a tingly feeling in your nose and you stuff and strunchn into my shoulder for comfort. i love how you jump into my arms randomly, i love when you put your cold feet under my shirt to warm them up. i love when you rub my back and kiss my forehead. i love everything about you and everything you do. i hate how i can never tell you how much i love you.”

“ i never hated you, i loved you. and i was so scared to show it. i hate myself because i can never find the right words to tell you anything because even now i still don’t deserve your love. “

looking into your eyes you see tears falling from his and his lip quivering. bakugous fist are gripping the paper at this point.

“ but you deserve all of mine, y/n i love you “

silence came over the whole building..

“ was that okay?” he asked you in a quiet whisper still having tears fall from his eyes.

‘ even when crying you look beautiful ‘ he thought to himself.

★・・・・・・★

chatness this kinda feels rushed and not really thought out but idk i really wanted to write a fic about this. bakugou is bakugou so i’m a firm believer that in the beginning of any of his romantic relationships it’s very hard. also i was think of writing some of these senarios out idk.

currently working on a kuroo x reader and haikyuu multiple x reader so yeah that’s all booya!

i love haikyuu i wish volleyball was real :(

[papamin au 🐅] dog days of summer 🧺

Kageyeama’s “There was.. no one there…” followed up by an immediate “I’m here.” From Hinata 😭

Alright pack it up lovebirds go be boy kissers elsewhere

heheeheehe

I CRY 😢😢😢

❝Despite everything, it's still you.❞

a quote from undertale that made me really think of yuta :) so i really wanted to draw this out

im giggling kicking my feet sliding down the wall hugging my pillow rejoicing in happiness dancing with jubilation

Imagine Nanami Kento waking up from anesthesia after surgery, his bleary and unfocused gaze landing on you (his wife) standing beside him and holding his hand in yours. You smile at him warmly, softly reassuring him that he's okay and that you're right here beside him as he stares at you silently.

Nanami looks down at your joined hands, his gaze seems to focus on the wedding band adorning his ring finger. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at you.

"Who are you?" He slurs, his words sloshy and imprecise. So unlike him, and so very adorable. "Are you a nurse?"

You giggle at Nanami's question.

"No, I'm not a nurse."

Nanami seems puzzled at your response. His brows furrow as his fingers move against yours, thumb stroking across your knuckles in that gentle motion he always does to soothe you. Your smile widens. Looks like there are some things that even ketamine can't erase.

"Wow. You got the most gorgeous smile. Are you a model? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my whole life. You got really pretty teeth too..."

Kento's fingers tighten around yours, his voice falling into a groggy whisper.

"But...I think I'm married. We shouldn't be holding hands like this."

You bite your lip, fighting against the bubbling laughter in your throat and failing.

"O-Oh?"

Nanami nods, his expression shifting from one of appreciative awe to adorable seriousness.

"I want to be a good husband."

Well that just about melted your whole damn heart. Even the hospital staff in the background can't repress their "awww"s and "that's a keeper"s.

"Don't worry, you are a wonderful husband, Kento. I know that for sure."

He's confused again, those unfocused honey brown's searching yours, trying to figure out the situation as best as he can given the circumstances.

"How do you know?"

You raise your left hand, bringing it into his line of sight and wiggle your ring finger, the golden band surrounding it captures Nanami's attention in an instant.

"Because I'm your wife."

Nanami's eyes instantly grow wide, his expression morphing into one of childlike wonder.

"You're my wife?"

You laugh.

"Yes."

He squeezes your hand with a surprising amount of strength given that he was knocked out cold not that long ago.

"We're really married?"

"Yes."

"Wow..." Kento breathes, drifting off for a moment before asking you another question. "Have we kissed yet?"

His innocent yet hilarious question sends you into another fit of laugher.

"Y-yes! Many times."

Nanami rewards you with a dopey smile, his gaze so utterly loving, enchanted by your unrestrained joy.

"My wife." He murmurs adoringly, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek.

"I love hearing you laugh." His palm cups your face. "You really are so beautiful. I hit the jackpot, didn't I?"

Grinning from ear to ear, you press a tender kiss to Kento's fingertips before guiding his hand back down to the bed.

"Alright sweetest man alive, you need to stop talking before you make every person in this room fall in love with you. I'm going to grab a snack for us for later. I'll be right back, okay?"

Kento nods.

"Okay. Can I get another kiss when you come back?"

theyre so lame

based on this:

An Insomniac's Guide to Dreams

konoha akinori x reader words; 4580 synopsis; Maybe he could be her guide to accomplishing her dreams. The kind of dreams where a person falls in love and then magically, as if almost impossibly, stays in love. Konoha could be that for her. She just needed him to give her that opportunity.

Konoha looked at the clock, another 2 am shift that had kicked him from this universe into an entirely different one. Nothing was normal after two in the morning.

Especially not that hooded figure.

Definitely not the hooded figure that was lurking straight to the medicine aisle.

Konoha had been working at the pharmacy as a part-time job, hoping that he could use his experience working at the pharmacy to level up and finally apply to a pharmaceutical company after he had graduated college. He was 20 years old, and his older coworker had shifted his graveyard shift onto Konoha at the last minute.

The grey hoodie floated around until they found what they were looking for. Konoha was trying not to spy on them, but it was all he could do during the lateness of the hour.

She pulled her hoodie down when she slammed a bottle of melatonin gummies near the cash register.

Konoha recognized her from somewhere, he thought.

He scanned the bottle, then remembered he had to ask some questions before selling a drug like this to people.

Yawning, Konoha began the miniature spiel, “You need an ID to buy melatonin, can I see a driver’s license or other valid form of identification.”

She rubbed her dark eye bags and gave him a bored look.

“I don’t have my ID on me.”

Konoha responded, “I can’t sell you the melatonin then.” He grabbed the bottle and shoved it under the top of the table and she hit her forehead against the counter, slapping her hand repeatedly on the counter to draw attention to herself.

“You’re like what, 18 years old? Look me in the eye and tell me that I don’t look 18 years old as well.” She put her chin on the table and gave a huge pout, looking up at Konoha. He felt his mouth go dry.

“I can’t sell you the drugs.” Konoha wishes he could’ve, just the way her eyes glimmered a little in the dull light of the pharmacy had his heart experiencing minor afflictions.

“Really, not even for me?” She stood up to her full height, and leaned over the counter, propped up with her hands on the counter.

How much could an acquaintance from high school grow up in two years? Konoha was now realizing the reality of puberty, and maybe the reality of seeing people for more than their high school self.

He laughed when he realized it was her, the same 1st year from Nekoma who had followed him around during his last summer training camp in the volleyball club. Konoha laughed a little more, slightly delirious from a combination of seeing an old friend and from having stayed up for longer than 24 hours at this point.

He bought the melatonin gummies for her with his own money. He closed the store early, and locked it up as she cradled the bottle in her arms.

“Why are you still awake, isn’t school still in session for you? It's Wednesday?” He remembered that she must be in her final year of high school. Konoha tried to remember how many more days until she was going to graduate, it couldn’t have been more than a month or so.

She shook the jar, before pressing a quick kiss to the lid. “Insomnia is a clinical issue that happens to occur in around 6% of the adult population, it’s an actual disorder Akinori.”

“I don’t doubt that, but you really shouldn’t be out and about at this time. All the creeps come out at night.” Konoha shudders, he had been exposed to too many issues and body parts late at night.

“I ran out of my sweet, sweet, medicine.” She shrugged, and her hoodie slid off her shoulder a little, exposing skin to the cold air. She could feel the goosebumps crawl over her, so she gently rubbed the junction of her neck to her collarbone trying to generate warmth.

He started to toy with his fingers, wringing them out, avoiding looking at her exposed shoulder. And also definitely trying to ignore the way he saw a lack of a bra strap on her shoulder.

Konoha wants to ask how she’s been the last few years. He wonders if that’s something he should even ask. How close were they really?

He asked where she needed to go, and she said she needed to take a train with a few transfers to get back home.

“I’ll take you home, I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to. ‘Master of None’.” He throws her old nickname out into the wind, and she cringes, shutting her eyes tightly.

“Please don’t ever call me that again. What a horrible stain on my reputation.” She rubs the top of her head in discomfort, remembering her younger years teenage follies.

Konoha chuckles into his turtleneck, letting his tan-blond hair cover his eyes as he shakes his head a little.

“I only got called that because none of those Nekoma players would never ever listen to me. It’s like I wasn’t even a manager.”

“But, oh my saints, did you love that nickname when you realized my teammates called me ‘Jack of All Trades’- you tried to climb me and begged me to listen to you explain how our nicknames meant we were meant for each other.”

She coughed a little, feeling blood coursing to her cheeks, she just cuddled her container of chewables tighter.

Konoha realized he may have teased her a little too much, so he softened the blow of his words.

“You were a cute kid. Very passionate. You could talk for hours on end if there was someone listening.”

There was something about calling her a kid, when in reality that had only been just over two years ago. Konoha knew something was shifting in his mind, something that made him realize that he had missed her.

Longing felt like a bitter pill to swallow. Initially being separated from someone who he’d grown close to was painful, and it matted on his conscience. Then as time went on, that irritation of being away from her faded. Her coming in and shopping where he worked had been a catalyst for a reaction where he grasped just how much he had yearned for her. How much he still felt for her.

“Well, you got stuck with me because you were the only one nice enough to let me talk for hours on end.” She pointed out.

He doesn’t quite remember it like that.

She was an overzealous 16 year old, but he hadn’t known that. He was a lax 18 year old. She was a manager for the volleyball team at Nekoma because her grandpa was friends with Coach Nekomata. Her debate season had ended, but volleyball was still barrelling along.

It was a sense of pride, or perhaps intrigue that drove her to put all her focus on understanding volleyball so she could be the best manager possible.

The first day of camp, she was running around greeting all the other managers, bowing and telling them that she was ready and willing to learn from them. He thought she behaved a little bit like a raging storm, nothing able to stop her in her tracks. She was a whirlwind of excitement, and he couldn’t help but want to know who she was exactly.

“Akaashi, you’re smart, who’s that?” Konoha bent forward to touch his toes, stretching before the first practice round against Nekoma.

Akaashi blinked slowly, trying to solve a puzzle in his mind, “Well, guessing by the way she’s wearing a very red jacket, and the way that Kenma keeps avoiding her while she trails him with a water bottle- I’d have to deduce that she’s Nekoma’s manager.”

Konoha lifted his head, pulling his arms from side to side to embrace the tug of muscles in his body.

“They didn’t have a manager at the last practice match we played with them a month ago.”

“I think she just joined. Kuroo was talking to Bokuto about her earlier. Apparently, she can talk for ages.” Akaashi laughed a little, going over to the rest of the Fukurodani team.

Konoha dropped his arms to the side of his body, and when she finally turned around- successful in getting Kenma to drink some water- they locked eyes. He waved politely, and she grinned with all her teeth, almost jumping up a little.

He thought she was definitely cute. A little ball of energy sure, but she radiated something beyond just excitement, she carried a sense of eternal optimism. And that was something Konoha would’ve killed to have as a high school student. It wasn’t that he had an extreme form of depression, or that his anxiety was serious enough to warrant a prescription. But he did experience the ruins of chemical imbalances more so than the next person.

She was inclined to watch Konoha, because he seemed naturally good at all the elements of volleyball. He could do everything at a level that was higher than most, from solid foundational receives to a slightly more technical serve.

To say she was infatuated would be an overstatement, because she really was just a girl with a huge crush on a boy.

Instead of sitting with her own team at the lunch break she had made her way to Konoha, asking if she could sit with him. He looked around, and saw that Komi was using his hands to make an insistent gesture of ‘no’ by slicing his hands back and forth in front of his face.

He had ignored Komi and patted the spot next to him on the concrete stairs into the gym.

Akaashi had been right, she could talk about anything and everything, her mouth moving faster than Konoha’s own brain. He only got to make small remarks when she took a bite of her lunch, chewing on the rice quickly but thoroughly so she could keep going on about a movie she had seen last week.

“What do you think?” She looked at him with expectant eyes.

Konoha swallowed his chicken, “Of Better Days?”

She nodded rapidly, Konoha’s head almost hurt a little at the motion.

“I haven’t seen it, I’m not a big fan of international films.” He shrugged, eating another piece of chicken from his plate, looking out to see groups of boys mingling.

Not once during his time with her at that camp did he wish he had spent it with anyone else. He was completely content just listening to her talk, with her occasional periods of interview-like questions for him to answer. A few times during the camp he would sit at one of the regular tables with an agglomeration of fellow players, and she wouldn’t go over to him.

When he looked around though, she was sitting alone in the same spot they had sat at during the first day. Using her water bottle to draw shapes on the grey pavement steps. He tried to wave her over, but she knew how other people looked at her. They would get this sheen in their eyes that told her that they did not want to listen to her, but that only made her talk more, trying to prove her worth.

Konoha had finished his food quickly, grabbing his own water bottle and sitting next to her.

“Let’s work together to make a drawing of Kuroo as a cat.”

The way her mood shifted, from feeling the sting of loneliness to the thrill of getting to spend time with the person she deemed as the best looking boy at the camp, was extremely beneficial for her happiness.

He didn’t mind filling the role of her friend during camp. He did feel a slight scorn for all the other boys and girls at the camp though. It was rude to be so blatant about their dislike and irritation at her.

On the second to last day, Konoha woke up in the middle of the night, needing to go get water from the vending machine in the gymnasium.

He scratched at his stomach while putting in his coins. Then he saw her, in a thin strapped black tank top and short shorts. She was playing with a hacky sack, kicking it with her knee then when it would land on her foot, she shot it up so she could alternate feet.

She was talking to herself as well. He listened to her chatter about music, about art, about that annoying thorn she’d found in her shoes that made her foot bleed a little. He could listen to her talk forever and never get bored.

Konoha put another few coins in the machine, getting a second can of orange flavored water. She was in the main area of the gym, but she had been facing away from the entrance to the gym, so when Konoha cleared his throat, she dropped the fabric bag full of rice on her head.

“You shouldn’t wear a tank top, it's dangerous.” Konoha handed her the drink when she bounded up to him.

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, “Why would it be dangerous?”

“Someone might think you’re trying to seduce me.” He joked, cracking open his can and taking a deep drink of the nectarine tinged fluid.

Her eyes went wide as she reached down to a bench where she had put her jacket, she slid her arms into the sleeves.

Konoha chewed the inside of his mouth a little. Maybe over the course of a week he’d gotten in over his own head, developing a slight attachment to her. He pushed the thought away, remembering that she looked slightly uncomfortable. He had created a mentality for himself, one where he was supposed to view her like a younger sister. Hell, he had a younger sister her same age.

His stomach twisted a little.

“Sorry. Sometimes my jokes don’t exactly land how I intend them to.” He brought the can up to his mouth again, needing something to lubricate his increasingly drying throat.

She zips her jacket all the way up, the collar comes up to her chin. “It’s alright.”

Konoha looks down to avoid eye contact, trying to find a way to diffuse the slight stagnation in the air, but his eyes only land on the plush of her bare thighs. He could feel his ears turning red when he saw how her shorts dug into her thighs a little, creating a divot, and then the rest of her thigh seemed even more thick.

“I heard that there’s supposed to be really bright stars tonight.” He offered, turning on his heels to exit the gym. She followed him closely.

When he stopped in the center of the field next to the gym, she rammed into his back, getting bounced backwards a little. He caught her by the arm, tugging her upright.

“Woah there, I don’t want you falling for me quite yet, I haven’t even shown you my best qualities.” He snorted slightly.

She buried her face in her jacket, he could see her furrowing her eyebrows in an abashed way. The butterflies in his stomach would not stop fluttering. The little sister comparison stopped right in that moment, as she gave him a shy downturned smile.

It couldn’t have been later than midnight at most, but the way that he kept dozing slightly and opening his mouth to fix the air pressure around his head let him know that he was staying up much longer than he should’ve.

But how could he not, when she was looking up at the sky with admiration.

He pointed to the stars that represented Orihime and Hikoboshi. Everyone knew the story of the two star crossed lovers, a princess and her cow-herder. They had been so in love that they failed to tend to their duties, so her father had separated the couple. They could only reunite every year on July 7th, when the magpies created a bridge for the couple over the milky way.

That night, that they sat together under the stars, had been July 7th.

“I can’t see them.” He could hear the way she was making a frowning face, upset at not being able to see what he could see.

“Here, let me help.” He scooted closer to her, the length of their sides against one another, as he lifted her hand and tried to point out the star Vega, for Orihime. When he was satisfied that she was pointing right at the star he checked in with her, “Do you see her?”

Her soft no comes from much too close to his face. In Konoha’s excitement, he had brought his head closer to hers, trying to replicate what she would be seeing as best as possible. They were almost cheek to cheek.

He pulled away slightly, just enough for some space to exist between them.

“I only see you.” She breathed out.

Konoha choked.

He immediately stood up.

“We have matches tomorrow, I have to get back to bed.”

She got up to her feet, nodding to Konoha’s words.

The last of camp, after all the games were played, and the barbeque devoured by rowdy teenagers.

She was helping to put away bags and other miscellaneous supplies into Nekoma’s bus. And Konoha was leaning against the bus that would take Fukurodani back to their school. Akaashi had shoved his duffel bag into the compartment under the bus and walked to Konoha.

“Kuroo told me that she’ll be their manager for the rest of the season, so she’ll be at Nationals, if Nekoma makes it.”

“Nekoma will make it.” Konoha stated it with finality. Akaashi could see how Konoha was staring at the way she was struggling to lift a heavier bag.

“You know you can go and help her right?” Akaashi inspected his fingernails, suppressing a grin.

Konoha reached into his backpack, ripping a piece of paper from his notebook and scrawling out his phone number. He passed his bag to Akaashi and tucked the slip of paper into his pocket.

She was trying to hoist the bag with her arms, leaning really far backwards. Konoha grabbed the handles of the bag from her and tossed the bag into the bus. She smiled and thanked him.

“Fukurodani’s bus leaves in another hour or so, when are you supposed to head out?” Konoha leant on his shoulder against Nekoma’s bus.

“In around thirty minutes.”

So he asked her what she was going to do over the next few days, and she talked.

She had gotten through around fifteen minutes of talking and was in her zone, completely engrossed in following the rabbit hole of her own mind. Konoha’s hand was sweaty, as he tried to think of just the right pocket in her black backpack to slip his number into.

Eventually, Coach Nekomata told the team to gather around and she bowed to Konoha, saying her goodbye to him.

He just grabbed her by the loop at the top of the bag, rushing to put the paper into the main section of the backpack. She tried to walk forward but was tugged into staying in place with Konoha’s grip.

“Uh, yes?”

“Get home safely.” Konoha beamed, “Alright?”

“Alrighty.” She tilted her head back and forth, twisting her shoulders in a content giddiness.

He moved his head up to the sky and tightened his face, “So cute.”

She wiggled a little, and he released her bag. She asked, “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Okie dokie.” She held onto the straps of her backpack, shifting it around to be comfortable on her back.

She walked over to her team, letting Coach Nekomata pat her head a little bit.

Konoha rubbed his face, climbing into his bus and slumping into his seat. Bokuto got into the seat in front of him, but turned around and put his chin on the top of the chair to face Konoha.

“What’s with the sour attitude, Mr. Jack of All Trades?” Bokuto made a face of intense focus, intent on Konoha’s potential answer.

Akaashi put a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, giving the answer Konoha couldn’t articulate, “He’s fallen for Nekoma’s first year manager.”

Konoha stood up, not realizing he had put his seatbelt on, so he got rope burn around his neck as the seatbelt prevented him from actually going anywhere, “She’s a first year student!?”

Akaashi laughed, grabbing onto his stomach. Bokuto’s jaw dropped.

“You’ve been hanging around her all week and you neglected to ask what year she was in Konoha-san?” Akaashi wiped tears of humor from his eyes.

Konoha groaned, pulling his legs onto the seat as he hugged them.

Bokuto looked at Akaashi, “Well he’s positively forlorn. Did I use that word right?”

Akaashi nodded.

Konoha helped her get onto the train, making sure she didn’t trip from the platform to the main portion of the train. The train was mostly empty, with a few people standing or sitting a fair distance apart.

They sat side by side and she opened the container of her melatonin, lifting the lid to her nose so she could smell the berry flavored medicine.

Konoha folded his arms, bringing one leg to rest over the other.

“You know, I was surprised when, after the camp, you didn’t contact me at all.” Konoha felt a little strange, asking about something from what he deemed as a long time ago.

“How would I have contacted you? Believe me I did want to keep in touch, but we never exchanged numbers.” Just smelling the melatonin had her a little bit sleepier.

“I, uh, I put my number into your bag. When everyone was getting ready to leave, I put a piece of paper into your black bag.” Konoha rubbed his arm, getting ready to accept that maybe he had been the only one to have developed a crush that week.

“Oh, I didn’t bring a backpack to the camp. It must have been someone else’s that I was wearing.”

Konoha slumped into the seat further.

She had finally made the connections in her brain.

“You liked me!”

“It was kind of hard not to.”

“And here I was, living my entire high school life thinking that I had been head over heels for someone who had never liked me back.” She said simply.

“Had been? As in, no longer?”

She pursed her lips a little, tapping her chin.

“There’s something about the phrase ‘had been’. It carries a sense of loss, it carries with it a feeling of belonging. Like what had been was extremely personal.”

“You make no sense sometimes.” Konoha chuckles into his words.

“Maybe something better to say is, here I am. Living life wondering when we’d meet again.”

The train came to a halt, and he checked that this was the stop they would get off on. She tucked her bottle of drugs into her hoodie pocket. The street was entirely empty, and the street lights flickered a little from time to time.

“So, you want to go into pharmaceuticals?”

“Yeah, it’s a decently lucrative business, comfortable enough to live life with some extra money for this and that.”

They stood under the flickering street lamp, Konoha digging the toe of his foot into the concrete ground.

She felt a little bit like the world had frozen in time. Here he was, after two years, drawn to her yet again. She hummed for a moment. Then make a request for Konoha.

“Wait for me.”

Konoha lifted his head to make eye contact with her. Tilting his head a little, he made a look that could only be defined as inquisitive.

She really did love him. Call it instantaneous love, her crush that she had held onto for much longer than necessary, but she felt something for this sandy-haired drug dealer of hers. The way his light brown eyes almost seemed like a rushing sand dune in the right lack of light. Or the way that he had subconsciously reduced their distance from their walk, train ride, to now standing inches apart.

What kind of a person was he to show kindness to an annoying first year, taking her under his wing for an entire week. Solving emotional worries, relieving anxieties of where to sit or who to talk to, making her feel at home in a place that had decidedly rejected her before it even got to know her.

Maybe he could be her guide to accomplishing her dreams. The kind of dreams where a person falls in love and then magically, as if almost impossibly, stays in love. Konoha could be that for her. She just needed him to give her that opportunity.

“Wait for me, one more year, once I graduate. Let’s date.” She grabs his hand, and he lets her. She clears her throat a little, “Let’s give love a shot?”

“I think I’d like that a lot. It’s a deal.”

Dreams aren’t reality. Because sometimes reality is better than a dream.

She was chewing away at a piece of literature, trying to dissect Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams novel for her Sleep Science class. Becoming a Sleep Scientist wouldn’t do much for her own horrible sleep schedule if she wanted to make it through her Doctorate successfully. Despite Konoha telling her that sleeping was important for her well-being, she had the tendency to ignore what he said sometimes- it would only be one more all-nighter anyway.

He’s asleep in their bed, nuzzled into her pillow and not his own. He’s wearing one of her hoodies to bed, her favorite one from high school that had been two sizes too big.

The beige highlighter reminds her of Konoha, and she has to rip her eyes away from him to get back to her book.

Work at the pharmaceutical company had been long, especially with the rolling out of their new drug the past few weeks. Konoha was the head of the project and needed to be at work almost twice as much, even though he felt bad leaving her alone in their apartment for long intervals of time. He always brought home bagels and an apology disc, of a movie she had been wanting to watch, for her to add to her collection of physical copies of movie CDs.

Their shared shelving system was an agglomeration, her DVDs and books on one side of the shelf, and then his photos, astrology novels and miniature telescopes on the other side.

When she accidentally dropped the highlighter onto the floor, Konoha’s head shot up. It was a mess of dirty blond hair from sleeping.

“Aki, go back to sleep.” She coaxed.

“No, it’s cold when you’re not here.” He turned around and opened his arms to put emphasis on his point. “I’m basically a snowman right now.”

She closed her book, tucking the bookmark in. Slinking her way from the desk to the bed, only to slump into his arms and hug him tightly.

“Much better.” He slides over to his side so she can lay out on the bed more comfortably, and she brings her legs to lay on the bed. “I’m all warm now, thanks to you.”

Sometimes a dream is just a girl with the boy who made her feel seen.

Other times a dream is a boy who finally finds someone to let him feel a little more happy everyday.

Max It Out

semi eita x reader words; 7101 + bonus content bc i love this AU synopsis; Band AU. She's the manager. As it turns out, he wants her as more than just the band manager.

“You gotta amp the bass up,” Semi called out.

You just rolled your eyes at him again. There was only so much more you could ‘amp’ his bass up. You couldn’t fix something that just wasn’t broken.

“I think you gotta fix your play style instead. I can make the bass louder, but then the main guitar line would have to be shrunk. Unless you want fizzing during your set.” You shrugged. He really couldn’t manage this gig without you.

It was hard to believe that earlier that day, you and he sat opposite in the paralegal office. Some civil service job, getting assigned to share an office with Semi Eita.

Arrogant, egotistical, damningly attractive. You wanted to wear his clothes and be his prized possession.

“Pass the stapler.” Your stapler, he had been working here for five months and still hadn’t bought his stapler yet. To be fair, it was a genuinely good stapler that you had shipped in from your aunt who lived in Germany.

You opened the drawer under your desk, grabbed the stapler, and then handed it to Semi under your computer.

He peeked under the computers, smiling at you. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“We aren’t in a work marriage anymore. I divorced you.”

“I never signed the papers darling.”

How could he always do that? Make you smile? It was unfair.

Sure, you always ate lunch together. Sure, he always packed an extra set of tissues when you went to the movies because he knew you cried easily. Sure, he gave you his leather jacket during winter on the walks from the hauling truck to the clubs.

But you had divorced this man weeks ago. Work marriage of course. He was just too clingy for you.

There of course had to be another layer to this dynamic between the two of you. The whole band manager thing.

You were nineteen and completely in love with Konoha Akinori. Which was why Semi invited you to help them with gigging the band out.

You had known of Semi, but only really got to know him in college. His center of gravity was alluring, to say the least. You were friends with Konoha first, attending high school together. Konoha was the one who invited you to your first real college party. Except it wasn’t even really a party.

It was five guys smoking, listening to music, and messing with instruments.

When you enter the apartment, Beach Weather’s “Sex, Drugs, Etc.” was lulling in the background.

Semi was lying back on a beanbag, strumming his bass guitar gently. Two boys in the opposite corner were blowing puffs of smoke into each other’s mouths, between what looked like extremely wet kisses.

“Issei, Hiro, do you have to do that here?” Futakuchi Kenji, a fellow class member of your advertising supplemental class, was faking being sick. He had drumsticks and was hitting an empty container of fried chicken.

“You can join in whenever you want Jiji.” The pink-haired one smiled, using his head to motion Futakuchi to join them on the sofa.

“Issei’s breath reeks of mango.”

The one with short cropped black hair, wearing a One Piece shirt spoke up, “Mango-licious. That’s the exact flavor, there’s some strawberry in the pod as well.”

The one referred to as Hiro shoved the one called Issei off the sofa. “Song’s over.” Issei just shrugged, taking another hit from his blue e-cigarette.

Konoha explained that Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro had been best friends for essentially their whole lives and that there were a select few songs that they just always made out to. He said he just got used to it, and that you should too.

You decide to make conversation, “So how do you all know each other?”

Semi chimed in, “Konoha and I used to work together at a tutoring place. Before he ditched it to deal drugs.”

Konoha worked in a pharmacy.

“You worked at a tutoring place,” Shock was evident in your tone of voice.

“It’s not hard to help seven-year-olds with their math homework.” Semi continued, “I know Issei and Hiro from competing in the same volleyball circuit in high school. I don’t know when Kenji got here though.”

“Ass.” Futakuchi rolled his eyes, “I joined this shoddy group of friends when we were all struggling to pass the intro math course. And when I found out we were all decent at music.”

Your raised eyebrow at the music comment made Semi smirk.

“If we play for you, you gotta join our cult.” He minced no words.

Konoha assured you that it wasn’t actually a cult, but it did feel like one.

When Matsukawa had finished hooking up all the proper chords to an outlet machine, Konoha had shoved some bean bags out of the way, and Hanamaki downed several glasses of water, you realized that they were good at music.

The song they played was “Lavender Sunflower” by Tory Lanez. When you asked why they would play a song from someone who was in jail, Semi just said you should separate the art from the artist. Futakuchi said it was because Hanamaki liked to say the word ‘sexify’.

They did a few more covers, ranging from Steve Lacy to Cautious Clay.

You gave them a round of applause when Matsukawa slid his fingers across his keyboard to end their mini-concert.

“I meant it. You’re in our cult now.” Semi had come up from behind you, speaking into your ear and resting his hands on your shoulders. The shiver down your spine didn’t go unnoticed by you or Semi.

Electric Guest; the five young adult boys turned into a decently popular alternative indie band. Semi Eita, on the bass. Konoha Akinori, on the guitar. Matsukawa Issei on keyboard. Hanamaki Takahiro, on primary vocals and autotuning. Futakuchi Kenji on drums. Plus you, the mastermind behind it all. Kind of.

All you did was everything else besides play music.

The first time they played at the Battle of the Bands, you sweat so much that your white shirt was permanently stained in the pits. At least they won the prize money, just enough for a team dinner, entrance fees to the next competition and a new shirt for you.

It was a learning curve for you, learning the lighting, the sound management, and the coordination of schedules as you all got busier. Making a Google calendar helped as the years went on.

The whole band thing became so lucrative that all of you could’ve quit your day jobs and been perfectly comfortable, but Futakuchi claimed that the band was never supposed to be their whole lives. Just a part of them. So, in addition to your band manager role, you also ran the charity on the side.

A cross between cancer research, volleyball advocacy, and music education. The holy trinity of causes Matsukawa claimed.

Electric Guest was never supposed to be the reason for you to stay friends with people from high school, and college. But that was how it ended up. Just a group of boys with their girl on weekend nights playing live music.

Initially a cover band, but it turned into original works.

Semi was always a little too clever to just play others' words. “This Head I Hold”, Semi’s first song that he had written had charted on the IONIC Alternative chart in the Top 100 for seven weeks straight, never falling below the top seventy.

Was he humble about this feat? No.

But did he sheepishly make a toast to how your marketing carried the song to where it was? Yes. So it leveled out in your mind for him to be prideful of his music, of their music.

“Amp it up.” Semi stomped his feet again.

Konoha shoved Semi’s arm. “She just said that she couldn’t do that. Do you just have selective hearing for praise? Maybe she should throw in her opinion on your ass in those jeans between the clarification of why increasing the amp would be bad?”

“Screw you, Aki.”

“Meet me in the bathroom in five?” You could practically see the way Konoha’s eyebrows raised in a jokingly seductive way.

“Semi, I could try to reduce the vocals slightly. I just don’t know why you want your bass to be so highlighted tonight?”

Semi just waved his hand in the air, brushing away your comments.

Rolling your eyes, you sipped on your water, reviewing the setlist for tonight.

“Hey, I thought we cut “Get Out” for tonight? And we never play it as the last song?” You did a double take at the setlist, Semi had scribbled the song in right after their typical closer of “Basic- Acoustic Version”

Hanamaki slid into your booth, downing his demon juice, a mixture of Redbull, Monster, and a shot of tequila. He grimaced, then shook his face, smiling at you.

“Semi-Semi has a surprise for tonight, it’s supposed to knock your socks off.”

“I do like a good “Get Out” moment.” You mused.

“A little more than just a good moment supposedly.”

Hanamaki was always one of the guys from your friend group who could manage to make anything sound more important than it was. He was the lead singer after all. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about the way some very specific words would sound coming from him to you.

That was another element to this Electric Guest thing, the touch aspect. Once they had integrated you into the friend circle, they became your humans. Your people. You all began to function as a single unit. Where one goes, the rest follow.

The Twitter comments on official posts did love to get a little explicit when they posed theories about how all five of you were in a polyamorous relationship.

That time you and Matsukawa got seen with your hands in his hair and his hands on your ass created a good portion of those theories, especially since Matsukawa still openly liked to lick Hanamaki’s neck between songs.

The touching thing just became second nature, to be close to each other was to be genuine.

Futakuchi threw a plastic water bottle at Hanamaki, “You drunkard, come set up your autotune before you’re too far gone. Please chew some gum before you start singing too, your breath reeks on that stuff.” Futakuchi was referencing the aforementioned demon juice.

Semi had started working at the same place you were working after he had aced his civil servant exam with flying colors.

He had gotten bored of lazing at his shared apartment with Futakuchi for entire days on end. He claimed to need social and mental stimulation. You thought it was because he just wanted to have another reason to get to know you better, which was also true.

Semi was strange when it came to you, freezing up in touch before easing into it. Sometimes you and him could just sit in your apartment for hours on end talking about the band, movies, the best hangover food.

He just understood you on an unparalleled level.

You were all friends, of course, Issei, Hiro, Jiji, Akinori, Eita, and you. But you clicked on what felt like a multidimensional plane with Semi Eita.

He knew what you would say before you said it. He always managed to mitigate your problems with simple, clear solutions.

He also always looked a little too deep into your eyes. You felt like he was inspecting your innermost self when he locked his eyes on you.

No judgment, just assessment. No confusion, just curiosity.

“We can always carpool you know,” He swung his keys on his finger as he walked you to the bus stop, “Save you an hour in commuting.”

“As appealing as that is, I wouldn’t be able to do my share of driving, you know, due to the whole, I don’t have a car thing.” Grateful, you rubbed his shoulder in thanks.

“When I say carpool I mean, I’ll drive and you be my live-in car DJ.”

“Am I being used for my amazing playlists?”

“I love using you.”

So you began to carpool. He would pick you up at your apartment 30 minutes before work started, and then you would sit in the parking lot together for 10 minutes listening to your new underground finds before clocking in.

Semi was a great co-worker, truly. He just always used your stuff and spent way too much time going through your computer search history when you took a break.

“I swear I was going to find some kind of band groupie orgy porn on here this time.” He scoffed when you began shaking your office chair with him still sitting in it.

“At work? You’re kidding me”

“Maybe it was just for future reference,” He licked his lips, looking up at you. “You know, for tonight.”

“You’re revolting.”

“You’re an angel.” He reached a hand up and tugged on the front of your shirt, pulling you down to him.

“You make me sick.” You tried to escape his grasp without damaging your new button-up.

“Lovesick.”

There were only a few more hours to go before their show tonight. You had taken several photos of your boys preparing for the show, posting them on all the social media sites.

Using captions such as, ‘ETA: When Semi Eita gets around to it.’

‘Matsukawa’s forgotten mango vape pod.’ (You thought that one was funny because the vape pod was shown to be almost negatively drained more than it could go, he had sucked all the Mango-licious nicotine out of that poor vape pod)

‘Real or fake? I guess we’ll never know’ Attached to a shot of Hanamaki looking at himself in the mirror, moving small hairs around. The fan-favorite think piece was about his hair, genetically strawberry blond or just dyed.

‘Jiji on that beat’ Futakuchi’s head resting in his hands, his knees bouncing up and down in a short video clip. He always got anxious before shows, despite being one of the relatively more popular members of Electric Guest.

‘Akinori’s Asshole Agenda, task one: hide all the free promotional stickers’ Your box of stickers was shown to be empty, but you had another one in the hauling truck that you would go and grab in a few minutes. The ushers at the clubs helped hand the stickers out when getting people into the building.

Futakuchi called you over to the stage. You put your phone back into your pocket and meandered over to where he was inspecting his drum kit.

“The skin on my drum is getting too thin.” Futakuchi traced a white line that stuck onto the kick drum.

“What do you want me to do?”

He pulled out a fresh skin from his satchel. “Help me reskin this bad boy please.”

“It’s not real animal skin yeah? Just synthetic?”

“Yeah, it should go on fairly easily, I need to polish my cymbals.”

You tilted your head in slight anger. He was going to make you reskin his drum?

Semi had finished messing with his bass settings, resting his instrument on the large case he had brought out to the stage.

“Lemme do it.”

“I can re-skin it, it’s fine, Eita.”

He took the material from your hands, “Let me skin the stupid drum.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. That tone of voice subtly said, “Don’t test me” and overtly said, “I want to do this for you.”

You let him reskin Futakuchi’s stupid drum.

Joining Electric Guest was one of the best decisions in your life, and you owed it all to Konoha Akinori for bringing you to that ‘college party’. Semi liked to argue that he was the one to thank for getting you involved, but Konoha always pulled up the text receipts of him asking you to officially be a part of the band.

All your firsts had been with Konoha. First kiss, first boyfriend, first hickey.

A high school crush that turned into a decently long relationship at the beginning of university. Konoha was a great boyfriend, dates were amazing, and he was the one who introduced you to all of his friends, who became your friends as well. He was the one who took care of you when you were sick.

He was the one who cried with you when your cousin died.

You truly loved him. But the piece in your heart for him and the piece in his heart for you just didn’t fit together once you hit 20 years old. It was an amicable break-up, but it still hurt.

Best friends with a rich past was how you defined your relationship with Konoha.

Semi was getting increasingly anxious about the fallout when Konoha and you broke up. That’s how it made the most sense to you anyway.

Why else would he have punched Konoha? The fate of the band was at risk.

Semi would’ve rather died than admit why he had to physically express his anger. Screw the band in that moment, what about you? Were you doing alright?

They hadn’t told you about the punch until nearly a year later when you were all either high or sleep-deprived in your apartment, celebrating another competition win.

What they hadn’t told you was louder than what they did tell you about that night, three days after your break-up with Konoha.

Matsukawa had to hold Konoha back, and Hanamaki along with Futakuchi pulled Semi back from throwing another punch. Konoha’s lip was cut and bleeding, so he spat the blood on the floor of the recording studio.

You just sat in the beanbag in the mixing office, none the wiser, headphones on, clicking away at audio files to make promotions.

The night of the breakup, you called Semi and had him at your apartment. It was raining that night. When he arrived at your place, he was soaked through. You asked about it since a short walk from the road to your place wouldn’t have yielded such a damp appearance.

As it turned out, his car had run out of gas, so he took Futakuchi’s moped. When you wrapped him in a towel and gave him tea, he complained that he should be the one soothing you.

That comment triggered you to start bawling. What if it was all a mistake to break up with Konoha? Maybe he was your best option. Semi said that Konoha wasn’t worth shit compared to other guys out there for you.

You told him that that was cruel to say. Semi tried to backtrack, explaining that maybe better options were still around for you. When you just kept talking about how much you loved Konoha, Semi stopped trying to fight the idea of Konoha and focused solely on comforting you and assuring you of your decision.

Two days later, after Semi witnessed your shattered state, the punch occurred during band practice. He saw Konoha’s phone screen saver was still Konoha and you kissing.

“You asshole, she was crying!”

“I already told you Eita, it was an agreed upon break up!”

“The bruise on her neck then? Explain that you dick!” Semi snarled. Hanamaki was shaking in his Doc Martens, but Futakuchi just kicked Hanamaki and told him to keep holding Semi back.

“The bruise? You mean the HICKEY?” Konoha wasn’t mad anymore, just annoyed, “You know sometimes when people break up they have break-up sex. It’s in the name, you oblivious coward.”

Matsukawa finally let Konoha go. Konoha just rubbed his arms where Matsukawa had grabbed him. Konoha had come to several realizations when he had talked to you about breaking up.

Kissing hadn’t felt right for some time, and you both hardly ever tried to be romantic in any sense. Instead choosing to send memes to each other and joking around. It was being best friends under the label of a relationship.

You agreed to split, letting both of you let go of your long-winded high school crushes.

“Coward? You’re calling me a coward? Breaking up with the best girl in your entire life wasn’t a cowardly thing to do then?” Semi was panting, arms shaking, but he was still kicking his feet.

Konoha knew Semi would throw a fit. So he decided to say what everyone else in the friend group wanted to say.

“You love her more than I do,” Konoha sat down, legs sprawled on the floor. He told Hanamaki and Futakuchi to let Semi go. “Did you know that? You love her more than I do. Which is utterly baffling to me because I love her with my entire heart.”

Semi stood for a moment, a slight sway from all the tension in his high-strung body. Semi crouched down before laying on the floor. Looking at the ceiling, he pressed his lips into a tight line.

Hanamaki, Futakuchi, and Matsukawa had left the band space, choosing to let the two friends talk out whatever they needed to.

They too knew that this conversation needed to occur, primarily for Semi.

Semi sniffles then laughs. A genuine laugh. “I guess I am a coward.”

“Damn straight.” Konoha continued, “I always thought you’d get to her before me. Not sexually, or anything like that. But in terms of love. You know? You just always had her first thing in mind. Whereas I, well, I never cheated and I never considered it either, but I always wondered if I was the right person for her.”

“You think that person is me?” Semi scoffed. “I can hardly call myself an adult compared to you.”

“I know right.” Semi kicked Konoha with his outstretched leg.

“You gotta tell her, or else someone will take her from you. Not everyone can see you’re the best person for her. Hell, even I had a mental breakdown when I realized it.”

“So you’re saying-”

“I don’t want your bullshit, Eita, I want you to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

Konoha told him that he’d be stuck then. So, stuck Semi became.

It was almost an hour before opening the doors to the long line outside Club Karazaki.

You still needed to help the boys with their hair. So you grabbed your comb from your bag and made your way backstage.

“Hairstylist in the house, I take 50s and 100s only.” You patted your jeans’ back pocket, “I need a new phone so this is how y’all will contribute.”

After finishing Matsukawa’s quick retouch on his taper, you took the fiver he handed you.

“You know, I think tonight is going to be one of our best performances.” Matsukawa lifted his mango vape to you, you declined it, and he took another hit. “Semi outdid himself for tonight.”

“Ya’ll overhype that man.”

“Nah, we hype him just enough.” Matsukawa held your hand, “You ever get another date with that dude from a week ago?”

You shook your head, explaining how it just didn’t feel right. Lately, your romantic exploits had all crashed and burned quicker than Semi could begin a riff.

Several of the adventures in romance had ended with an upset Semi, which in turn made you upset. The most recent ‘discussion’ between the two of you had occurred just a week before tonight, about the same guy Matsukawa had brought up.

The band left Semi and you in your apartment, and you offered to let him crash on your futon. Futakuchi refused to let a drunk Semi back into their apartment. Claiming that he would puke all over the new rug he bought.

“I just don’t get you.” He was tugging on his sweatpants’ drawstring and lying on your couch. His shirt had ridden up to his mid-stomach, showing off a trail of dark blond hair that snuck under his sweatpants.

“What don’t you get.” You sat on the end of your couch, freshly showered. He put his feet in your lap. You obliged, scrolling through channels on your TV.

He smelled like the expensive wine your label had dropped off to celebrate a bronze ranking on the new album. You asked how much he had drunk, only now realizing his whole face was flushed. He mumbled, so you lifted the bottle, only to find it completely empty.

“You’ll get alcohol poisoning from doing this.” It was only a mini-sized bottle, but it was expensive and aged perfectly.

“Better than how I’m living now.” He took off his shirt, too warm to continue with the material on him.

He didn’t quite have abs, but he was strong. Broad, tan, and wide. The difference between Konoha’s so-called, “slutty waist” and Semi’s toned torso was striking.

You clarified that he actually wouldn’t even be living if he got serious alcohol poisoning.

“That dude,” You said your one-off date’s name, “Yeah him, he looked like my doppelganger don’t you think?”

He did look a lot like Semi.

At the same time you both added the addendum that his fashion was way worse than Semi’s. Semi just laughed, not even a laugh, he giggled. A 22-year-old child, giggling about how you were insulting your date. Shirtless, drunk, and now rubbing your back.

He had shifted, laying his back on the back of the couch, lightly kicking you so you would sit on the floor in front of him.

His hands were warm, due to the alcohol flowing through his veins. When he dug his thumb between your spine and shoulder blade you moaned. He asked if you felt good, and you nodded.

You didn’t expect him to slide your shirt up, your bare back exposed to the cold air of your apartment. In no time, his hands were soothing down the goosebumps.

“Make your little noise again.”

“Hm?” You turned your head to Semi.

“I want you to moan again.”

Your eyes widened. There was no teasing this time, he was dead serious.

Something was definitely wrong with your best friend, especially when he started to kiss your shoulders, moving to your jawline, attempting to move his lips wherever he could reach. He had slid down the couch, using his hands to pull your back against his chest. Skin on skin.

Your shirt was still bunched up at the back of your neck, but with the way that Semi was slowly sliding hands over your stomach, he had a plan to remove the purple sleep shirt. His maneuvers were snake-like. His intermittent hisses were reactions to your scent, your warmth, and the way your skin tasted on his tongue.

When he cupped your chest with one hand and had the other hand in your hair, you had to stop him. Quickly you stood up, and he cussed at the loss of touch.

“Eita, I think you need to sleep.” You tugged him up from the floor, and he just kept cursing. Incoherently, no rhyme or reason for what he was so mad about. You could hardly understand many of the words, a few distinct ones hit your eardrums: Konoha, coward, sex, music, the band. The most frequent word was your name.

You let him sit on the floor, going to grab a glass of water for him. When you reached into your fridge for a Gatorade as well, Semi was standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Brown eyes just watching you.

“One kiss.” He clearly stated.

You laughed, but he only got irritated.

“I’m serious. Just one.” He reaffirmed.

“You’re drunk. I’ll say it twice, Eita. You’re drunk.”

“I’m a better kisser when I’m drunk.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

You handed him the water. He downed it. You handed him the Gatorade. He sipped it. He probably had a reason for asking.

“Is it for a song?” You touched the bottom of the Gatorade bottle, lifting it closer to his mouth so he would take another drink. Semi angrily rolled his eyes, why would that be his only reason for asking to kiss you?

“If I say yes will you kiss me.”

You shook your head no. He was clearly inebriated. You didn’t know how he would feel about this in the morning, and you knew the alcohol was altering him.

It had been two years since you broke up with Konoha. You had promised that you wouldn’t date another member of your friend group. It just wouldn’t work. Plus with the new label intervention as well, they tried to subtly say that dating within the band could cause some scandals.

But they were an alternative indie band, so the label let a lot of the little things go.

But openly dating? Ruining the image of attainability? They just told everyone to keep relationships to a minimum, and if they did want to date, then you should be off limits.

Semi had never seemed more pissed at a formal organization, he ranted to you about how as soon as the three-year contract was up that Electric Guest should go back to being entirely independent.

You agreed, for the most part, just letting him consider how much easier it was for him to get creative licensing protection on his songs. He just said that working at the paralegal office would be enough skill to get legal protection on the music.

Semi cleaned up the Gatorade, tossing it into the trash can. You found yourself in a corner, the sink to your right, and the fridge to your left, Semi in all other directions.

Never had you seen his eyes so blown out. Not even after one of the longer smoke sessions, Matsukawa liked to cook up.

“If you can tell me you don’t love me then I’ll let it go.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Eita, what? Of course, I love you. What are you talking about?”

“If you can tell me you haven’t thought about me when you were touching yourself. If you can tell me that you haven’t thought about my lips on you. If you can tell me that you never considered me as an option. If you can say that then I’ll drop it. Otherwise, please let me kiss you.” You paused your breathing. He looked at you. “And don’t use my blood alcohol content as an excuse.”

“I need a minute.” You gently pushed your hand on his bicep.

“I have time.”

You glanced at the microwave clock.

1:28 AM.

He started kissing you at 1:29 AM.

You didn’t stop him.

It was slow at first, gentle even. He started at your neck. Biding time before he got to where he wanted to go. He nipped along your jaw. Your hands were resting on his chest, your breath baited.

When he picked you up and sat you on the counter, you knew you were a goner.

He guided your hands to his hair, his shoulders, and his hips, telling you to just touch him and not stop. He gave himself 15 minutes. You didn’t know this, but he was only using 15 minutes. From 1:29 AM to 1:44 AM.

When he starts to rub his hips against yours, you wish you could’ve stayed like this for hours. You could feel the outline of his body through the sweatpants, and each time you made another sound, his hips just stilted before rubbing again with more pressure.

His first lip-to-lip kiss with you was dry. He just pressed your lips together. He paused, just letting the touch process in his mind. When you pressed back, he smiled into the kiss.

He could immortalize the kiss later, he still had 7 minutes left.

He wanted to reach his hand down into the front of your pants but knew you would draw the line there. His alcohol solution became the one barrier he wished he didn’t have at the moment. Especially when he could feel the way your thighs were shaking slightly, anticipation was a bitch.

He gently, lightly, wrapped one hand around your neck. The other hand was under your shirt doing things you couldn’t quite make sense of because his tongue was in your mouth. His thumb was distinctly writing the letters of his name over your nipples.

When the clock turned to 1:40 AM, he turned ravenous. He pressed his lips everywhere on your face, forehead, nose, chin. Dry turned to wet, and he knew you were covered in his saliva. You groaned slightly when he gave in and cupped the front of your shorts. Before he removed his hand in favor of just grinding against you again.

He was panting when the clock finally ticked to 1:44 AM. Semi tucked his head into the nook between your shoulder and neck. His arms under your shirt hugged you tighter, making you feel like a boa constrictor was attempting to cut off your oxygen supply.

“I’m tired.” You ran a hand through his hair. Telling him to let you go so you could get his futon. He shook his head, pieces of hair tickling you. He wasn’t tired physically, he was tired mentally. To hold back from someone you were magnetized to, spent all his energy. Until his willpower to fight the pull force was just entirely gone.

“Second door on the left?” He spoke right into your skin. If he had gotten this far, one last ditch attempt to feel all of you might just be his lucky opportunity. The second door on the left was your bedroom.

You nodded.

In the morning, you woke up to Semi tracing shapes on your thigh that was laid across his stomach.

He spoke first.

“We can talk about it after the show at Karazaki.” He had begun running his hand on your head, starting at the top of your head before sliding down to your nape. He repeated the soothing caress so many times you lost count.

“Ok.”

The doors finally shut, and all the people at Club Karazaki were finally ready to be blessed with the music from none other than Electric Guest.

The two-hour show went off without a hitch.

Konoha’s guitar solo got the most bras thrown at him. Futakuchi’s reverb of Arctic Monkeys’ “Knee Socks” had the most phones recording him, his drum set and single verse got more viral video and editing clips than you would know how to manage. Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s duet singing “Oh Devil” from the new album almost made you scream for them too.

It was finally time to close off the show, with Semi’s addition of “Get Out”. You couldn’t help but get thrilled at the idea of hearing your favorite song one more time before he planned to officially cut it from the setlist.

Instead of Hanamaki, Semi cleared his throat, thanking the audience for their time, and that the last song was going to be a crowd favorite.

Hanamaki stepped back. Now, the main singer of a band did not just simply step back and out of the primary light. You fidgeted with the system, getting equal lighting on everyone. The red slow strobe was always a good default, especially since you had no idea what was going on.

“I’ll max it out one time for you.” Semi sang.

This wasn’t the revised ending song. It wasn’t even “Get Out”, the song you had believed to be Semi’s bonus on the setlist. You clicked into your headphones, trying to contact Konoha. Radio silence on your end. Standing up in the back of the club, you waved your arms rapidly. Trying to get Semi’s attention.

What the hell was he doing?

“You should never worry, you’ve been here a long time.” His bass guitar was strumming to the beat of your pulse, just fast enough to keep you alive, but steadily increasing in speed. Matsukawa’s keyboard was playing perfectly in tune. So at least you knew they had practiced this song before.

Maybe more than one practice though, because the flow of the music was just too smooth. You sit back down, and instead of leaving the blaring red strobe lights, you cool it down. A light blue focal light on Semi, with grays and whites on the other band members.

It matched with the RnB edge this song had.

“Now you’re in a hurry. Feels like a long way home.”

He moved up more, tugging on the chord connecting his guitar. He stood in the center of the stage.

His vocals were stunning. Usually, it was Hanamaki singing, with Semi doing the backing vocals. But this was all Semi’s scratchy, deep, resounding, pleading voice. He sang like he was begging for a lifeline.

“You’re just the light I follow.” He wasn’t closing his eyes, he was looking straight at you. You looked behind yourself, only seeing the black wall. You checked in front of you to see if any girls you were familiar with were standing in front of your systems booth. But no, the crowd was just packed with dedicated fanboys and fangirls tonight.

“Right now you just can’t see. I’ll feel the same tomorrow. ‘Cause a good thing is falling on me.”

So this is what all your boys had been talking about. Semi’s special show.

“I’ll max it out one time.”

What a nerd.

“And I know they go on and on and on, I know you’re growing tired of me.”

You’d never get tired of him. And somehow you knew that he knew that.

“And even when you're nervous, or you’re feeling out of order”

Hanamaki had joined in, singing the backing lyrics at this point. Semi just kept looking at you.

“I’m somewhere right next to you, singing you the chorus.”

He’d always been clingy.

“I’ll max it out one time for you, ‘Cause I know it’s overdue.”

Hell yeah, it was overdue.

“So, I raise my glass to you.”

He raises his bottle of water.

An uncontrollable smile erupts over his face. The crowd is in shambles. People were screaming, some were off in a tucked away corner kissing, and someone was getting pulled off the gate to the stage by security.

He doesn’t sing anymore. He mouths the words to just you.

“I love you.”

So there they were, Electric Guest. Sitting in a run-down 24/7 diner laughing and throwing fries at each other.

So there they were; Semi and you. He had his arms around you, chin resting on your shoulder, joking about the time Konoha had spilled his weird mixture of mayo and ketchup all over a borrowed white shirt.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were pinching each other under the table.

Futakuchi and Konoha were arguing about who got more tagged posts on Instagram.

“I think we should adopt a baby or something.” Hanamaki waved Matsukawa’s vape in the air.

“You would be arrested in like two seconds. You can barely function as a human being Hiro.” Futakuchi ate another fry, starting to list off all the reasons Hanamaki would make a horrible parent figure. Matsukawa kept trying to get another hit from his vape, but Hanamaki just kept waving it around.

You turned to face Semi, but he was already looking at you.

“Max It Out?” You brought up the title of his Not Confession, confession song.

“I wanted to title it your name, but no, that would be too on the nose for some people.” Semi glared at Konoha.

Konoha shrugged, “Eita, you always go on and on about increasing your bass, I thought that ‘Max It Out’ would just click better with the average audience. You know, the same audience who wasn’t exactly there to witness you groping on our friend here last week.” Konoha patted your thigh.

Futakuchi dropped his fry. Complaining that he was always the last one to know what was going on with his friends.

“I wouldn’t call it groping, maybe loving, but not groping.”

“That could be a good lyric for our next song,” Matsukawa brought his hands up to motion them in a rainbow shape, presenting an idea, “we could call it, ‘I Had Sex With My Best Friend Who I Pined After Since I Was Nineteen, I Also Passionately Care About Her And Ended Up Punching Her Ex-Boyfriend Who Is Also My Other Best Friend’ I think that has a real ring to it for a song title.”

Semi rolled his eyes, “Not looking like that title would fit with the rest of our catalog.”

You consoled Matsukawa by handing him back the fiver he gave you for trimming his hair.

Futakuchi, still upset at not knowing about you and Semi’s incident, posed a question, “Well if Aki, Eita, and I have all kissed you, where does that leave Issei and Hiro?”

Semi’s mouth dropped open, “When did that happen?”

“Our kiss? Uh, I can’t remember. But we did.”

You shrugged, it wasn’t your best moment. But Futakuchi had been a very good kisser. “After advertising class ended. I was having a moment about where my life was going.”

“I still think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve kissed so far.”

Semi groans. “This is so unfair. I waited over four years, but Jiji and Aki got to kiss you before me?”

“Slow your roll Eita, if we keep this up, maybe we will end up in a polyamorous relationship.” Hanamaki analyzed, and you knew all about his thoughts about that situation occurring. He had told you several times that if a six-person relationship did exist, then it still wouldn't be as amazing as the dynamics between all of you.

“No more kissing other people,” Semi rubbed your elbow, “You’re stuck to me now. Might as well stay with the one with the best dick.”

You nodded. Semi grinned, waiting expectantly.

“This is the part where you start listing off other good qualities about me.”

“Nope, I think you listed them all.”

Konoha stuck his tongue out and mocked Semi’s claims about genitalia.

After a copious amount of french fries, and enough jokes about everything that had happened the last few years, Semi and you walked hand in hand to his car.

“I got a new bass booster in my car.”

“Why exactly?” You buckled yourself, before reaching over and buckling Semi in as well.

“So I can blast our favorite songs while making you scream.”

There he was, your flirting, egotistical, arrogant, loving best friend. You nixed the best friend part in your head, writing ‘soulmate’ in place.

“Also, can you rescind the whole work-husband divorce claims?” He rested his hand on the back of your seat while backing up his car. Flexing his arm on purpose.

“Sure, there’s a few things you’ll have to do before I officially call you husband again.” You listed off chores, errands, and body parts.

Semi licked his lips, “I can do that.”

---

BONUS:

Playlist for all the music nerds out there: (aka my headcanon of 'Electric Guest's Latest Album)

"Max It Out" - Electric Guest --- The main song from this fic, Semi's confession fic. It was not the only confession song he wrote though. One day, all the lyrics he wrote became less about teenagerhood and fun and genuinely about love.

"Get Out" -Electric Guest --- Our main character's favorite song, it's about exceptionalism. If you can't handle the heat, don't play in the arena. Also about gambling and not going back to toxic people. MC is an icon for sure for having this as her favorite song (Max It Out is her actual favorite, but would rather die than tell Semi)

"This Head I Hold" - Electric Guest --- Matsukawa's favorite, he gets to start the song off with his keyboard. Also Matsukawa's favorite because it's about getting high. The druggie energy is strong with him.

"That's What Happens" -Kid Bloom --- An unreleased Semi song, depression hit him hard when he and Konoha had their heart-to-heart. He kept it locked away until this very specific album release. When he went into detail telling our main character about why he wrote the song, she had to wipe tears from the corners of Semi's eyes, give him love please.

"Window Pane (Pretty Little Thing)" - GSoul --- Hanamaki's favorite song off their newest album, mostly because he helped to write the lyrics, but he'll still love to sing "Lavender Sunflower" because no words sung will ever top "sexify" for him.

"Hold Me" - Hojean --- Futakuchi's favorite song from the new album because the drums are the most heavily featured at the core. And because the autotune is heavy enough to let him pretend Hanamaki isn't the one singing.

"Wake" - Jiwoo --- When Semi wrote this one, Konoha had spent hours trying to figure out who it was about. To Konoha's shock it was about his ex-girlfriend turned into lifelong best friend. Konoha almost got revenge by punching Semi and telling him that it had already been two years, and that someone would make a move soon. Semi then explained his idea for his confession. Konoha realized his friend may be an actual genius.

"Oh Devil" - Electric Guest --- Konoha's favorite song off the new album, he spent the most time in the recording studio practicing this one, he even picked up some additional instruments to help produce it to its highest potential.

"Basic" - Electric Guest --- Semi's hate-piece to the label and to other bands who had been calling out Electric Guest's unconventional style choices. The label thought this one would be the least streamed, jokes on them because it got TikTok famous (courtesy of Semi's newly shown off girlfriend making hot edits for each of the band members)

"Charismatic" - Hailey Knox --- Hanamaki's only duet with a woman. The singer loved what they were doing, and asked to be the main vocal on a b-side song. When all was said and done, Hanamaki and Matsukawa finally had another person to blow smoke with when listening to "Sex, Drugs, Etc."

THISBWAS SO CUTE ILYSM FOR THIS 😢😢😢

hey hey!!! I read your social anxiety fic with megumi and just wanted to say first, that it was amazing like actually shit got me tearing up at how sweet it was 😭

And secondly!! Could I maybe request a Megumi x Reader who tends to cling on people she trust's arms alot? But after meeting Megumi she starts to only cling to him. Like full on arm wrapped around his one arm. Sorry if it's too much and have a nice day!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀CLING-CLINK .ᐟ

megumi fushiguro x 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿.

☆ before meeting you, megumi often sees you around school, always clinging into yuuta's arm, even satoru gojo's arm like when a child learns how to cross the street and have to hold into their parents, until he meets you.

fluff, p.s i'm sorry if i don't make your request good enough, but i hope you like it :)

megumi fushiguro stood in the distance, his gaze fixed on a scene unfolding across the school grounds. the golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows, creating an almost surreal backdrop. among the students scattered about, one figure caught his attention. you were walking with satoru gojo, clinging tightly to his arm, your face lit up with a radiant smile. gojo, as always, exuded his usual charm, his blindfold hiding his eyes but not the amusement on his face. the two of you seemed completely absorbed in your conversation, oblivious to the world around you.

megumi squinted, trying to place you. you looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite pinpoint where he'd seen you before. the way you clung to gojo's arm so naturally, so effortlessly, stirred something in him. it wasn't jealousy, exactly, but a mix of curiosity. “who is she?” megumi wandered to himself, watching as you laughed at something gojo said. “and why is she always so close to him?”

he had noticed you a few times before, always attached to someone else's arm— mostly your teacher, satoru gojo and the second year student, yuuta okkotsu, always so animated and lively. it wasn't just gojo; you seemed to have a habit of clinging to people. it puzzled him. was it a sign of affection? a need for reassurance? or just a part of your personality?

megumi wasn't one to judge, but he found it difficult to understand. he preferred his own space, his own quiet corner of the world. the idea of being so physically close to someone, especially in such a public setting, was foreign to him.

as he watched, gojo said something that made you throw your head back in laughter, your grip on his arm tightening momentarily. the sight brought a small, involuntary smile to megumi's face. there was something undeniably endearing about your openness, your willingness to express joy so freely. still, the question lingered in his mind. why did you always cling to people like that? was it a habit, a comfort, or something more?

yet he found himself another encounter of you with his senpai, yuuta okkotsu. that day megumi fushiguro stood in the shadow of a tall tree, his eyes scanning the school grounds as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over everything. his gaze settled on a familiar figure in the distance. you were walking with yuuta okkotsu, your arm firmly looped around his as you strolled together.

yuuta, with his kind and calm demeanor, seemed perfectly at ease with you by his side. he wore his usual gentle smile, listening attentively to whatever you were saying. your animated gestures and bright laughter filled the air, making it clear how much you enjoyed his company.

megumi's brow furrowed slightly as he watched. you, always close to someone, always with that same cheerful energy. it was almost like you thrived on the connection, the physical closeness to others. “why is she always like that?” megumi thought to himself, his mind drifting back to the other times he'd seen you, clinging to one, two, max three people around the school. it wasn't just yuuta—he'd noticed you with others too, always the same, always so tactile and open. he couldn't help but feel a bit perplexed.

as you and yuuta continued to walk, yuuta said something that made you laugh, your grip on his arm tightening slightly, just like how you were with gojo. the sight brought a small, involuntary smile to megumi's face. there was something undeniably endearing about your openness, your willingness to express joy so freely and without reservation.

but the same question remained. why did you always cling to people like that? eas it a habit, a comfort, or something deeper?

“maybe she's just really friendly,” he mused, recalling how at ease you seemed with both gojo and yuuta. “or maybe she needs that kind of connection to feel secure,” he thought about the way you laughed with gojo, how your whole face lit up with genuine happiness. then he remembered how relaxed and content yuuta looked with you by his side, as if your presence was a natural part of his day. it wasn't just that you clung to people; it was the way you seemed to bring out something brighter in them, a lightness that megumi couldn't ignore.

“is she like that with everyone?” he wondered. “or is there something special about gojo and yuuta?” the thought nagged at him. he couldn't quite place why it bothered him so much. was it jealousy? curiosity? or simply a desire to understand something so different from his own nature?

megumi fushiguro sat in the shadows, watching you from afar, his mind swirling with a thousand 'what ifs.' he couldn't understand why such a simple thing—someone clinging to another—bothered him so much. it was common enough, something he saw every day, yet whenever it involved you, it gnawed at him. he wonder and wonder why, how, where, and when about you. it's just a simple thing, everyone clinging to everyone, but why does it bother him that much?

“why does it affect me like this?” he thought, frustration bubbling inside him. “why do i care so much?” it wasn't just about you clinging to others. it was how people reacted around you, how comfortable they became in your presence. they acted as if having you wrapped around them was as natural as breathing, as easy as walking, even though it should have been a hindrance. it baffled him how seamlessly you fit into their lives.

how he feel if he's the one you clinging to?

at one point, the one 'what if' crossing his mind, the thought slipped, unbidden, and since that day, megumi couldn't shake it. the curiosity melted inside him, merging with his blood, becoming a part of him. every time he saw you, the question lingered, refusing to let go.

days turned into weeks, and the thought only grew stronger, until one day, fate gave megumi a chance to get to know you. he approached cautiously, his usual stoic expression hiding the turmoil inside. he found you to be warm, bright, full of life. your energy was infectious, your smile lighting up even the darkest corners of his mind.

he worried that he might extinguish your light if he got too close, afraid that his touch might dim your radiance. but then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, you wrapped your delicate arms around his. megumi's heart raced, pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. he'd never felt anything like this before. it was as if a bell rang inside his mind, each beat of his heart echoing with the sound. your touch was gentle, yet it set his nerves alight, a single act of affection that shook him to his core.

in that instant, megumi realized why it had bothered him so much. it wasn't just about the act of clinging; it was about the person. It was about you. the thought of you being close to others had ignited a jealousy he hadn't recognized, a longing he hadn't understood.

and now, as you clung to his arm, megumi swore he could feel his world shift. in that moment, he knew that your warmth, your light, was something he wanted to protect, to cherish. and for the first time, he welcomed the feeling, embracing the connection you offered with open arms.

“fushigurooo,” your honey voice, echoes through the wooden wall of your school. a bright smile reached your eyes, shaping them into crescents as you skipped your way over to him. you were always full of life, a burst of sunshine on even the dullest days.

yuuta was there, but you don't even spare the boy a glance, your arms finds their own home naturally— megumi's arm. the second year and the first year decided to go on break after the training that day, strolling around tokyo for treat with gojo's money.

“fushiguro, how's your day?” you ask him, smiling as you look up at the taller boy. megumi looks down at you, watching how you comfortably clung around his arm, refusing to let go.

smiling, the blue-irised boy answered, “it was good, y/n, how's yours?” he pulled his arm closer to his body, and with his expectation you followed along until there was no void, a distance megumi refused to stand. the tumultuous roads of tokyo, but all he could ever listen to was your sweet voice, telling him about how's your day going. the chaos of the city faded into the background, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, walking

the streets of tokyo were alive with energy, filled with the sounds of chatter, laughter, and the occasional honk of a car horn. despite the chaos, megumi's focus remained on you. you animatedly recounted your day, your voice a soothing melody amid the city's cacophony.

yuuta walked a few steps behind, giving the two of you space. he couldn't help but smile at the sight, understanding that something special was unfolding. gojo, always the observer, watched with a knowing grin from the back, making a mental note to tease megumi about it later.

as you continued to talk, your hand lightly squeezed megumi's arm. “and then, we tried this new dessert place. you have to come with me next time, fushiguro. the matcha parfaits are to die for.” megumi chuckled softly, his usual stoic expression softened by your enthusiasm. “i’ll keep that in mind. it sounds good.” you beamed up at him, your eyes twinkling. “it really is! oh, and guess what? i found this adorable bookstore tucked away in a side street. they have the cutest stationery.”

megumi nodded, listening intently, savoring each detail you shared. he found himself looking forward to these moments more and more, where he could just listen to you, forgetting about everything else.

the group eventually reached a cozy café, its exterior adorned with fairy lights and flowering plants. gojo, ever the generous mentor, insisted on treating everyone. you pulled megumi inside, your excitement contagious as you marveled at the menu. “what are you getting, fushiguro?” you asked, glancing up at him with those bright, expectant eyes. megumi scanned the menu briefly before deciding. “maybe just a coffee and a pastry. what about you?”

you giggled, nudging him playfully. “you’re so predictable. i think i'll go for the strawberry shortcake and a matcha latte.” as you made your decision, megumi chuckled lightly at your predictable choice. megumi rolled his eyes at your comment, a light smile playing on his lips. “and you’re too extravagant with your tastes,” e teased, his eyes flickering over the menu, scanning the options before settling for a black coffee and a small blueberry tart.

“seriously, always with the sweets.”

as light as a feather, teasing lingering in his voice the moment his soft smile reached you. after placing your orders, you found a cozy corner to sit in. he followed you to the booth, leaning against it casually as they waited to order. megumi noticed how you made sure to stay close, your arm brushing against his side as you continued to cling to his arm. it was a small gesture, but it made his heart race.

“honestly, your sweet tooth knows no bounds,” he teased, eyeing the array of pastries behind the glass display case. “i’m amazed you don’t turn into a sugar cube after all the sweets you consume.”

“oh come on,” you retorted with a small giggle, smacking his arm playfully. “i don't consume that much sugar. it's called enjoying life, you should try it sometime.” megumi chuckled lightly at your retort, his gaze lazily drifting towards the pastries on display. “enjoying life is one thing. drowning it in excessive sweetness is another.” he shot you a teasing smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement.

you rolled your eyes in faux annoyance, giving his arm another light smack. “you’re just being a party pooper. i bet you're secretly jealous because I know how to savor the little things.” megumi chuckled again, enjoying the lighthearted banter. he found himself getting more comfortable as the conversation continued, the ease of your presence making it feel natural. but even with the casual teasing, a hint of affection snuck into his voice.

“jealous? if your sugar addiction? hardly.”

“shut up, just let me be,” you murmur, your voice tender and suffused with warmth. your arms, once wrapped around him, slowly release their hold and slide down to gently grasp his large hand. the warmth of your touch lingers through the fabric of his uniform, yet it ignites a searing sensation within him.

his gaze descends to where your hand clasps his thumb, noting the delicate strength in your touch. the crimson flush on your cheeks deepens as you avert your gaze, trying to hide the tumult of emotions roiling within. his heart quickens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the connection between you both deepening with each intertwining motion.

in that quiet, intimate moment, the world seems to shrink to just the two of you. the warmth of your hands melds with his, bridging the space between your hearts, creating a sanctuary of understanding and unspoken promises.

as the minutes passed, the conversation flowed naturally. you talked about everything and nothing, your laughter a soothing balm to megumi's usually serious demeanor. the bustling café seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

when the food arrived, you eagerly shared your dessert with megumi, insisting he try a bite. he obliged, savoring the sweet taste and the way your eyes lit up when he complimented it. “this is good,” he admitted, causing you to grin triumphantly. “i told you so,” you replied, your voice filled with delight. as the day turned into evening, the group eventually decided it was time to head back. you clung to megumi's arm once more, your presence a comforting constant. megumi's mind was filled with a thousand thoughts, each one circling back to you.

and in that moment, he realized that having you by his side wasn't just something he tolerated. it was something he cherished. you were the warmth in his life, the light that made even the busiest streets of tokyo feel like home.

the touch of your hand intertwined with his began to stir something deep within him. the vibrant cityscape of tokyo seemed to blur into the background as he focused on the warmth that lingered between your fingers. it was in this quiet, intimate moment that a profound realization dawned upon him.

he recalled the countless times he had seen you with others—always reaching out, always seeking a connection. it wasn’t merely the physical closeness you sought; it was something far more significant. your gestures were not just idle habits; they were expressions of trust and comfort, woven into the fabric of your interactions.

but now, as he looked down at your hand nestled in his, the truth became unmistakable. since the first time he had encountered you, your warmth and openness had been evident, but with him, there was a different layer of you, how each layer you handed to him with an open heart. you had always clung to him with a special kind of trust, a quiet confidence that set him apart from everyone else.

a sudden wave of humility washed over megumi. the way you rested your hand in his, the way you leaned into his presence, spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings. it was clear now that you saw him as someone steadfast and reliable, someone worthy of your most genuine trust. this simple, yet profound connection was a testament to how much you valued him.

as he felt the gentle pressure of your fingers against his, megumi's heart swelled with a newfound understanding. the touch was more than a mere physical contact; it was an embodiment of the bond that had grown between you. he was the only person you had allowed to be this close, to hold your trust in such a profound way.

he squeezed your hand softly, a tender acknowledgment of the connection that had woven itself so seamlessly into their lives. It was a silent vow—a promise to cherish and honor the trust you had bestowed upon him. in that fleeting moment, as the city’s din faded into insignificance, megumi felt the weight of the trust you had given him and knew it was a precious gift he would hold close to his heart.

doodle