When I Was 13, I Snuck Out Of My House To Make Out With A Guy In My Backyard, While My Parents Were At

when i was 13, i snuck out of my house to make out with a guy in my backyard, while my parents were at work and my siblings were all sleeping.

but then i got rlly nervous and didn't wanna do it anymore, so i gave him a hug and went back inside and had a panic attack 💀

omg my wifey is a baddie, but GIRL I WOULD DO THE SAME PLS but like did you go to the same school? bcs if so, i wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye…lmao

the first time i snuck out of the house was when i was 12 to go secretly sleep over at my friends unannounced lol he had no idea i was coming over :P

send me a confession and i’ll tell you one of mine

zey my baby, imy i hope you drank water and ate today ilyyyyy❤️

thanks for the check up babe🤍 imy :( hru?

---

one of the best works i’ve ever read on this app hunter <3 the whole story has me feeling all things the reader goes through and its written magnificently !! i remember checking your account everyday for an update, i was that hooked.

thank you for never giving this story up and sharing it with us🤍

— blue. | fifteenth act.

+ suna rintarō x fem!reader. HEAVY angst. explicit smut. fluff. mean!suna. soulmate!au. highschool/college. teen pregnancy. death. family drama/infidelity. bullying. explicit language. illness.

+ 9977 word count.

+ masterlist.

epilogue.

“Come on, Y/N! Dance!” Lila shrieked beside you, urging your body to stand up and grind against the man voluptuously dancing his heart out in front.

“I can’t— I just can’t!” you yelped, accompanied by fits of giggle when Lila had managed to pull you up. “Oh my God!”

From the inside, you had combusted already. Albeit being clothed from head to toe, you couldn’t stop the heat permeating your body when the man ground his frame against yours, holding your hips gently while swaying his body.

He was cladded with nothing but a sexy underwear, bow tie, and a mask. His smirk was cruel and boyish. And he had his way to make somebody dance with him.

Shaking your head at Lila, you pointed at her with your finger. “Just this once! Just this once!”

Laughters echoed all around you from colleagues and friends. They were all urging you to move your body and meet the man’s body wave.

Lila tipped her wine glass to the air, trying to teach you some moves by shaking her shoulders. “Go, babe! You can do it!”

Now facing the man, you gulped down shame until it evaporated into a ball of confidence that propelled you to throw it back. Screams of approval resonated with your friend’s lips. Their cheers spurred you on, causing you to finally lose yourself into the tempo of body movements.

Both the dancer and you tangled up in one messy dance, sloppily moving to the rhythm of the arousing music. For minutes, you indulged yourself the luxury of forgetting problems and the stress of work. And the dance indeed helped you loosen up.

You fell back on the velvet couch with an exhale, hands on your cheeks. Never quite believing that you had done just that.

Over the ruckus, Lila whispered close to your ear, “Damn, baby!”

You accepted the wine glass offered to you with a violent shake of your head. “I’m not doing that again!”

Lila shook her head, tipping her glass against yours. “Nah, you’re doing that again in my bridal shower!”

The dancer moved from one woman to another. Until he had reached the highlight of tonight’s event: the bride herself, Sab.

Similar to you, she couldn’t bring herself to stand up. After a few generous push, she ended up swaying her body together with the dancer.

Ah, this felt good.

Bridal showers never failed to boost your energy despite being to no more than two. On the other hand, they reminded you of how time flies. Just two months ago, it was your co-worker who held her bridal shower. Now, she’s happily married and spending her time on their honeymoon overseas.

Today, it’s Sab’s turn to enjoy the last days of her maiden name before tying the knot with her soulmate and soon-to-be-husband. You could see nothing but the sparkle of excitement shining in her eyes.

Almost thirty and neck-deep in work, you couldn’t help but think about your future. Years had gone by with you sinking your whole body to finish college and have a stable job to support your living. Fortunately, you achieved what you wanted to do.

You had a decent condo unit in Faroe. Away from Santa Monica and from everyone. A job that doesn’t suck the life out of you. A car that doesn’t get stuck up in the middle of the road. Friends you could count on. Years in a corporate company allowed you to travel in different countries, too.

Life’s good and you had never been better.

“Babe, wanna retouch?” Lila pronounced beside you, tugging the string of her pouch to her shoulder.

Picking up your purse, you followed her to the nearest bathroom. Where she reminisced and copied the way you danced.

“Stop, Lila!” You laughed, having a hard time swiping the lipstick along your lips by how shaky and weak your hand was.

Lila patted her face with her press powder. “The dancer’s into you, baby.”

You gave a slight shake of your head. “No, he isn’t. It’s just his job.”

“Bet he’s busted a nut dancing with you,” Lila giggled as she uttered. “Because damn, baby! We’ve been friends for almost fifteen years but I have never—” She suspended, giving emphasis by pointing you her Chanel red lipstick. “Never ever seen you dance like that!”

Wiping the edges of your lips, you rolled your eyes playfully. “We’ve been at hundreds of nightclubs and that wasn’t the first time you’ve seen me dance.”

Shrugging, she added, “Yeah. Maybe. But it’s different when there’s a spark!” She flowered her hand as if to personify her statement. “You need a good dicking down after what happened with your ex.”

“Ugh.” You pretended to barf. “Don’t remind me of that douche!”

Two weeks ago, your partner for three months made the biggest mistake of his life by accidentally sending you a text that was meant for his side chick. In it, it was written the exact same time of your departure when you visited him for being ‘sick’. The most ridiculous part was that he had only realized that he sent the message to the wrong person when the girl was already sucking on his cock greedily while you surprised them by entering the front doors.

After that, you turned on your back and left without another word. It was just not worth your time. Especially when he wasn’t as eager as the first time you went out. The spark was next to nothing, too.

“Boys sucked, don’t they?” Lila puffed, placing her makeup inside her purse.

You flashed her a grin. “Yeah. And you’re bound to marry one in a few months.”

She cackled, raising her hand to display her diamond ring. “He sucks less than most, though.”

Bumping shoulders with your best friend, you made your way out of the powder room.

“That’s love for you,” you whispered.

Lila had been engaged with her pilot boyfriend for two years now. They weren’t each other’s soulmates. Both of them were in good terms with their soulmates, though.

Ever since moving to Faroe, Lila had been your anchor. You didn’t just look at her as your best friend, she had become your sister, as well. During those times when you needed a beam, she’d become your foundation.

For years until you graduated, the both of you remained roommates in SFU. She moved earlier than you in Faroe, grabbing the opportunity to be a chef in a five-star hotel. One year later, there was a job offered to you in the same city. Since then, you had been living in Faroe.

Lila lived with her fiancé while you lived alone in your condo unit twenty minutes away from work.

Moving on had never been easy. Your whole body held out shackled with the memories of San Juan. Of everyone. Of everything. Of him.

Lila was right about shedding tears and reminiscing. For days and months you remembered. For days and months you yearned.

It was difficult coming home to an empty space, heart full of wishful thinking that he’d be there sitting on your bed with his infamous grin and canines. That he’d be there to creep up behind you, nose nuzzling the crook of your neck. That he’d be there, mischievously smiling while tapping the bed beside him in allusion to a long night of sweaty bodies and tireless kissing.

It was hard to see nothing but your reflection in the mirror when he had been standing beside you for months, phone raised while the both of you brushes your teeth.

Most of all, it was hard to not have him when all you had known was his caress and his gentle loving. He might be a lot of things, but you knew deep in your soul that he loved you.

That love had been your salvation and undoing. Salvation when you felt as though the world was caving in. Undoing when the weather was cold and you had nothing but yourself on a lonely bed.

Was it the same for him?

Amidst the squeezing heart and endless bloodshot eyes, the separation truly helped you see the world in a different perspective. It helped you understand that you had caged your world in the walls of your shared apartment with him before. You caged yourself with his love and he did the same with yours.

Dating a few guys ever since the break up, you realized that there were different kinds of love. There was a silent love. There was a loud love. There was a love that you could barely feel. There was that overwhelming love. But his love, it was bone-crushing, intense, blazing. In the end, it burned the both of you before you could even figure out how to diminish the flame.

Years had made you realize just how precious and dangerous it was. Maturity had flaunted just how young you were for that kind of gritting affection.

It was a speeding car in the middle of an empty highway. Sped up so fast that the break didn’t bite when it had to.

Despite that, his love was the love that remained in your bones. It stuck on your skin. Tattooed on your heart. Carved out in your brain.

“Hey, babe, you listenin’?” Lila nudged you with her elbows. You blinked at her, earning a frown from her full lips. “I said, how about you sleep in our unit tonight? Gabriel won’t be home until Sat. We can have our own pajama party. Just the both of us.”

Glancing at your wristwatch, you saw the date. “I can’t. I have work tomorrow.”

Lila groaned. “Work, work, work! That’s all you ever do these days—” Her heels suddenly stopped thumping. Eyes blinking repeatedly at your arm.

“What?” You cocked a brow, breathless chuckle echoing from your lips.

“Babe...” she stammered. “Your arm’s glowing.”

Your neck snapped as you whipped your head to your arm at a breakneck speed. Seeing the letters materialize in a bluish color that contrasted your skin color, your breath was caught in your throat and your knees turned weak.

How many years had it been? Ten goddamn years.

As pathetic as it sounded, your eyes burned at the sides and your lips quivered at the sight of his handwriting presenting itself on your skin after a decade.

“July 23. Friday. This year. See you soon, Blue.”

“July? July 23?” Lila repeated.

Your next action was a blur. But your phone was in your hand before you could process what was going on. Your nails clicked as you Googled the dates.

At the first result, you gasped in utter surprise.

July 23. Friday. This year. Santa Monica Olympics.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Lila worriedly searched for your face.

You covered your mouth, nodding.

“Lila,” you exhaled, “He made it.”

—

July couldn’t come any faster. Each passing day had you blanking out for a second just to think about the dates he wrote on your skin.

July 23rd. Olympics. And it’s to happen at Santa Monica, where you and he began. What were the odds?

It didn’t come off as a shock that the Olympics would take place in Santa Monica. It was this country’s capital. Glitzy, pretentious, overwhelming. Besides that fact, it’s where most of places for recreation could be found. It’s only fitting that they would hold the Olympics in that city.

You hadn’t been back for years and it gave you the jitters to think about coming home. Every All Soul’s Day, you would merely reminisce about your parents, especially about your Dad, inside the comfort of your unit.

What had changed, you wondered as you stared at your computer. What would you find there? Would your old house still be there? It’s been a decade. Surely, things would be different this time.

Above all, why were you even brooding about it? You could ignore his reminder and forget about watching, right? That statement you made years ago was an ambiguous one. You’d come only if he was worth watching. And you hadn’t seen him play for years.

Sighing, you realized that you were at fault for giving him that kind of assurance. Of course, to prove if he’s worth watching, you had to come and see him play. It was a trap you laid for yourself.

Or... or you could simply type in his gameplays on social media sites, right? Never once had you done that. Could you do it now?

The last time you attempted to check up on his life was years ago. Much to your dismay, his page didn’t show anything. His Insta was filled with sceneries and he’d only ever updated once every two months. And if ever there was a photo of him, all of it— and you weren’t exaggerating it— was blurred or didn’t show his face. No selfies, no videos, no nothing that would give away how he’d been for the past years since you broke up.

There were two results whenever you’d search his name, though. The other one was a private account with only a handful of followers and zero following.

Minutes had gone by with you letting your mind wander around the possibilities.

Foolish brain cudgelings that didn’t make sense but made you curious to the bone nonetheless. Such as whether he had a girlfriend. Or a love interest during the times that you were parted.

Before you crafted a love story together, he was a proud womanizer. Never taking a woman twice on his bed. Never calling, never texting, never begging.

“And what if he did have one?” you muttered, convincing yourself that it was alright.

For years, you had gone on several dates and had been with other guys as well. It’s only fair for him to not be chained to your past like you did.

You drummed your fingers against your office table, debating whether you’d search for his name.

How did the years change him? Did he still have the same hair length? Same posture? Was he taller? Broader? Did he remain lean? Your head pounded at each attempt of guessing his current mien.

Him being an Olympic player would give you lots of still photos and profile pictures, right? But that stubborn and menacing part of you wanted to save the thrill until July 23rd. If ever you’d decide of coming.

See you soon, Blue.

His handwriting flashed on your mind.

It’s crazy how that echoed confidence and anticipation at the same time. It was as if he had no doubt that you’d show up and he couldn’t wait for July 23rd to arrive.

Leaning back on your swivel chair, you slanted your body and looked up at the ceiling.

His signature shit-eating grin sketched itself in your vision. That smug smile you knew by heart. You relished into that imagination while thinking of his face ten years ago. With that, your lips twitched upwards to the side.

“Let’s see, Rintarō.”

You whispered his name for the first time ever in ten years. An unbelievable long period for someone who sang his name like a favorite song a decade ago.

It felt foreign on your tongue. The syllables hardly stretching your maw. But the letters had been deeply etched in your heart, resurfacing as the days pared the calendar to July 23rd.

Months blurred by. Days were accompanied by work and your constant plumping on the upcoming Olympics.

Lila sat on your bed, twirling the edges of her hair while puckering her lips.

“Spill it,” you urged, sipping on your cup of tea.

“Well,” she exasperated, observing her manicured nails. “The first of five W’s we have to answer is: Why? Why are you coming? Why are you watching?”

Your eyes rolled heavenwards at the hint of mischief in her tone. “I’ve not decided yet.”

Flaying her hands in the air, she blinked innocently at you. “And I’m helping you decide. So, let’s put it this way: You have decided to come and watch. But, why?”

You padded to the other side of the bed, folding your knee and placing the steaming cup on the bedside table.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just wanna watch the Olympics? Because I have never done so ever in my life?”

She squinted at you. “Valid. If only your ex-boyfriend and soulmate isn’t playing.”

Snorting, you tipped your chin up. “And? I couldn’t blame his skills for bringing him to the Olympics, right?”

“And you’ve never been one to watch sports,” she pushed, deliberately ignoring your question. “But you did. Before in his games. Whenever you had the chance. How is it different now?”

You narrowed your brows. “Uhm, I’m interested to see the opening? C’mon. It’s Santa Monica we’re talking about. Do you think the businessmen running that city wouldn’t pour money to that event?”

“You’re coming for the opening?” You opened your mouth, but Lila spoke her next words eagerly. “So, the second W is What. What do you do if you accidentally see him?”

Reaching for you cup, your fingers went gelid midway. The thought had occurred to you a hundred times for the past few weeks already. And not once had you articulated your reaction upon the scenario in your head.

“Say...” Your voice grew weaker. “Say... hi?”

Lila nodded her head. “Yeah. The most magnanimous way to greet your ex after ten years.”

“I know right—”

She held up a finger. “But lemme tell you that I’m not buying any of your bullshit, babe. Something is up. You wouldn’t react the way you did when you saw your arm that night if this is nothing but a simple ‘Olympic watching’.” She quoted the air to emphasize her point.

You compressed your lips together. You could fool the world but you wouldn’t be able to fool Lila. She held you when you were sobbing like a mess over your loneliness. She knew how you struggled to pick your feet up every time you’d trip by remembering his name. She knew how many tears you shed alone and in front of her whenever something would remind you of him.

“Ten years ago, he asked me to meet him if he’d make it to the Olympics,” you began.

Her face hardened. “This is all about that.”

You nodded lightly. “Yeah. He told me that he’d be someone worth watching. I want... I want to see for myself whether that’s true.”

“There’s a fine line between wanting to see his gameplay and wanting to see him,” she stated as a sort of reminder that you were currently in the middle of that line. “Do you wanna see him? After all that has happened? After all the hurt, pain, and loneliness?”

Intensity that you had never felt before tied your stomach in knots. You looked at your best friend. “I do.” Bobbing your head as if to push that confidence materializing in your chest, you added, “It’s crazy, I know. But I want to see him. Know how he’s been. Ask how the decade has treated him. I want to know who is Rintarō Suna after ten years since he’d ask to hold me for five seconds.”

Lila’s face crumpled in understanding. “You’ve never stopped loving him.”

The statement snatched the air out of your lungs. You had been occupied with nothing but work. Filled with thoughts of bettering yourself and your own life that you had not the minute to ponder about what your heart had been hiding all this time. What name had it been screaming. What face had it been keeping locked up inside vessels and underneath blood.

Out of words to say, you tipped your head in a slight nod.

Lila had her arms around you. This time, you shed not one tear. For your heart was full. Heavy with caged-up ardor.

“You still love him. But are you ready to forgive him?”

You reclined your head to her chest. “I guess we’ll see.”

—

“Calm down. You’d only watch him,” you whispered to yourself as you settled in your seat inside the plane. “No need to fret. There is no need to fret.”

The person next to you eyed you weirdly as you mumbled incessantly. You couldn’t blame her. And you couldn’t blame you either.

Here you were. For the first time in what seemed to be forever. Inside an airplane bound to Santa Monica, where your childhood and early adulthood happened.

It’s ten years. Three thousand six hundred fifty days and more. That wasn’t counting the time you spent in San Juan. A lot had happened in ten years. A lot could happen after that.

Convincing yourself that you were a full-grown adult was harder than you thought. Deep inside, you knew she was there. That lovesick nineteen-year-old. Starry-eyed and jumping on her toes, thrilled to be back. Thrilled to see him after all the love and heartaches you shared.

Wasn’t it quite beguiling? The human heart. It was as if no matter how painful somebody’s memories had inscribed in it, it would miraculously heal at the mere thought of them and their memories.

Heart truly betrays, doesn’t it? Was that why human had brains? To not only use as means to think and survive but to also remind this stupidly giddy heart of what it had gone through? To be the breaks for its raging wheels.

However, you were quite different. Inside your system, your heart and brain seemed to be gossiping. Gossiping about him. About what he looked like. About what changed. About his feelings. Whether he was still that boy who bled to survive. Patching up his own self as the new day rises in the skies.

Inside him, was he still keeping the boy who once looked at you as if you could piece back a supernova? As if you could breathe life to a dead star. As if you could hang it again in the bleak stretch of the universe.

The boy who touched you with his scarred fingers and bleeding knuckles, hoping that with a mere kiss, all would be well.

Three-hour flight. You did everything you could to get your mind off the thoughts of him. You read a whole book. Listened to your playlist over and over. Took a nap even though your brain refused to doze off.

Until the proud and mighty buildings of Santa Monica appeared below you.

Believing that the butterflies would stop fluttering inside your stomach was a mistake you should’ve known would backfire. It doubled as the plane landed until you could feel your guts spinning joyously. Your heart thumped in elation, clapping hands with your brain and jumping with your nervous system.

Weak were your knees when you departed, tugging a suitcase behind you.

It’s interesting how the mere slash of wind told you it was indeed Santa Monica. Briny from the distant Santa Monica Beach. Contaminated by industrial buildings. Funny as it might sound, Santa Monica air smelled business.

Bikinis and suntan. Nightclubs and tequila. Money and cars. Glory and power.

You took a cab to your hotel, realizing a little too late that it was owned by the Sakusas.

Kiyoomi Sakusa. One of his friends. The sole heir to half of Santa Monica. Bank account so thick and opulent it could support the next generations of his family.

And the other half? Belongs to the Sunas. The laidback oil tycoons. Abiding wits and business manners.

When you were dating him, it had never occurred to you just how powerful and rich he was. Years being in white-collar jobs had shown you just how unbelievably rich the insufferable boys from your teens were.

Not to mention the Miyas. Daredevil Miyas who has been conquering business overseas, fattening their purse to carve their names in history.

They could conquer the world if they wanted to.

Santa Monica. Never once had it failed to belittle you. But right now, as you stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, drinking from your wine glass while observing the expanse of smaller buildings below your vision, you realized one thing: you could finally ride this town’s wave.

July 22nd was on the calendar. Tomorrow would be the opening. After tomorrow, the first games would begin.

You had three days off before you had to go back to the peace of Faroe.

Deciding to check the ticket you had bought online, you turned your back against the aperture to sit on your bed. And what complete horror it brought you to see what was plastered on your screen.

You bought a ticket for July 24th. Exactly a day before flying back to Faroe.

“I can’t watch the opening?” you gasped, slapping yourself lightly for your giddiness which led to this mistake.

Scrolling through the website, you checked the schedules.

The rumbles of butterflies once again dominated your senses at the printed schedules.

July 24th would be your country versus the other.

First game.

Miya, Sakusa, Komori, Hinata, Kageyama, Wakatoshi and Suna.

Seemed like it was a beautiful mistake, after all.

—

You couldn’t quite believe it, no. It’s overwhelming being in SMA. Santa Monica Arena. Known as one of the biggest arena in the whole continent.

You had only ever seen it whenever your father would take you out to eat in a fast food chain. It was big from a distance. Humongous now that you were being shadowed by its expanse.

Hundreds of stalls were built outside the Arena, selling goods and merchandise. Little jerseys and volleyballs. Olympic logos printed on t-shirts, fans, posters. There were ID laces embroidered with it, too.

The media were huddled in a corner. All of them speaking different languages at once.

You pocketed your hand in your cardigan, attempting to sip on your iced-tea while entering the hubbub of the place. Each step you took inside had your heart falling a centimeter down, eyes traveling around to check if there was a familiar face clad in your country’s jersey.

Kiyoomi, Atsumu, and him were the only boys you knew who made it in the team. Osamu, of course, didn’t pursue volleyball. During your years in SFU, you met him a couple of times. Everytime you did, the both of you would talk about anything other than what happened. Last time you heard of him was when he was flying overseas to study more about their business. That would be over five years ago.

The seats were almost full when you arrived at your destination. Popcorns, soda, and balloons painted a sea of colors in the crowd. Kids were jumping on their seats, adults betting who had the upper hand, friends fanning themselves at the thrill.

It was exactly what it was on television. Only this time, it got your heart pumping.

Finally, after minutes of excusing and gently shouldering past the other spectators, you found your place seven rows away from the front seat. This seat had cost you quite a lot but the view was perfect. Not too near. Definitely not too far.

You were able to see their faces from here. At the realization, you slumped on your seat while trying to soothe your heart. Stupid heart that had never stopped pumping eagerly ever since you landed here in Santa Monica.

Trying to anchor your attention somewhere else, you decided to check for e-mails. Enthralled by how combusted your inbox was, you failed to see the teams enter the court at last.

Only when the national anthem of the country was playing did you bolt up from your seat. At the sight, your knees thawed instantly.

You hadn’t yet seem him, no. However, they were lined up on their side of the court. Them. Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

And you were frozen from your scalp to your toes, saved for your eyes who scanned the players with your irises dilating.

You could swore with all that you were, your heart yelled as loud as it could inside your chest and through your ribcage when you found him, at long last.

Wrapped in a striking maroon and black jersey, knee socks, and confidence, Rintarō Suna stood second to the last from the left. Before you could drink his sight in, most spectators began to sit down for the other country’s anthem.

They were out of your sight and you were begging for more.

“What was that?” you whispered as you turned on your seat. You should get a better look at your current location. But why was his face blurry? Oh, yes. It was blurry because your eyes were stinging with unshed tears.

Everyone was pumped and energized, as if they had gulped down multiple energy drinks before coming to the Arena. It was loud. By the cheers alone, the hairs all over your body rose with excitement.

Until the game started.

It was Kiyoomi’s turn to serve. Your eyes were moving, finding his jersey.

Suna.

Right after the net. Standing with all his glory.

The ball moved at a speed that you couldn’t follow. The next you knew, he was jumping and blocking and his teammates were all over him. Ruffling his hair, patting his back.

Atsumu took his face with his hands humorously as if to kiss him. He grimaced and pushed him away. And they were back at their positions.

The tension thickened as the ball continued to be passed on. Until they reached the deadlock for the final set.

They were huffing, obviously tired. And you were sitting with your heart racing inside your chest. Lacing your hands together, you pressed them on your lips.

It was an unexpected occurence. Sure, you had seen it happen in television. Where celebrities’ faces would be flashed on the projector screen above the court. But never in a million years had you anticipated that it would happen to you.

Never in a million years had you foresaw your face displaying on that screen. Never in a million years had your eye sockets went circling like pies. Never in a million years had you seen your head snapping to where the players were.

To see Rintarō Suna, motionless while looking up.

You had no idea if you wanted to crawl or stand up. Crawl to hide. Stand up and yell that you were there, watching him. Cheering him on with your whole heart.

He snapped his head in different directions, trying to search for your face in the crowd. He failed when the whistle blared.

“Calm down,” you whispered to yourself. “Calm down.”

Your system didn’t. It didn’t listen at all. It was like you couldn’t control your senses anymore. The thudding of your heart was loud in your ears, refusing to erase the image of him looking up and seeing your face.

When the first game had met its conclusion with them as winners, you thundered upright, struggling to make it to the exit before the chaos dies down.

Why? Why were you even trying to escape? You came here to finally meet him, right? You yearned for him and now that he was here, why would you run away?

Bodies bumped into you as you walked, mind clouded and heart overwhelmed.

That’s right. It’s the overwhelming feeling. You couldn’t bring yourself to be brave enough for this. You couldn’t—

“Blue.”

Everything in you halted in an abrupt stop, boots skidding against the floor as that name echoed everywhere. Heads turned to where the announcers were. However, you remained nailed to where you stood, clutching your purse tightly while counting the seconds.

And his voice echoed again.

Manly. Full. Mischievous.

“Blue, if you can hear me, please don’t move. I will find you.”

Rintarō Suna. You are unbelievable.

Then you were bulldozing through bodies. This time, towards him.

“Excuse me, excuse me! Sorry!” you murmured in your every step, bowing your head in apology as another person grumbled their dissent and vexation towards you.

The court was flocked with the media and fans trying to get autograph. You couldn’t see him through the dense population circulating the players. It was like championship already.

Everyone was eager to take pictures. Greet their favorite player. Have their signatures on the jersey they bought.

“Where is he?” you hissed, turning your head to left and right. “Where is he—”

He was there. Near the other side of the court. Ruffling a boy’s hair. He wasn’t the only one standing, though.

She was there, too. Her hair might’ve been shorter now but you wouldn’t miss her posture.

Nadine stood beside him. She had the biggest smile on her face. And she was heavily pregnant.

Your knuckles tightened around the string of your purse. A sardonic chuckle rumbling deep from your throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Were you fooled? He hated you all this time, didn’t he? He hated you and this was punishment all along. And you were this foolish girl who never learned.

You wiped the tears away before they could even roll down your face. Looking at their perfect family for the last time, you readied to pivot when a certain someone appeared in your line of sight.

He was unknown to you. This would be the first time you had seen him. He went straight to where Nadine was, placing his hand on her stomach before kissing her temple. Then they were kissing.

“Wait... a damn minute,” you breathlessly gasped, slapping a hand to your forehead.

Did you hop into conclusions?

Different emotions swamped you.

It was Nadine who saw you first. From the distance that separated you, her eyes enlarged and she was clawing at his shoulder, tugging his body to face you.

Amidst the crowd of animated spectators, you looked at him. He was too far away that you couldn’t even define his appearance. But it was enough. You wouldn’t have wished for something more.

You wouldn’t have wished for him to turn his head. You wouldn’t have wished for him to see you. You wouldn’t have wished for him to run to you. Because that would be too much.

However, he was already moving. Jogging his way to you. Raising his finger politely to the reporters that tried to barricade him from getting to you.

He ran. The ten-year longing shortened as the time slowed down and all you could see was him.

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing and nobody mattered as you stood face to face with the man that captivated you body and soul.

“You made it,” he breathed as if he’d been underwater for too long, emerging now that he’d seen you.

Your eyes never left his emerald irises as you nod. “Because you made it here, as well.”

Rintarō Suna smiled. Gone was the boyish smirk and grin. All you could see was a smile so refreshing it tugged at your heartstrings.

He was taller now. Hair shorter. Shoulders broader and chest puffier. The jersey clung to his biceps perfectly. He took care of himself, surely.

And his eyes couldn’t stop twinkling as they held yours. Tried as he might, he couldn’t stop the widest grin his lips had ever formed. Struggled as you might, you couldn’t stop the smile that was spreading your lips either. Ear to ear.

For minutes you merely looked at each other. Drinking the changes to your faces. And you were chuckling together because it was so awkward and amazing at the same time.

He grabbed his nape like a sheepish teenager. “Can...” he stammered. You chortled because his cheeks were flushed pink and his ears were red. “Can I hold you?”

The last time he did was ten years ago. The last time he did broke the both of you into tiny little pieces. The last time he did, you parted ways with him. The last time he did, it had only lasted for five seconds.

You tipped your head in consent. “Yes.”

“Five seconds?” he murmured, biting his lower lip afterwards.

“One minute,” you replied.

His gentle arms were around you, tucking your head to his chest. Tears seared the back of your eyes as you heard him sigh in relief. As if he had been holding his breath for years and was only allowed now to release the tension in his body. You held him tight, letting his citrusy scent whiff at your nose. Breathing him in and keeping him close.

Rintarō pulled away to take your face with his hands. They were cold and slightly trembling.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbled, looking at your lips and up at your eyes.

You cocked a playful brow. “Tomorrow, what?”

“Amusement Park. A date?”

Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you twisted your lips in consideration. “I’ll think about it.”

Rintarō tipped his head lower. When he lifted his face, he was biting on his lower lip again.

So damn attractive. So damn handsome.

“You’d be the death of me,” he murmured, minty breath fanning your lips.

You were back inside their bathroom. A teenage rush of falling in love for the first time running in your veins, allowing heat to suffuse your cheeks.

Teasing him, you leaned closer until there was nothing but a hairsbreadth that separated you from him. “Good.”

That night, you called for another day off.

—

I was at peace with myself.

For years, I could finally claim that. Claim that and forget the fifteen-year-old Rintarō Suna raising a finger at me, chastising my way to betterment.

Betterment. It was not easy. I struggled a few fucking times and found myself circling back to square one.

Intoxicated. Fingers shaking to reach for a new joint. Facing toilet bowls first thing in the morning. Empty house, empty mind.

For a year or two ever since knowing that the love of my life had flown miles away from me, I almost did lose myself. Perhaps I did. In those nights where I had nothing but a beer bottle in one hand and a blunt in another, eyeing my keys and debating whether I’d dash to San Francisco and make it right. Make everything between us alright.

However, fucked up as it might sound and too fucking uncharacteristic, shame would flood me and knock me out down the floor whenever I’d attempt to drive hours to reach her.

What face would I show her? Did I have one to begin with? I’ve got nothing but my flaws and my claws that would certainly hurt her again. Could I see her bleed again? No. I couldn’t. And so even if it killed me to be separated from her, I couldn’t run and chase her.

I had to be better first.

Mom had settled all of it for me, believing that a psychologist was what would help my sorry ass improve.

My shrink was a man. Because I was an egotistical shit who couldn’t afford letting anyone see the weakest part of him, it was hard at first. I couldn’t talk without being sardonic as fuck. I couldn’t answer questions without dodging ten more.

Salute to every shrink out there. You had my respect.

For years, this man had been with me. To be very fucking honest, he was a better father than Riko. And he was no one but a shrink to my life.

He convinced me that problems wouldn’t be solved by a shit ton of joint and alcohol. It would make you forget but it wouldn’t help you become better.

I saw that when EJP almost kicked me out of the club for being such a lazy and nasty prick. Being sat down with my superiors was a wake-up call I didn’t know I needed. It didn’t do much because I’d come home and gulp a few bottles despite their sermon. But I found a rhythm. A new kind of toxic life that allowed me to be sober enough to play after a night of mindless drinking.

It worked out at first. But when I had to be hospitalized for my bullshit, with Mom crying and fucking Riko visiting like we were friends, it moved my ass a little.

After that, Mom had become my mother again. And Riko... Riko became a father.

If I’d look back to those memories, I wouldn’t have thought that I’d become an Olympic player. But I made my way, didn’t I? I worked my ass off. I failed a few times but I never once did think of giving up. Because I had to play at the Olympics. For my pride as a player and to meet her again. Otherwise I’d have no face to show.

I kicked the little pebble with the tip of my shoe, hands inside my grey coat.

The chaos of the Amusement Park was a nearby sound as I stood near the entrance.

Amusement Park. Me? I huffed out a disbelieving chuckle.

Twenty-fucking-nine and here I was waiting for my date like a fifteen-year-old kid. Not gonna lie, it felt thrilling. Especially when my date was none other than the one who convinced me to go here almost eleven years ago. Who convinced me to wear those horn headbands because it wouldn’t be a date without wearing one.

“I’m sorry! The traffic was a pain!”

I turned my head to her direction. And my jaw almost drop the fucking ground. I felt heat surround my face. She’s wearing a dress. It looked so fucking good I almost felt ashamed to stand beside her.

It didn’t matter that she was fifteen minutes late. I would’ve waited forever if that meant I could see her for just one more second.

The first time I saw her at the Arena, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. I’d given her the dates but I saw not a shadow of her in July 23rd. I’d almost turned the whole Arena upside down just to find her but to no avail. When I saw her through the screen above my head, it took all in me to not leave the game and rummage through the crowd to find her.

Happiness was an understatement. I felt fucking good. For the first time in ten years, I felt like me.

“Here.” I offered her the headband she wore years ago. The one with the halo. “I’ve got mine, too.”

She took it with a smile, donning it over her head. “This is so silly,” she murmured, “I love it.”

“It suits you,” I whispered. “You look very pretty.”

Her smile got brighter. That smile I knew by heart. It warmed me from the inside and out.

“You forgot to say that on our first date,” she quipped, nudging me by the elbows. “But thank you.”

I hated that I didn’t compliment her back then. I

loved that she remembered and was now elated that I did. It’s complicated, yes, but I felt butterflies at that. Fuck.

I bobbed my head before nudging it towards the entrance. “Where do you wanna go first?”

“The first time we visited, we went to the Horror House first,” she replied, as if relieving some good memories of our time here. “I didn’t know you were that jumpy.”

Shaking my head, I shot back, “And I didn’t know that you could scream like that— no, I did know, actually.”

At the hint, she slapped my arm lightly. I cackled.

“Some things never change, huh?” Her tone was mischievous, poking me in the right place.

I felt my face softened. “Yeah.”

In the end, we decided to enter the Horror House first. She claimed that she wouldn’t be able to stand once we ride the rollercoaster.

Before we could enter, several individuals noticed me and asked for a picture. I looked in her direction, asking for permission. She nodded with a smile.

“You’re popular now, huh?” She lifted a playful brow. “Especially with the ladies.”

That actually made me feel shy. I didn’t fucking know why. Sure, whenever I’d jog around, there were a few that’d recognize me but I didn’t think that I was popular. My surname was but me? Nope.

“Common reoccurrence,” I jabbed.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be surprised if you’ve had several girlfriends. Do you have one now?”

Tipping my head back, I laughed. She was joking, I knew. But her face gave away that kind of curiosity that tickled my stomach.

“I don’t. You can breathe now,” I replied with a grin. She snorted. “How ‘bout you? Have you met some other guys?”

“Yup,” she responded while side-eyeing me. “Nice guys.”

I cocked a brow, stomach dropping. “Nice guys, huh?”

“Yeah. But not as nice as a certain someone I know,” she added.

With that, something in me twitched. Down. And that made me feel like a fucking teenager again.

Suddenly, the air was thick with sexual tension that tickled my balls. Fuck. Still was down so fucking bad after ten whole years.

If I had an obvious hard-on while walking, I didn’t fucking care. Not one bit. What was important was the moment and the way she clung to me inside the Horror House. It felt good, being with her again.

“Photo Booth,” she gasped when we reached that part. “The last time we entered—”

“I was an aggressive fucker who kissed you without permission,” I finished, embarrassed at the memory.

She snapped her head up at me. “But I liked it. I treasured the pictures.”

“I... I did, too,” I stammered, blinking at her.

I clung onto those pictures like it was my lifeline. It killed me while looking at it. At the same time, it breathed life in me. If we hadn’t gone into the photo booth before, I wouldn’t know what would happen to me on those lonely nights.

We entered the booth, my hands clammy with unexplainable nervousness. Did I just fucking lost my confidence? No. I was elated I could kiss her right now. However, I didn’t want to freak her out. It’s been years. I wasn’t that boy any longer. I didn’t have to be that boy anymore.

There was no kissing. When the camera flashed, we were looking at each other’s eyes. The next, we were laughing, tipping our heads back. Far from the kiss we shared before but more than enough for my squeezing heart.

“I’m keeping this one,” she declared. “For luck.”

I quirked a brow. “Luck, huh?”

In the end, we found ourselves inside one of the Ferris wheel’s capsules. My heart was thudding inside my chest, watching her watch the view that surrounded us.

The sky was a beautiful shade of gold and orange. Distant beach shining as if it had golden waters. High-rise buildings that faced the ferris wheel, making us feel as if we could touch them.

She sat, rolling her lip between her teeth. “How have you been for the last ten years?”

I reclined my elbows on my knees. I saw him. Felt him. That Rintarō Suna from a decade ago. Remembered everything. From those cold nights that I sat down on the edge of my bed with only my pack of cigarettes and empty bottles as company. Holding a mere picture, playing our videos on a phone that held so many memories of us.

“I...” Fuck, I didn’t know where to start. Minutes had gone of me being taciturn. “I’m father to a thirteen-year-old kid now. And I’m Riko Suna’s son.”

Her eyes zoomed in on me. I merely nodded. Between us, unspoken stories weaved themselves.

“Therapy has made me realize that I could only be a good father if I’d be a good son.”

After fixing myself, that’s where I poured all my energy into it. Talking to my father, flattening out our differences. I told him about Arisa’s abuse. About Rena and Seika’s silence. He cried hard in front of me, admitting that he was at fault for everything. He was not.

He might not be the best father but I wasn’t a good kid. We once sneaked and played porn when he was having a meeting at some organization. Busted his wheels. Scraped the pristine coat of his car. I fucked him up real good because I thought he was to be blamed for everything that happened to me and my mother.

He made mistakes but I fueled his mistakes.

“That’s... that’s actually wonderful,” she whispered. “I’m... so glad to hear that.”

“I appreciate that.”

She wiped her hands on her hips, searching for my face. “How is Aethan?”

My eyes suddenly sparked at her curiosity. Never once had I expected to hear the question.

“He’s at middle school now. Obsessed with soccer.” I chuckled at the thought. Remembering how determined that little boy was to play. “Since Nadine just got married to her long-term boyfriend and is now on her delicate month, Aethan’s been living with Mom. Mom tolerates everything he does. Dad, too. Aside from Rena’s kids, I think he’d do anything for Aethan. There’s this one time when I had to convince him not to buy Aethan a goddamn Ferrari yet.”

She gasped. “Ferrari?”

I laughed at the memory. Dad was hell-bent on buying one as if it wouldn’t take lots of paperwork. “Yep. For his twelfth birthday.”

“Your dad’s wild.” She giggled. “Tell me more.”

Smiling, I willingly divulged one of the heaviest shit I had to face as I progressed to betterment. “I’ve forgiven Arisa.” Her eyes zeroed in on my face. I nodded as if to confirm that what she heard was right. “She divorced Dad a few years ago and is now living overseas with Seika, who is currently finishing Law. Rena remained here with her two daughters and husband. She’s next in line to be the CEO.”

Getting together with Rena probably was the hardest thing. Behind all of her hatred toward me, she simply couldn’t forgive herself for letting her mother do what she did. Young and naïve, she had no choice but to ride on her mother’s wrath to fall in her favors.

And as to being CEO, I’ve realized that I only showed interest to make all of their lives a living hell. It was not what I wanted. Rena, on the other hand, busted her ass studying business to help Dad. She deserved it more than anyone else.

“So much has happened,” she commented quietly. “I’m so proud of you.”

My heart leaped. Maybe that was all I wanted to hear after all these years.

“How about you? How did the decade treat you?”

Her eyes shone as she smiled. I saw it and I felt as though I was slapped by something hard on the face. That after all this time... after all this time... I was still falling hard for her.

“I’ve a job in Faroe. Life has been good.” She proceeded to tell me about what happened since our separation. Her studies. About Lila. Jobs and travels. Her eyes were alight as she reminisced her stories, I thought I was looking at a star.

She tipped her head when she finished, licking her lips thereafter. “I’ve forgiven myself, too.”

My throat bobbed. Years of preparing myself for this moment and here I was, wanting to run with my tail between my legs.

“Have you forgiven me?” I finally managed to ask. I had to hear her answer.

Instead of giving me what I wanted, she turned her attention to the view outside.

“Here,” she breathed, eyes fixated on the stretch of buildings below us, “You told me you wanted to experience love with me. Did you ever regret it?”

Her eyes found mine. There was melancholy in hers. In those orbs I’ve loved so much, our history stared back at me. I saw the love we cherished and lost. I saw the mistakes and the pain.

“Not even once.”

Despite the hurt and the loneliness, I wouldn’t have it otherwise. Our love was the love that made me feel human. And even if she told me that she regretted me, I would always choose that love. I’d always choose her.

“And I’d understand if you did,” I added, my voice shaking. “I fucked up the minute I lied to you about my relationship with Nadine. It was not my intention, believe me. We were young and foolish. I wouldn’t have thought back then that she’d have Aethan. It was not an excuse but I hope you know that it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

She blinked at me. Her eyes turning glassy.

I had failed to see just how much the revelation ruined her. She’d been strong and maybe that strength had tricked me into thinking that it was alright all along. It was not.

“I fucked up the moment I left you alone to go home. I should’ve gone home with you. Made sure you were alright after the accident. But I didn’t.” My hands were shaking and my chest was shrinking. “I fucked up the second I trusted my ego more than I do with your love. I fucked up when I threw you out without hearing your story. I fucked up for not believing the love you had for me. I know it wouldn’t do shit, but I’m sorry for the pain. For everything that I did wrongly. For not holding up to my promises. For hurting you. For causing you so much agony. For making you cry. I’m sorry. If I could turn back time, I will do it right.”

Ten years of baggage pressed in on my shoulders. By each passing second, I refused to breathe. Relief was something I’d only deserved if she would forgive me. And the decision wasn’t for me to make.

She wiped her cheeks and I wished I was the one doing that. Again, I had to remind myself that I couldn’t touch her if she didn’t want me to. I was not that boy any longer.

“Is he still there?”

The question caught me off guard. I looked hard on her face. “Who is?”

“The boy who gave me his all.”

It was a punch in the gut. Unbelievable as it might sound, it was something of a velvet punch.

My mind wondered. Soul reaching for that boy who obsessively loved her with all that he was. Behind that suffocating love, I knew I’d love her kindly.

I tried to bury that boy because all he had known was pain and in pain he thrived.

“Was there ever any good thing about that boy?” I replied.

She laughed but there were tears rolling down her face. “There was. He’d hurt me, yes, but that boy loved me as best he could. And that girl... that girl who loved him from ten years ago is still here. Stupidly yearning.”

My blood pumped. Heart running laps. I had to be silent for a few seconds to regain my composure because, goddamn, was I not pushed back at least a mile away from that alone.

“What do you mean?”

She opened her mouth but we had reached the bottom of the ferris wheel already. We had to go out.

I was impatient that I could feel it in my bones. But I waited ten whole fucking years, what’s a mere sixty seconds or more, right?

“When we went here the first time, we failed to see the fireworks,” she said while sniffing. “The rain was a killjoy.”

“I actually appreciated that rain,” I murmured, tone blanketed with deviltry.

She gasped, nudging me by the elbows.

Laughing, I looked up at the sky. It was nighttime already. Glancing at my watch, I had deduced that the fireworks would start soon.

“Follow me?” I suggested, peeking at her face.

She lifted both brows at me. “Where to?”

I grinned at her before turning on my heel.

Most of the tourist were walking towards the platform where they could watch the fireworks better. Soda in hand, with their lovers looking at them as if they were the world itself, they giggled and laughed.

“We can watch the fireworks—”

My body stilled as I felt it. Her finger hooking around my pinky. I looked back at her, bewildered. However, she was looking at everyone but me, twisting her lips submissively.

“Well...” She cleared her throat. “It’s not a date without this so...”

I sighed in relief, lacing our fingers together. Her lips tugged up in a brand new smile, immitating mine. And we were ascending the set of stairs towards that made-up hill barred with railings.

We held each other’s hand. Both clammy. Both shaking. I couldn’t stop my grin.

Who would’ve thought that just by holding her hand, I’d feel this fucking elated? This was beneath everything I had ever used to do when I was eighteen. Holding hands was an epidemic in my vocabulary. I mostly had gone third base after knowing the chick’s name.

Here I was, smiling like a fucking idiot for that same epidemic.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered in awe at the first flash of the colorful and vivid fireworks.

“It is,” I murmured.

She excitedly whipped her head towards me, face softening suddenly. “But you’re looking at me.”

“Because there’s not a view that is as beautiful as you,” I replied.

“Stop.” She giggled and I felt my intestines wrapped up in a wad. When she calmed down, the fireworks was booming above us. But I would never miss the words that slipped past her lips. “Kiss me.”

I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what. I lost myself in those words. Like they were an anchor in the bottom of the ocean.

We were facing each other. My hands cupping her jaw and I couldn’t— for the life of me— stop my heart as it went on its way to run around my chest. I felt it pulsating in my throat. Thumping in my ears.

An inch away from her lips, I gasped shakily. “I missed you. Fuck. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more than I’m allowed to,” she whispered back, leaning into my touch.

And we were kissing. The chaos within me halted at once. I didn’t hear shit. The world faded and it was only her lips on mine that mattered. It was the only thing that made sense.

I pulled back, careful as not to pounce on her.

She opened her eyes slowly and shook her head. “Rintarō Suna, that’s not how you kiss.”

I chuckled against her lips.

She’d be the death of me.

“How do I kiss?” I murmured.

She laughed breathlessly and we were kissing again. This time, she was tugging me by my shirt. She flowered her mouth for me and I kissed her with everything I’ve got. Our teeth clashed, our tongues battled. Faces almost colliding by how deprived we were of each other.

We pulled back for air just to dive in again. Just to be connected again. And I couldn’t stop the tears any longer. They poured and I was sobbing into the kiss. I didn’t give a damn.

I was happy. I was complete. That puzzle piece that had been missing now going back and sticking to its rightful place inside me.

She was wiping at my cheeks, her own eyes blurry with tears. “Rintarō,” she whispered my name and her voice was the most melodic, “I forgive you. I forgive us.”

My knees turned weak. My bones thawed. And my sobs grew louder.

She caressed my face, kissing my lips again.

“Y/N,” I sobbed her name, shoulders rumbling. “Can we do this again? Can we do us again?”

“Together?” She bit her lip to stop its quivering.

“Together. Better.”

“I’d love that,” she answered while crying.

Our lips found each other again.

Patient. Unhurried. Slow.

Ten years. Yes, we have matured. We have changed. But deep inside, we were still us.

Still us but better.

Bound by soul. Forever.

end.

thank you for giving blue a shot.

+ when i was first drafting this story, i was hesitant. despite the love s&b had received, i still couldn’t sit still and be comfortable that blue would receive the same amount of love. the topics were as heavy as skins&bones, and that scared me. i thought no one would read it because of the tags and warnings. when i look back, i get so emotional because i have almost given this story up a few times. i just wanna delete any traces of it from tumblr because i don’t know— i thought it was not just worth it. and here we are, reaching its end. i wanna thank all of you guys for being w me in this journey. you know who you are. thank you for being angry, emotional, happy, horny (agaksj) while reading this little story that held such a heavy yet special place in my heart. if ever you’ve read my note in act 14, you’d understand that some of the scenes i have crafted from real life experiences. i’m proud that i have turned those dark experiences into something i could call my own— blue.

i’m so sorry if y/n was far from your dream y/n. i’m so sorry if i failed to portray you through her characterization. but thank you. still. for clicking that first act. and even if you didn’t get to finish this story, i’m still thankful.

i guess, in my journey of writing this series, what i want to say is that,: family would fail you. friends would fail you. love would fail you. your own self would fail you. what’s important is that at the end of the day, even though you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive and forget them, i hope that you find it in your heart to forgive yourself. it’s all that matters. fuck forgive and forget. you do it on your own phase. own time. feel the hurt because it will teach you lots on how to heal. be weak because it would tell you how to be stronger.

again, thank you guys for loving rintarō & blue. i hope you wouldn’t have to face a nadine, riko, arisa, or rena in your life. i hope there’s somebody out there who’d treat you the way miss aori treated blue. i hope you have your own lila with you.

thank you for unfolding their story with me. thank you for reaching the end. here’s to more stories & i hope we’ll be here together for a long time.

lots of love,

hunter.

💛

TAGLIST. @suhkusa @crashica @autumnandhotchocolate @bongofrito @omisemi @helloalex80 @atsuvi @shrimpypenis @putmeinyourdeathnote @underratedmage @devilgirlcrybabiey @sunasbnny @6mattsun9 @chou-maitresse @wonderyourinfluencee @deeznutss @gourmetrat @saturnsjustabouthadit @fluffyforeverything @stfucanunot @flawless-tsumu @sparklingblacktea @toumie @mikeru @borpcorp @4k0taro @micasaessakusa @xxsuu @anngelllla @emerald-souldesert @hsjvwq @lostdreamingwallflower @iwaizumis-babygirl @shiggysvixen @akirawhore @sarahvvictoria @lilith412426 @motoyafightclub @moonlit-mizukage @arkawawa @knockoffbimboland @kiyoobi @bakugouswh0r3 @aethermelancholy @kageyamakock @rintaromilktea @sakusasgirl @kn0xiousnight @thesolarflame @cosmotoic @cuddlesslut @rintarovibes @silversslut

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taking out my credit card rn

After thinking about this for a month, I have finally decided to open commissions!

I have been trying to go back to college and shift from Architecture to Fine Arts for quite some time now. Art materials are a pain and money has been tight lately because of what’s been happening in the world. Also, I accidentally stepped on my laptop a few months back and my phone has been hanging on a thin thread for quite some time now. I have nothing to use for online classes. This is why the rates are quite expensive. Your girl’s going through it.

[ P R I C I N G ]

$3 — 500 WORDS

$5 — 501-1000 WORDS

$10 — 1001-2000 WORDS

$20 — 2001-3000 WORDS

$30 — 3001-4000 WORDS

THREE SLOTS are open in a first come, first serve basis. You will receive the final product via e-mail once you have paid in full. I will post the final product on Tumblr only if there’s permission from you. Please allow me at least one to three weeks time to complete your piece.

For cancellation, please inform me right away otherwise I would have to charge for the RATE you have chosen depending on the current word count of the story.

I am accepting payments thru KO-FI !

Prices are non-negotiable.

[ R U L E S ]

NSFW/DC allowed for all rates. However, I am only willing to write full-fluff pieces for the $3 & $5 package.

Please check my BLOG RULES to see kinks I am willing to write about. If something you want isn’t listed there, shoot me a DM and we’ll see if we can work on it.

Because this is my first time opening commissions, I am only willing to write x reader & x you* pieces. For POV, I am open to write CHARACTER’S FIRST PERSON’S POV, SECOND PERSON’S POV, or MIXED POV (character + second person’s pov).

*You can be as descriptive as you want about the appearance.

FANDOMS I AM WILLING TO WRITE FOR: Tokyo Revengers, Haikyuu, Boku no Hero Academia, Jujutsu Kaisen, Hunter x Hunter, Chainsaw Man.

You can shoot me a DM here or through Discord for more inquiries [hunter!#1384] !

THANK YOU SO MUCH.

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One time I got my period on the bus and I realised I got my period but ofc I couldn’t do anything about it since I’m literally bleeding so I bled on the bus and then when I got off the bus I heard all the boys I was with say “ what’s that smell “ and then they realised I bled on the bloody bus and then after one of them sent me a message saying “ I don’t know if you know but you had a little accident on the bus with your period “ and then the next day at school I thought they were going to tell everybody but they act liked it never happened

OH MY GOD girl thank the gods your friends didn’t tell the others, like i would overthink that sm it wouldn’t be healthy…

one thing im really happy of is that my first period wasn’t an embarrassing moment since it was at my friend’s birthday on black friday so my mom gave me her credit card to shop all i want :P

send me a confession and i’ll tell you one of mine

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hi :))))) can I be added to the night changes tag list? tyty

ofc!!

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