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timextoxhajima · 3 years

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Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

578 notes · View notes

apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙔 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

∘ request(s):

Ooh maybe edgy!karl teaching skateboarding :o. I’m also in uni and I remember my first frat party was quite interesting 😂 -🦋

ahhhh part four of your edgy karl was soooo good!!! could i get jealous karl? maybe someone else is hitting on the reader at a party

please please please more edgy!karl if u can. like maybe where him and reader get into a fight because he gets like jealous and he just shows the reader who they belong to fjsjjsj thankyouuu !! 🤍🪐 x

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, light bdsm, jealous, somewhat toxic behavior, crude language, frat boys (again), mentions of masterbation, biting, domination, spanking

∘ word count: ~3200

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: not me having to watch daddy tony hawk tutorials for this bc I'm uncultured and only skateboarded for like three months when I was 14 :)))

thank you for all the requests (especially 🦋 ily). if any of you have ideas for what I should call this series, lemme know! as always, have a great week and happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The parking lot behind the campus union was barren. The morning dew in the air left a sweet smell to combine with Karl’s cologne as he walked beside you, his arm bumping yours as he listened to you nervously ramble on about one of your classes. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of falling on your ass in front of Karl terrified you more than anything. This man had degraded you and made you completely submit to him in the past, yet you were worried that not being able to master his ~craft~ would ruin his image of you.

He dropped his skateboard, his feet settling on it lazily as he rolled beside you. You watched quietly as he stopped, kicking his foot down on the front of his board so it popped into his hand. “You won’t fall. I’ve got you,” he joshed, tugging on your hand so you were in front of him.

He set the board down, his hands going to your hips as you stepped on it. His fingers dipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, your skin lighting up at his touch as if his hands belonged on you. “You look like an anemic Victorian boy. I don’t trust you as a safety net,” you grumbled, your hands covering his. You knew, roughly, how to skate from a middle school phase you had. Karl only promised to teach you a few tricks, but to say you were rusty would be an understatement.

He chuckled darkly, nudging you closer to the middle of the board and peering over your shoulder to look at your stance. “I’ve fucked you without your feet touching the floor. I think I can catch you before you hit the ground, baby,” he chided, making you scoff.

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you mumbled. He instructed you on how to kick the board up to where you needed it. His words were simple and almost plain like he knew you could figure it out. You attempted to push the board up, but crashed into Karl’s arms, your back thumping against his chest.

He giggled slightly as he straightened you up, setting you back on the board as his foot kept it from rolling out from under you. His hands hovered over your hips again as he moved his foot, leaving you to balance on your own. “If you fall correctly, people will just think you were giving really good head,” he jested. You shoved his arms away at his words as he laughed at his own joke.

You attempted a few more times and nearly had it down before Karl’s hands were on your hips again, giving you further instructions. You fought not to smile as his breath ghosted against your neck. You knew he cared about teaching you something that---on paper---was seemingly so easy, but his vulgar teasing was beginning to swarm your head. With his next steps set as your goal as well as the feeling of his hold on you, you kicked the board up and attempted to jump with it. While your brain was up to speed, your feet weren’t, sending the board out from beneath you and you to fall into its place.

Karl snorted as choked back a laugh at you scrapping your hands on the concrete. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Try again,” he chided, voice uneven and laced with whatever dark humor he was getting from watching you do this.

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him tug you up in front of him. As you wobbled on the board once again, you let his hands dig into your sides. Obviously, it seemed that he actually was worried about dropping you again, despite the fact that he was holding back some kind of sick laugh. “You would be great at teaching a kid how to ride a bike,” you quipped, the fact that he called you a pussy seeping into your mind.

You gasped slightly as you slipped again, this time Karl’s arms wrapping around you tightly, pressing your body against his. “Awe, you want me to put a baby in you, pet?” He jeered with his lips near your ear. You shrugged out of his grip, breaking up your indecent thoughts at his comment.

You could feel the heat rising to your ears as you balanced on his skateboard again. “Stop, you perv,” you deflected, hoping he couldn’t tell how hard you were having to bite back a smirk.

After your skateboarding escapades, you sat typing away at your computer, Karl occasionally looking over his phone to peer at you. His legs were thrown lazily on either side of you as he stretched out on his pillows.

An alarm went off on Karl’s phone, startling you in the process. He fought against smirking at your surprise as he sat up, crawling over to you. “Okay, I gave you two hours,” he stated, leaning forward to press his lips against yours and gently close your computer. The taste of him on your tongue was like a drug for you, leaving you constantly wanting more.

You smirked into his kiss as your brain finally caught up with you. “I hope that document saved, asshole,” you groaned, pushing him back into his pillows as he chuckled at you. His fingers dragged up the length of your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands as you straddled him. “Fucking weirdo, timing me. Who are you, my dad?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his neck and digging your fingers into his hair.

He moaned lowly, grinding against you. “Oh fuck yeah. Call me daddy,” he cantered.

“No,” you answered simply. You sat up, reaching over to his top drawer in search of protection, but running your fingers over a lacy garment instead. Your brows knitted together as your gaze shot to the drawer, your underpants dangling from your finger. Karl tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at you nonchalantly as your mind flashed with memories of your time in the bathroom.

Before you had the opportunity to ask him what he was still doing with them, his door popped open to reveal one of Karl’s roommates, his name beginning with a D but slipping your mind. “What are you guys doing in here?” He asked with a rather dopey smile, gesturing to Karl still between your legs. “Everyone’s downstairs, come on.” You and Karl shared a look as he left.

You leaned back down to him, kissing him briefly before pressing your lips to his neck again. “Wanna come over instead?” You suggested softly, your lips ghosting over his ear.

Karl loped down the stairs in front of you, a heavy layer of smoke hanging in the air above your heads. A mass of people crammed themselves together, finding solace in each other after the long week. If you weren’t so hung up on getting into Karl’s pants, you might have considered joining them.

Before the two of you could reach the door, someone called out for Karl. Their voice boomed over the loudness of the music, making Karl wince slightly. His face flattened into a frown as “Todd” waved at the two of you. Karl took a few slugging steps to stand close enough to Todd’s group that they wouldn’t have to yell at each other. You settled your hand on Karl’s hip as you wrapped your hand around his waist, leaning against him. Todd’s eyes traced over you.

He wet his lips. “You guys leaving already?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and accepting the joint offered to him. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like the king of the castle. Luckily, you knew better. “Come on, play a game with us!” He suggested, patting the empty spot beside him. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell Karl was rolling his eyes. “I got a seat warmed up for you, baby girl,” he nodded towards you.

You perked an eyebrow in his direction and Karl slipped his hand into yours nonchalantly. “Thanks, but no,” Karl stated.

“Come on, Karl. Don’t make me pull pin.” At Todd’s words, Karl groaned reluctantly, the sound barely audible. You furrowed your brows at him. “Fifteen minutes. We were gonna play Never Have I Ever.”

You leaned towards Karl. “What’s pulling pin?” You mumbled.

“Flexing rank,” he grunted back. He tugged you with him to join the group. Before you could sit down, Todd pulled you into the spot beside him. You laughed nervously, watching as Karl’s features darkened as he sat across from the two of you. Todd handed you a drink, which you took but avoided sipping out of.

A boy beside Karl piped up. “Okay, so never have I ever graduated high school. My degree is literally fake.” The boy smiled before taking a drink, making you giggle slightly. Todd draped his arm around the back of the couch where you were sitting. He wasn’t touching you exactly but every ounce of his being was getting under Karl’s skin.

Todd smugly shook his head. “No, Zeke. Those aren’t the rules. You have to say something that’s not true about you. Like…” he trailed off slightly, his gaze settling on you before his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Never have I ever slashed someone’s tires.”

You humored him with a subtle smile as if to ask if he was serious. He gestured towards Karl, who took a drink. You bit back a grin. “Well, never have I ever masturbated to a girl my roommate’s sleeping with,” Karl retaliated. Your eyes grew wide, suddenly happy to watch the event unfold before you.

Todd took a drink after glaring at Karl. He leaned closer to you, this time his arm dropped to pull you against his side. “Do you wanna take a turn?” You shook your head, flashing your eyes to Karl before looping your fingers with Todd’s. Karl chewed the inside of his cheek, looking like he was holding back another laugh. “Alright, I’ll go.” Todd brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm. “Ah, I know. Never have I ever betrayed the secret oath of the frat and called the police.”

Karl took another sip, his eyes on you. “Yeah, because never have I ever set the house on fire trying to light a bong,” he answered, making you snort.

You let your free hand settle on Todd’s knee. “Awe, I’d light your bong for you,” you chided, making Todd laugh as he took a drink.

“I bet you could do a lot for me, Princess,” he flirted, his lips nearing your ear. You raised your eyebrows in Karl’s direction, who was sitting with his chin in his hand. His expression was darkly entertained as you flirted with Todd. “Speaking of,” Todd looked to Karl again. “Never have I ever fucked someone on my roommate’s bed,” he teased, tucking his nose in the crook of your neck.

Karl smirked. “You’re right, you probably haven’t,” he stated simply, downing the rest of his drink. Todd tensed slightly beside you. Karl stood, ruffling the hair of one of the other Brothers that were in the group before holding his hand out for you to take. As the two of you left, you heard one of the guys whistle and say something about never having peed in a pool before.

As the two of you left the house, you walked in time with Karl’s heavy steps, swinging your entwined hands as if you were completely oblivious. “I can’t believe I made you jealous,” you taunted. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he opened the passenger car door for you. Before you could slip into the seat, Karl’s hand gripped the back of your neck, bringing you to press your lips roughly against his. He pinned you between him and the cool metal of the car as the taste of beer spread across your tongue.

His fingers dug into your hips, his other hand tightening around your throat. The coolness of his tongue ring was a welcomed sensation as you attempted to find friction against his hips. Your fingers moved to close around his wrist as he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. His face was expressionless as his gaze danced from your lips to your eyes. “I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you for the way you acted,” he ribbed, stepping away from you.

You nearly slid down the side of the car at his words. “Okay,” you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks and ultimately to your core.

Karl’s calm exterior followed you until you finally got your apartment door open. Karl pinned you against the wood of your bedroom door, reaching to twist the lock as his lips began to commandeer your own. His hands dragged up your thighs beneath your skirt, squeezing at the flesh roughly. He yanked your shirt off, grinding his hips up and against yours as his teeth moved to nip at the skin of your neck before returning to badger your lips.

The taste of beer on his lips blended with your flavored chapstick as your tongue slipped into his mouth. In a mess of tugging and biting each other, your body melted into his rough grasp. You wanted whatever repercussions his twisted mind could come up with. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you. You fought against diving your hands into his jeans to beg him to continue, but he broke away from you as you fought to catch your breath.

Your lips were buzzing as the feeling of him still lingered. He brought his hand up to your jaw, tipping your chin up to him. “Fucking slut,” the devil’s grin painted across his face before he continued, pressing his lips against yours once more, his grin dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “You act like I don’t fucking own you,” he nearly growled, his face hovering over yours as his hand squeezed your throat. You moaned quietly as he regulated your breathing with his hand. You wanted to drink in his dark, commanding appearance.

He pushed you back on the bed, making you instinctively crawl up towards the pillows. He smirked slightly, undoing his belt and slipping it into his hands. He put the garment on your bedside table. After tugging his shirt off, he was on top of you again, pushing you into the pillows and the fluffy comforter. Karl’s lips seared yours, showing you how much command he had over your body. He ground his hips against yours, the fabric of his jeans digging into you to elicit a moan echo from your mouth. You could feel his erection hardening against your leg, the tension deep within you tightening at the prospect of what he was going to do to you.

His fingers tugged at your skirt, gripping the material in his fist and dragging it down your body as if it was nothing. He flipped you, your elbows crowding the pillows as you felt him sit on your back, snapping the belt in his hands again. You let out a short breath as Karl’s nails raked up your back before his fingers dipped in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. “I want you to scream my name tonight,” he groaned. You obliged as he dropped his grip on you.

He pulled your wrists between the bars of your headboard before binding you to the metal with his belt, yanking the leather to sinch against your skin. He dropped his head to press his lips against your shoulder, a tender nod of affection you knew would be the last. You leaned on your side to watch him sit back on his knees to unbutton his jeans. “Be gentle,” you leered, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your grin again as you watched him spit into his hand and stroke himself in preparation.

He chuckled. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured darkly through a smirk. He pulled your hips up and against his own, forcing your face into the mattress. Your hands tightened around the metal bars, as he angled himself at your entrance before driving himself into with an act of force you knew you deserved. A moan of his name slipped past your lips as his fingers dug into your hips, thrusting into you to drive himself deeper into you. “That’s right. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you,” he groaned, snapping his hips against yours.

Moans of pure bliss escaped your lips as his head neared yours. Karl used your hips as leverage for his unwavering pace, leaving you a mess of pleasure beneath him. His lips found their way to your neck as he nipped against the sensitive skin. You wanted him to mark you, to claim you, and he deserved to. His hand from your hair became wrapped around your throat as he began to reach his peak.

His hand slapped your ass with such force you knew there was a handprint, but you were too overwhelmed with the noises escaping his lips and your climax threatened to disobey your control to be concerned with the sting. If anything it threatened to push you over the edge. Your hands pulled against the leather of his belt as he pounded into you.

Your toes began to curl as he leaned over you, his breath fanning against your shoulder as you bit back heavy moans of pleasure. Karl’s hand was knotted in your hair again, his other fisting the sheets beside you. “Who’s making you feel this good? Huh?” You moaned out his name as he punctuated his sentence with the thrusts of his hips. “That’s right, you fucking slut.” You tightened around him, your orgasm sweeping over you with an element of shock.

You could practically hear Karl’s smirk as he moaned at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. He continued to ride you, finishing rather abruptly. He pressed his lips between your shoulder blades before loosening the belt around your wrists. Your back popped as you were finally able to move freely. He bit back a chuckle as you gingerly snuggled beneath the covers beside him. You slipped your hand across his torso, hugging his side against your chest as he rested an arm behind your head.

As you laid your head on his chest, his heartbeat began to steady, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. “I’d rather eat my own feet than sleep with Todd, you know,” you croaked, realizing just how much your voice was weakening, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Karl chuckled softly. “Me too,” he commented, making you smile slightly. “I’m actually…” he paused slightly before continuing as if searching for what he wanted to say exactly. “I’m actually not sleeping with anyone else.”

You couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. “I’m not either.” You hugged him tighter, letting his fingers twirl into your hair. “I’m good with you.”

“I’m good with you, too,” he mirrored, a smirk evident in his voice as his other hand traced over the red marks on your wrists from his belt.

Tags:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx

#karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs x reader #edgy!karl #edgy!karl jacobs #edgy aesthetic #eboy #🦋 anon #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut #karl jacobs imagine

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Study Bug

You have been studying for a big test at Pete’s house all week, and he’s determined to help you de-stress.

Request: “can u do a wanna help you relax but w pete?”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing

A/N: Midterms are tough and y’all need some love. I get it.

Word Count: 1920

Pete never stopped telling you how amazing you were. He loved how smart you were and how hard you worked in school. But he was starting to get worried about you.

You came over to his apartment one day, backpack on your shoulder. “Babe, can I study here? My roommates are being obnoxious.” He obviously said yes, excited to spend time with you even if you were studying. But that was three days ago and you hadn’t left his couch since.

He didn’t mind that you were staying there, he loved it when you spent the night at his place. It made him feel like you were living together. But he soon realized that by staying the night you weren’t actually spending the night with him.

He had tried to distract you plenty of times, but you were very stubborn when it came to studying. “Babe, as much as I want to hang out with you, I really need to study. This professor is an uptight asshole who makes his tests impossible to pass, and they’re the only grades we get in the class.”

Pete tried to understand and was ecstatic when you told him you would sit in his lap while you studied, but he wanted more. He fell asleep before you and woke up after you, every day. He hated waking up alone.

So, at midnight on your fourth straight day, he dragged you into bed. “Baby. I know you’re really stressed right now, and I’m not gonna minimize that, but you need to sleep.”

You mumbled out protests but let his arms carry you to the bed. “You would do the same to me if the roles were reversed.” You actually already had done that, many times when Pete would stay awake for days at a time for no reason at all.

But you had a plan. You laid in bed with him until you could hear his soft snores from behind you. You carefully wiggled out of the bed, quietly making your way back over to the couch and picking up where you had left off. And for a while, it worked. Pete was still asleep and blissfully unaware of your absence. Until he wasn’t.

Around 3am he woke up, reaching for you and finding an empty bed. He sighed, throwing his hands over his head. He rolled out of bed, walking to the couch where he knew he’d find you. He took in your figure, his shirt engulfing your body as you sat cross-legged with a textbook in your lap.

He thought you were beautiful, no matter what you were doing, and right now was no exception. Naturally, he wrapped his arms around you from behind the couch. His lips pressed against your neck, starting from near your collarbone and moving up until he was sucking on the sensitive skin behind your ear.

You suppressed a moan as he nipped back down your neck, leaving marks on your jaw. “Come back to bed, babe.” He mumbled against your skin, his hands moving to rest just under your breasts, rubbing the skin lightly.

You began to groan in protest when he moved his hand up slightly, grazing your nipple slightly, “you need to relax, de-stress.” He continued to press kisses along your jaw, moving up near your mouth. His hands found themselves on your clothed breasts finally, kneading them in between his fingers.

You pushed your tits further into his hands, your head moving to look up at him. His eyes were full of lust, a small smirk playing on his lips. You knew you were gone.

He pressed a hungry kiss to your lips, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you. He pulled you by your thighs to sit on his lap, your legs wrapped around his middle. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

Pete was only in his boxers, making it very easy to feel his growing hard-on through your thin panties. His hands moved from your thighs to your ass, massaging your cheeks in his hands. You moaned against his lips, your hips rolling into his slightly.

The more you made out, the wetter you got. You were sure your slick was soaking through your panties. “Mmm, Pete. Want you.” You whined, rolling your hips into his again.

Pete’s hands went up your back, holding you as he leaned forward, sending your back into the soft cushions of the couch. “You gotta be quiet, babe. My mom’s asleep.” You nodded, reattaching your lips to his as you pressed your hips up into his, his cock rubbing against your clit.

You reached down to pull your shirt over your head, but he reached up to stop you. “Wanna fuck you while you’re wearing my shirt, babe.” He whispered and you smirked, your hands moving back up to his neck, pulling at the hair at the base of his neck.

Pete’s hand moved down your stomach to the top of your panties. You unwrapped your legs from around him as he pulled them down your thighs and flinging them across the room. From his position at the opposite end of the couch he sent you a teasing smirk. “Fuck Pete just do something. Please.” You whisper-whined. He chuckled at you before crawling over to where you were, your legs spread open and ready for him.

You threw your head backwards against the arm of the chair as his head leaned down, his lips gently grazing your sensitivities. From just the small, barely-there touch you were bucking your hips into his face.

“Be patient, baby. I’m gonna make you feel good, don’t worry.” His breath hit your hole, leaving you whimpering. You looked back up at him, making eye contact as his tongue reached out to flick your clit. Fuck he was hot.

You watched him as he continued, his tongue licking p your slit to collect your juices. “You’re so wet for me, darling.” He muttered, his tongue swiping up you again. You bit your lip to stop the moans that were threatening to fall from them.

His hand began to move up your thigh, slowly, as his mouth continued its attack on you, switching between sucking your clit and tongue-fucking your pussy. His fingers finally stopped over your opening, gently swiping over them but not dipping in quite yet.

He collected your juices on his fingers and leaned back up to you. “Taste yourself, its like heaven in a pussy.” He moaned quietly as you sucked off his fingers. Once you had finished, he returned his lips to your bud, sucking and licking in ways he knew drove you crazy.

He finally pressed one of his long digits into you, after what felt like eternal teasing. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, muffling your moans of pleasure. His finger began to work you open, a second one following shortly. His mouth on your clit and his fingers in your cunt had you clenching around him in minutes.

As soon as he felt you nearing the edge, he pulled himself off of you, laughing lightly at your pout. He licked you off his fingers, your eyes following his every motion. He moved off the couch, going to his room and rustling around. When he emerged, he held a shiny foil packet in his hands.

You sat up on your knees as he came towards you. You snatched the condom from his hands, ripping it open and holding the rubber. You slowly palmed him through his boxers before pulling them down and off his legs. Your ran a hand up his length, pumping him just a little before you rolled the condom down his large dick.

You sat back on the couch, on leg propped up on the back of the couch and the other bent, foot flat on the floor. Pete moved towards you, his body hovering over yours. He brought his lips to meet your own in a soft yet passionate kiss. Your hands found their way to his hair as he slowly pushed into you, spreading your walls out.

You tried to keep your moans quiet, but his cock filled you up so fully that it was hard to. His hands moved to grab your breasts through his shirt, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He pulled out of you slowly and then thrusted back into you. The motion was slow at first, before he picked up pace. Your hips arched up to meet his at every thrust, whimpers falling from your mouth and into his.

He moved his hands to grab your thighs, moving your legs over his shoulders to dig himself even deeper into you. His large cock hit every spot in your cunt, sending you closer to the edge. You could feel him getting sloppy too, his cock twitching inside of you.

His hand moved from your leg to rub circles into your clit, grinning against your lips as you fought back screams. “I’m so close, Pete.” You mumbled against his lips.

He hummed, “yeah? You wanna cum?”

You nodded, “yes, oh fuck, please.” Pete loved to hear you beg for your release.

“I’m gonna count down from 5, darling. Then you can cum with me.”

His thrusts were harder, hitting your walls better than before.

“Five.”

The circles on your clit had you bucking your hips against his.

“Four.”

His lips moved to your collarbone, sucking a dark purple spot onto the skin.

“Three.”

His breath on your bare skin sent shivers down your body, making you clench around him even more.

“Two.”

The small whimpers falling from his mouth as he fucked you were your favorite sounds in the world.

“One.”

His cock twitched inside of you again.

“Cum for me, beautiful.”

Pleasure surrounded you, nauseating and blissful at the same time. Your hips met Pete’s thrusts as you both came undone together. His light pants against your skin only enhancing the high you felt. He carried you through your orgasm, thrusts slowing and softening.

You both laid there for a while, your legs finding their way back to the couch and his head resting against your neck. You were breathing in sync as the smell of your sex filled the air.

Eventually you found the strength to bring your hands to his hair, running through it softly. “Thank you.” You whispered as he looked up at you, a grin on his face.

“I love you.” He mumbled, leaning up to press a short kiss to your lips.

You mumbled against his lips, “I love you too.”

He finally sat up, pulling you into a sitting position with him. You fell into his chest, arms wrapping around him as the rest of your body went limp. “Let’s get you all cleaned up and then we’ll get some sleep, okay? And this time you’ll actually stay in bed.”

You nodded, letting out a small “okay.” He carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the counter and grabbing a soft cloth after ridding himself of his condom. He ran the cloth under warm water before pressing it against you, cleaning your juices off your thighs. Once you were both cleaned, he carried you back to the bedroom and threw you onto the bed, flopping in next to you.

“I love you, study bug.” He whispered, pulling you into him.

“I love you, teddy bear.” You said back to him before drifting off to peaceful sleep.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson smut #pete davidson fluff

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elysianslove · 3 years

Note

you know what sal...I think samu waits for you to actually straight up ask him 'is atsumu lusting for me or something 🤪' and then hes like yeah he is, because he doesn't want to make u uncomfortable or anything by teasing his brother with you.

I think it'd be especially torturous for tsumu if you joined in with the teasing. but not in the way that you might think. so say tsumu's over at yours and the three of you are watching a movie, you and samu sharing a blanket on the main couch and tsumu on the other beanbag or something, and you just start making out with samu. im talking lip biting, groaning, tongue sucking, hair pulling, the works. but then you open your eyes and give tsumu the most evil smirk ever while your tongue is in his bros mouth kfjlsjfdjfn and then you go back to making out with your onigiri man true love

- auri 💘

previous post (and posts previous to it are linked :))

but you’d be so scared to ask him about it, because if it wasn’t true and you were wrong, it would just mean that you’d been imagining it this whole time and it would mean it was you that wanted him and—

you ask anyway, lungs in your throat and hands shaking terribly. you ask him if his brother is lusting after you, and the moment the words leave your mouth, you wish to take it back. the question sounds even more ridiculous when you say it out loud, like it’s truly much worse than you could’ve ever imagined and a big part of you is regretting it terribly. but then osamu says, yeah, it’s obvious isn’t it? and you’re left gawking at him.

then you cautiously add, “and you’re— you’re okay with that?”

he stares back at you, brows furrowed in shock and confusion. “of course i’m not fucking okay with it. but i— i trust tsumu, and i trust you, so i’m not worried. just pissed.”

and obviously that night ends in amazing sex because what other way can you prove to him that no one can love you the way osamu can?

now, osamu’s not one to regularly get jealous, and on the rare occasion that he does, it’s incredibly subtle. his grip on your waist is tighter, smile is less sincere, words are harsher, quieter. it’s because he can’t help it, but at the same time believes that it’s a genuine waste of time, worrying over something like another person catching your eye. it’s impossible when he knows you as well as he does.

this time, however, it’s different, because it’s ‘tsumu, and osamu’s fucking possessive. there’s always an air of competition between them, regardless of what about. when in high school and either were dating, they made it so that they’re proving a point to one another— i’m in a relationship and you’re not. and that was fine, it was fun, because nothing had ever been serious. except he is serious with you. he married you. like shit’s by law now.

the rational part of him knows it’s not worth getting worked up over. he knows atsumu would never try anything, knows you wouldn’t either, and he understands. he gets why atsumu’s lusting after you so much, of course he does. really, he can’t blame him, not with the way your tits sit so pretty or your legs look so smooth or your lips seem so soft and kissable or the way you always smell so nice and smile so pretty. he knows you’re a prize, and it sometimes shocks him slightly how lucky he truly is to have you in his life, someone as — as lovely as you.

so he gets it, but he also hates it.

and that’s why when atsumu comes over the next night, he doesn’t hesitate to lean over and kiss at your neck, riling you up till you have no choice but to sigh and pull yourself up and onto his lap. there’s a movie playing in the background, but it’s not loud enough to cover up the noises you’re making— the pretty little sighs and gasps and moans. and it’s dark in the living room, but not dark enough to hide the way your body shudders and trembles and the grind and roll of your hips against the straining bulge against osamu’s trousers.

you’re right next to him, but, to atsumu’s dismay, it’s his brother’s lap you’re on. it’s his brother’s hands groping and squeezing and kneading at your thighs and your ass and your hips and your waist, and it’s his brother that’s kissing you so messily, so sloppily, so bruising and rough, that he’s pulling out the sweetest sounds deep from your belly and your chest and your throat. you’re whining and mewling and fuck— fuck both of you.

“seriously?” he scoffs, but the two of you barely acknowledge him, osamu offering him the middle finger. he rolls his eyes and decides he’ll just fucking leave then, and heads to the bathroom.

he’s both unsurprised and pissed to see that he’s hard. because it isn’t fucking fair. he takes a minute or two to breathe, to try and think of anything else, but his mind keeps diverting back to the way you rolled your hips so expertly, like you were made for riding cock, and the sounds spilling from your lips that he only gets even harder. it’s a second later that he shoves his pants and boxers down, making sure the door’s locked, before pulling the hem of his shirt between his teeth, biting down hard as he fists at his cock. he tries to make it quick, rolls his hips and flexes his abs and strokes so harshly, so quickly, and he cums embarrassingly quick with your name muffled against his shirt.

the come-down is always fucking awful. he hates himself for even considering you in such a way. you’re his sister-in-law, and he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this, lusting after you so lewdly, so openly. and shit, his brother probably knows now, and if he didn’t stop, if he didn’t hold back, it would get so, so messy. he’s not about to risk ruining both his relationship with his brother and his brother’s relationship with you because he’s too horny for his own good.

he’s about to leave — entirely too, maybe even avoid the two of you for a couple of days, hook up with someone that looks like you so he can sate himself— when he spots it: the laundry basket. it seems misplaced, like you’d brought it here and were gonna get to it before forgetting, which makes sense considering this is a guest bathroom. but all that atsumu can see is your carelessly tossed panties hanging off the edge and he’s stupid, stupid, stupid—

of course he fucking reaches for them. of course once his fingers touch the frilly pair of panties he’s tugging at them so quickly, bunching it up in his hand and staring at his palm like he’s carrying gold.

would you notice?—

shit he’s not actually... considering this, is he? what a fucking pervert, holy shit.

you wouldn’t notice though. probably not. they’re a black pair. you probably have loads of black pairs. he’s heard that black underwear is essential for girls. maybe it’s like that with you too.

before he can think it through even further, he’s shoving the pair in his pocket, and making some dumb excuse to leave, not allowing you two to even see him on his way out. and when he’s home and safe from prying eyes, his wide eyes catch sight of a wet patch on the crotch area, and— fuck these weren’t even clean? god was this from today? right before he’d come over?

when he fucks himself for the second time that night, face buried in the mattress as he fucks a pillow where your underwear sits, he cums with a full body shudder, and his mind hazes over at the sight of his sticky cum messily painting the dark cloth white.

#haikyuu smut #miya atsumu smut #miya osamu smut #miya twins smut #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #sal’s thirst tag <3 #tw infidelity #i think #— vip <3 auri 💘

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my-pink-yandere · 3 years

Text

❤Obsession❤

Prompt: Yandere Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki (separately) has a crush on Y/N...who is actually obsessed over a fictional character.

C/N: Character Name

Warnings: Yandere Tendencies, Swearing, Also this is sorta long cause I wrote a lot ;-;

💥Katsuki Bakugou💥

❥ This boy is angered when he finds out about this

❥ Like wow he’s super pissed

❥ If you’re unfortunate enough to ever have a Yandere Bakugou take a liking to you, when he realizes that you’re obsessing over someone who isn't him, a fictional character nonetheless, he’s... well...

❥ “Very upset” would be an understatement

❥ He sees that as basically losing to a person who doesn’t even exist

❥ The chaos begins when he’s in the middle of his daily routine of admiring staring at you from afar, and when you stand up with one of your friends and begin walking out of the cafeteria, he hears a few... interesting statements escape your mouth as you pass him by

❥ “I can’t believe you actually like them, Y/N! You’re totally hopeless when it comes to love, huh?” His head was tilted your way, seeing your friend looking disappointed and you looking flustered. “It’s not my fault they're so perfect!” you answered, practically radiating embarrassment. He smirked, assuming you were talking about him. I mean, who else would you get so worked u about>

❥ “Besides, I’m not the only one who simps for C/N! So shh-”

❥ ...

❥ All that’s going through Bakugou’s head right now is why that name wasn't his

❥ He’s gone eerily still, and all of his friends sort of stop and look at him

❥ “Bakubro? You good-”

❥ Bakusquad is going to have to hold Katsuki back from blowing up the entire cafeteria

❥ This b*tch only sees red rn

❥ ‘WHO’S THE PERSON YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT AND WHERE CAN I FIND THEM SO I CAN BREAK THEIR F*CKING KNEECAPS’

❥ he got murder on his mind :0

❥ Despite how angered Bakugou is, he’s not a complete dumbass, believe it or not

❥ He’s not going to confront you about it, at least not right now.

❥ Once he calms tf down, he’ll come to his senses and have his top priority being to get rid the competition first, meaning he has to hunt down whoever C/N is and delete them from existence

❥ When he learns that C/N is actually a fictional character from some anime tbh he just feels extra insulted

❥ You chose a f*cking fictional character over him >:(

❥ It’s now where he begins to get even angrier when he realizes how easy it should’ve been for him to notice sooner. All the stickers on your school supplies, the pins on your bags, how you’d sometimes sneak in their merchandise to show off to your friends at lunch

❥ It was when he overheard you possibly owning a body pillow where he went feral

❥ Will go out of his way to steal your shit and burn all of your merchandise of C/N, or anything that would remind you of the character

❥ He’d catch you when you were alone, and would shove you off your feet as he’d grab your bag and roughly go through it, angrily tearing off the stickers on your notebooks and pins off your bag as your crying and screaming at him to stop

❥ At this point he doesn’t care about how you feel about this at all. It’s never even crossed his mind (blind rage)

❥ His plan is to pluck C/N out of your life, replacing all your thoughts of them with just him, so you’re only thinking of him

❥ It doesn't matter to him if they're good thoughts or bad thoughts

❥ All that matters is that you’re thinking of him

❥ Only him.

In a nutshell, he’s gonna steal all of your items that have any reference to C/N and get rid of it all. He doesn't care how much he’s hurting you by doing this, he’ll concern himself with your feelings later. He’s going to hang around you more despite your protests for him to just leave you alone, quite literally forcing his way into your life so that he infests himself into your brain and become the only thing you think about, so that you can truly understand how he feels about you.

💚Izuku Midoriya💚

❥ Bold of you to assume he doesn't already know about this “obsession” of yours

❥ This child takes notes on EVERYTHING and ANYTHING related to you, so he obviously knew about your love for this certain fictional character

❥ At first glance, he believes your obsession with C/N is similar to him with All Might- just an innocent but deep admiration for them

❥ He’ll buy you their merchandise and gift it to you at school (accompanied by some flowers and sweet little cards of course ❤)

❥ He was nervous to do this at first, his crush on you rendering him a stuttering, blushing mess whenever you so much as glanced his way, but he pushed through his anxiety just to see your cute smile and feel your warm hug when he gives you those gifts

❥ He cherishes those moments more than anything, to see you so happy

❥ (Especially because it was him to make you so excited! Not Kirishima or Uraraka... him)

❥ He’ll binge the entire show as fast as he can and memorize everything he deems as important just so he can chat with you about it at school

❥ “Isn’t C/N so cool?” he asked you, and you had quickly turned to him with a surprised and then starry gaze. “Izuku, you like them too?!”

❥ You were both on a first name basis now ;D (You even gave him a little nickname: ‘Zuku. Let’s just say he was a bit more than ecstatic when you began referring to him in such an informal way. You must really like him! ❤)

❥ And Midoriya, being the delusional little yandere he is, sees this as you both basically dating

❥ You both hang out everyday at school, discussing the show and characters, who your favorites were, how the plot was going, etc.

❥ You see him as one of your closest friends now, and eventually you trust him enough to bring him to your house to chill without your family home ;0

❥ The thing was, Midoriya noticed how you would never invite anyone from school to your house, always brushing it off and just saying how your parents would get angry or how dirty your room was

❥ This was the first time you’d ever invited anyone from U.A. over to your house

❥ His thoughts were running wild as you both walked home together: ‘What’s Y/N’s house like? Will their parents be home? Why have they avoided anyone coming over until now? Have they only invited me because we’re dating? Are... are we going to kiss?????’

❥ (For clarification, even with the dorms in place, over the weekend you like to hang out at home where you’re more comfortable)

❥ “We can re-watch some of the episodes for awhile. I think I also have some snacks...” you grinned, and he memorized every detail of your house as you both made your way to your room

❥ He was greeted with a room filled entirely with C/N merchandise, but caught his attention the quickest was your bed

❥ You had a body pillow of C/N

❥ Now Midoriya, like I said before, is a very delusional yandere

❥ He has excuses for literally everything you do. You love him just as much as he loves you after all!

❥ But this

❥ This he cannot ignore

❥ He was just staring at the pillow with a blank face as his eye twitched

❥ “’Zuku? What's wrong?”

❥ “Hmm?” he hummed, turning towards you. “Oh, nothing! It’s just, um, your pillow...”

❥ You felt your face catch on fire as you moved to block his view as you tried to quickly shove it under your bed. “UHM, HAHA SORRY ‘BOUT THAT I FORGOT IT WAS THERE-”

❥ Midoriya was quiet as he watched you struggle at hiding the pillow

❥ He was thinking

❥ He loved All Might a lot, but he’d never buy a body pillow of him

❥ What type of love did you have for C/N?

❥ “Hey Y/N?” You turned to look at him, but the moment your eyes met you felt a shiver run down your back. Izuku was smiling at you, but his whole vibe was different...

❥ ‘Was he angry?’

❥ “Why don’t we watch a different series today?”

In a nutshell, he’d go along with your character obsession up until you cross the line, and that would be either him finding out about you reading fan fiction of C/N, a body pillow of them, or some... questionable fan art you have of them saved on your phone. Then he’d do anything in his power to distance you from that show, hiding your merchandise and distracting you with more hero-related hobbies, like geeking over pro heroes or training. Just please stop simping over C/N. You’re making the smol boi jealous of a fictional character :( Why can’t you just pay attention to him a bit more?

❄️Shoto Todoroki🔥

❥ Tbh he doesn't really acknowledge your love for this certain character for awhile

❥ All he focuses on is that you look really happy and cute when you talk about this show

❥ That’s all that really matters to him 😊

❥ Similar to Izuku, he’ll buy you all of their merchandise just to see you all adorable and excited

❥ And Todoroki is a rich boi so that’s a plus

❥ Will probably buy u all the expensive merchandise and you’ll just be 🥺️💞💞💞

❥ The only reason he never really gets angry is because he doesn't understand what's so terrible about your little obsession with the show/character

❥ He just sees it as a little hobby of yours that you’re really passionate about

❥ Despite his cold demeanor, Shoto is always trying his best to support anything you do

❥ While he can get very intense as a yandere, we gotta remember this is Shoto we’re talking about

❥ He probably has no clue what simping even is

❥ He only gets bothered when you own a body pillow or compliment C/N looks too much (he doesn’t appreciate you getting so worked up over someone who isn’t him... even though you both aren’t technically dating)

❥ But he wont flip out like Midoriya or Bakugou

❥ If you both are on the couch at the dorms and you're just going on and on about C/N he’d prob just like-

❥ Reach over and grab your hand and just state how cute you are

❥ He’s a bit of an idiot when it comes to flirting, but he notices that whenever he touches you in an affectionate way you sort of freeze up and forget what you're talking about for a few seconds

❥ Because of how supportive Shoto’s been you sorta developed feelings as well

❥ Cause I mean who wouldn't ;)

❥ He becomes your close supportive weeb friend :D (even if he doesn’t completely understand what a weeb is...)

❥ But Todoroki doesn't like that title that much

❥ But he’ll take it slow because he loves you and wants you to love him back :)

❥ “I like it when you smile like that, Y/N.”

In a nutshell, Yandere Todoroki is prob the calmest of the three. He doesn't understand how simping works and the idea of you passionately loving a fictional character more than him has never crossed his mind. But he uses your love of the show to get closer to you. Closer and closer and closer-

Until maybe he can just be the one to make you smile, and not just that character from the show :)

#yandere x reader #bnha #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #yandere bnha x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #bnha imagines #yandere bnha imagines #yandere todoroki #shoto todoroki #yandere todoroki x reader #yandere deku #yandere midoriya #izuku midoriya #yandere deku x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugo x reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

mango, m | jjk | 1

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story will eventually touch on parental abuse and suicide; suggestive words/actions; mentions of nightmares plaguing the reader; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok and friendly!Namjoon

yes it’s MAMA 2020 JK, it do really be like that

–

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Did you do the Chemistry homework?”

You chewed the piece of dried mango in your mouth slowly. You knew that smooth voice. It was hard not to know it. Everyone at this university knew that voice, for better or for worse. You put down the book you were reading for your seminar class – Neuromancer, by William Gibson, translated into Korean. You turned your head, only a bit. Not facing him.

“I’m not about to let you cheat right in front of the professor, Jeon Jungkook.”

You heard rustling, rearrangement, and the seat next to you was suddenly filled with leather and denim, black hair with too much gel in it, and cheekbones higher than your GPA, which was quite high, both weighted and unweighted.

“Come on,” he whined in his deep voice that was not meant for whining. “You always sit in the front now. Move a couple rows back so I can copy.”

You reached into your messenger bag and pulled out another piece of dried mango. Placed the orange fruit in between your teeth and held it there, moving it from side to side. Jungkook was watching your mouth with his dark chocolate eyes. You sucked it into your lips and chewed.

“Why do you think I always sit in the front row, hm?”

You lifted your book again and continued reading, Chemistry homework right in front of you on the lecture hall’s narrow table. You didn’t bother to look up again until the teacher called for attention. Jungkook was no longer sitting next to you.

You had your eyes closed, leaning back against the wall, Samsung buds tucked safely in your ears, violins serenading you. Chemistry was going to start soon, but you had gotten here far too early. You wanted to read more of Neuromancer, but the class discussion was going to be on chapters one to three and you were already on chapter ten.

It was a bad habit, but you had many of them.

You felt movement next to you. Opened your eyes.

“You look different today,” Jeon Jungkook remarked. Smirking, with his black hair slicked back, different leather jacket, weird silver-coated pants. Holding his backpack by one strap, far too deflated for it to be containing much. Your messenger bag was smaller, but full of papers shoved into folders.

You tilted your head and reached into your bag. Pulled out another piece of dried mango, sticking it in between your teeth. Turned it around with your tongue, coating it with the sugary outside.

You were wearing a high-necked black dress, long-sleeved with a short skirt. Velvet, patterned tights with thorned roses and black boots with a ten-centimeter platform.

You sank your teeth into the softened mango and sucked it into your lips.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

You closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the professor opening the lecture hall with his keys.

The outfit you wore last Chemistry lecture was an oversized purple sweatshirt and short black skirt, with opaque purple tights and black sneakers.

You were standing in the school store, picking up three packs of dried mango.

You brought them to the counter, to the student cashier. She rang you up and handed them back to you. You walked out, shoving them into your bag. Catching the eye of a certain someone.

“You shouldn’t eat so much sugar,” Kim Namjoon teased, nudging you with his arm.

Your eyes shifted to him and you slowly opened a bag. Shoved one in your mouth.

“They’re not that high in sugar,” you replied. “Read the nutrition facts.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Added sugar. Fruit is still sugar.”

“Mother Nature wouldn’t try to kill me.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Um, viruses? Bacteria? Other human beings?”

“Viruses and bacteria are objective. They do not have desires or motivations,” you replied calmly, chewing. “Human beings are an abomination.”

“Still natural.”

“Then ‘artificial’ would have no meaning.”

“Artificial is defined as made by human beings.”

“Human beings are made by other human beings.” You stopped at a door, the seminar class. “The line is blurred.” You opened the door and entered, seeing the ten other students as you sat down in the middle, pulling out Neuromancer. Namjoon sat down next to you, pulling out his dog-eared book, wrinkled from being dropped in puddles. It was a stark contrast to your pristine copy.

“Did you finish reading?”

“Yeah,” you said simply as the lecture began.

Today, you wore pants.

Baggy, black, thick denim jeans with an oversized black sweater. A thick black belt, tight around your waist. No graphics. Hair down, too messy to have been brushed. You turned in your Chemistry homework at the front of the class and went to the far right. Sat down next to the wall where you knew the seat next to you was broken.

Last night was plagued with nightmares. You hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. You missed the first bus and, instead of your usual habit of being early, you ended up being on time today. In your book, on time meant late.

Nothing was going right today.

You watched the professor collect the homework.

You looked away, pulling out another book. Prey, by Michael Crichton. It was taking you a while to read this one. You had to look up words. English wasn’t your first language and the book was heavy with scientific terms. You cursed your lack of knowledge. It felt like you were losing some of the meaning by not knowing English well enough.

“I had to look for you today.”

Your nails curled into the softcover of the book.

Jeon Jungkook slid into the seat below you, grinning. Too much slicked black hair, leather creaking as he settled. Eyes dark like a starless sky.

You reached into your messenger bag. The plastic rustled as you felt around. Only two pieces left. Sigh, of course. You pulled one out. Placed it in your teeth. Spun it with your tongue. Jungkook watched, looking up at you. You snapped your teeth into it.

The piece sticking out of your lips fell.

Jungkook’s right hand shot out and caught it before it touched the ground. Ink black tattoos winked at you. Small ones, one of a smiley face with x’s for eyes, one of a heart, another of a king’s crown. One by one, his long fingers curled open, revealing the small piece of dried mango.

You chewed, eyes flickering to his face.

Jungkook smirked and pulled his hand back. He inspected the fruit, the curved part where your teeth had sliced into. Then he popped it into his mouth, eyes shifting to you.

But you were already reading your book, nose deep and ignoring him.

“Just let me try.”

You frowned, but held out your hands.

Jung Hoseok, your childhood best friend, inspected your nails. He had a row of tools in front of him. You were in his shabby little apartment. He didn’t attend university. He was a street dancer, sometimes a backup dancer for idol groups. He choreographed for a few lesser-known idols too. You knew Hoseok was going to get his big break soon.

You two rarely saw each other anymore.

He asked last week if he could practice painting your nails. He had odd hobbies like that. Hoseok liked fashion too. He was wearing colorful beaded bracelets, vintage white t-shirt, and loose gray sweatpants. Pink headband and a green hair tie holding up his bangs like a sprout.

The only reason Hoseok was your best friend was because you didn’t have any other friends, thus making him the best by default.

He began to file your long nails.

“Do you have a preferred shape?”

You blinked at him. “I don’t care.”

Hoseok smiled. “I think pointed nails would look good on you.”

“Okay.”

You were still wearing your baggy black jeans. Hoseok’s honey brown eyes went from your nails to your legs.

“Are you okay?”

You gave him a blank look.

Hoseok put down the glass nail file. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend.”

You shook your head slowly. “You’re busy. I think all your hard work will be noticed soon. You’re blowing up on Instagram.”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide. “You made an Instagram?”

“Only to follow you. I haven’t posted anything.”

He gave you a grateful smile. The tiny dimples on the sides of his lips appeared. “Thanks.”

You nodded. The sides of your mouth moved up robotically. Hoseok nudged you, picking up the glass nail file again.

“Don’t pretend smile. I can tell.”

“Sorry.”

Minutes passed. Hoseok blew the filed keratin away gently and wiped your nails with some acetone. He held out the colors. All bright. You picked the violet and he grinned.

“You can talk to me.”

“It’s always the same shit, Hoseok.”

He frowned, painting cautiously. The harsh scent of nail polish filled your nose.

“Even if it is,” Hoseok murmured, trying not to disturb his careful work. “Talking about it will help you vent.”

“Catharsis is scientifically proven to be completely useless and sometimes amplifies the condition.”

Hoseok gave you a displeased look.

“Sorry.”

He sighed at your apology. He had told you many times before to stop apologizing for nothing. You just did automatically. Trained from repeated years of trying not to be a nuisance. Trying not to be there when you were obviously there. Hoseok tapped the purple against his palm, trying to prevent it from getting goopy.

“You can stay here,” Hoseok remarked. “I said you could.”

You shook your head. “You can barely pay your own electricity bill. And you’ll never get laid if you live with a ghost.”

Hoseok laughed. He had a fun laugh, a great one that was real and genuine. “You can joke around.”

You smiled.

Hoseok could always make you smile at least once.

Today it was a tight black leather skirt with a baggy white dress shirt. Black tights with a pinstripe design, silver and black ankle boots. Black turtleneck under the white shirt. And your purple fingernails with yellow smiley face nail stickers, done by Jung Hoseok himself.

You had thought about wearing your baggy jeans again, but seeing your painted nails made you change your mind for some reason.

You sat in the front row of the Chemistry lecture hall. Pulled out Prey by Michael Crichton once again, phone handy to look up translations. You had ten minutes.

The creak of leather squeaked next to you. Instantly, your left hand slid down.

You left long fingers encase yours suddenly, stopping you from reaching into your messenger bag. Your teeth sank into your lower lip. The strong fingers held you tight, stroking your knuckles. Slight calluses, filed and well-kept nails.

“I like your nail polish.”

You ripped your hand out of Jeon Jungkook’s grasp. Shoved it into your bag and pulled out a piece of dried mango.

Didn’t look at him.

Just put it in your mouth and chewed, staring straight ahead.

“You look cute today.”

Chewed.

“Did you–”

You stabbed your finger to the desk, taking your book from it. Didn’t say anything.

He copied your homework.

“You alright?”

Namjoon stood up as the seminar class ended.

“You were quiet today. Usually, you have a lot to say.”

You placed your papers in your folder mechanically and looked up at him. “Was I?”

Namjoon nodded. “Kind of missed having your devil’s advocate point of view.”

Your head lowered. You stared at your left hand for a second. Remembering the feeling of Jeon Jungkook’s hand clutching yours.

“Have a lot on my mind.”

There were no packs of dried mango on the shelf.

None.

You went to the cashier. Asked when they would restock.

“Some guy bought all of them.” The cashier frowned. “I’m sorry. I know you’re the only one who buys them. I’ll reorder and keep extras behind the counter from now on.”

You stepped out of the school store. You only had a few pieces left. You took your phone out of your pocket and checked the nearest grocery store. It was only a few bus stops away. You began to walk out of the student common area, calling the number. Asking if they had dried mango in stock. They did. Could you keep three bags behind the counter? They could. You said you would be over right away.

Black leather right in front of your face.

You walked around it.

It followed you.

You stopped and hung up. Slowly raised your head.

Jeon Jungkook stared at you. He was holding a bag from the school store. It was filled to the brim with packs of cellophane-wrapped dried mango. His black hair was slicked back, eyebrow raised. Eyes so dark that they reminded you of a bottomless pit. No smirk this time. Serious, his dark brows furrowed.

You gave him a black stare. Then you tried to move around him.

He grabbed your upper arm tightly, shoving the bag into your chest. You recoiled, but he grabbed your other arm and clamped it over the plastic. You pushed it back at him and he planted his hand down on your forearm, firmly.

You felt a little tick in your face as a muscle tensed. You did not look at him.

“Call them back,” Jungkook stated. “Tell them you don’t need it anymore.”

Your eyes shifted back and forth.

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Do it.”

His hand was immobile on your forearm, fingers burying in the loose white fabric of your dress shirt. Your other hand held your phone. You awkwardly redialed the number and brought it to your ear. Told the pleasant lady that you found some dried mango, but thank you for holding it. She said it was no problem and told you to have a great day.

Jungkook let you go.

You ran away, clutching the bag.

When you arrived to your own shabby apartment, you dumped the packs dried mango all over your bed, a rainstorm of crinkled plastic. You were panting from running. Heart beating so fast you thought you were dying.

You lived in the poor part of the city. The apartments were like coffins, one room, tiny kitchenette with one stovetop, one sink. A tiny bathroom with a shower. No living room, just your twin bed in the center. You lived alone, because your mother worked overseas to pay for you to go to university.

The other parent could never come looking for you anymore.

You stared at the packs of dried mango. Why had he done that? You didn’t understand.

You didn’t understand Jeon Jungkook.

The landlord came by, knocking on the door. You backed away from the pile of mango and opened the front door, seeing the old man’s face.

He smiled at you. Thanked you for paying for in advance. You nodded mutely. He looked past you, at the bed covered in dried mango. Asked you how you were doing, if you were okay. You nodded again, not replying.

The old man smiled at you, somewhat sadly. Pity in his eyes. But you couldn’t speak to him. You couldn’t reply. You didn’t have a pack of mango with you, so you were voiceless.

He told you that if you ever needed anything to let him know.

You nodded, silent.

The old man bowed and let you be.

You closed the door, locked it. Back flat against it, breathless. Winded from nothing. Your eyes flickered to the bed. Something came over you. You stalked over to it. Then you shoved the plastic bags of dried mango away, off your bed, throwing them everywhere. Watching them fall, one by one, tumbling, tumbling, thundering plastic all around you.

You panted hard, staring at your hands. At the purple nail polish, chipping a little.

You wondered when the nightmares would finally go away.

You sat in the front row in the Chemistry lecture.

Red skirt, oversized grey sweater. Opaque black tights. Black sneakers.

Staring straight ahead. Chewing on a piece of dried mango.

Trying to hold on.

You hadn’t slept at all last night. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was apathy. In the morning, you had thought about wearing baggy pants again. But those purple nails winked at you, only a few smiley faces clinging on. Hoseok would have told you to wear something nice, if you called him then.

So, you wore a skirt and waited for lecture to start, chewing.

You reached into your bag, fishing for another piece. It wasn’t there. The plastic pack of dried mango was gone.

You jerked your head abruptly. It was being held out to you, from the tattooed right hand of Jeon Jungkook. He stared at you. Dark eyes so intense it felt like hellfire. Hair slicked back with too much gel. Leather jacket over a black shirt.

He did not speak this time.

You tried to take the bag, but he held it tightly. Pried open the opening a little wider, tipping it to you.

You reached in. Grabbed a piece.

Jungkook watched you. In between the teeth. Turning it with your tongue, licking off the sugar. Sucking it in, making it disappear into the pink canal.

He lowered the packet, putting it back in your messenger bag. Took out your book, handing it to you.

He did not speak.

Your hand grasped the softcover copy of Prey. Jungkook kept staring at you. Your eyes went to the book. To the words on the page. Away from Jeon Jungkook and his piercing eyes.

“Did you get compliments on your nails?”

“One.”

Hoseok smiled cheerfully as he gently took off the purple nail polish. It still stank of acetone though. “Oh? Did it feel nice?”

“I don’t know.”

Hoseok tilted his head, frowning. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Your eyes shifted. “I don’t know because I don’t know if it was a genuine compliment or a ruse.”

“Ruse for what?” Hoseok quipped, planting the cotton ball on your nail and holding it down.

You thought of that slicked black hair and those corrupting black eyes.

“Hoseok.”

“Mhm?”

“Why did you suddenly have an interest in painting nails?”

Hoseok paused. His honey brown eyes flashed up to you. Then he looked back down at your hands.

“Because it is a frivolous thing.”

You blinked at him. He wiped your nails clean. He tapped the bottle of base coat, along with a top coat and the same bright colors.

“It is something purely for fun and vanity. It has no real meaning and is only good for self-care.”

“Did you rehearse this?”

He held up the bottle of base coat and frowned at you, closing his eyes and trying to remember the rest of his speech.

“It is something you won’t do for yourself, so I want to do it for you.” His brown orbs found yours. There was something conflicted in those eyes. “I want to spend time with you. I want you to know this. I want you to remember you have a friend when you look at your hands.”

Your lips parted.

“I can’t be there and hold you when you wake up from the nightmares.”

You looked down, down at your lap of your red skirt and grey oversized sweater.

“I know I cannot make them stop. I know I cannot change what has happened to you or make it better.”

Hoseok held your hands tightly, even though you weren’t looking at him. Held you, voice apologetic and hurting for you, feeling for you when you tried so desperately to feel nothing at all.

“But I want you to remember, every time you look at your hands. You have a friend.”

“I like your nail polish.”

Your nails were neon pink and green, with small flower stickers. Hoseok said the top coat should keep the stickers on better this time. He was learning. He said YouTube helped.

You reached into your bag, but a piece of dried mango appeared next to your lips. Your eyes traveled up that those well-kept nails and the tan hand with the tiny tattoos, up the leather sleeve, to the slicked-back black hair and angular jaw of Jeon Jungkook. His pink lips had a tiny mole under them. Those dark chocolate eyes stared at you.

“Eat it.”

Your hand reached for it, but he shook his head once.

“Eat it,” he repeated.

You leaned forward, the fabric of your purple sweatshirt bunching. Caught the dried fruit with your teeth, pulled back. Turned it in your mouth. Sucked it in and chewed.

Jungkook seemed satisfied. His eyes went down to your black leather skirt and black pinstriped tights. Black and silver ankle boots. Eyes back up, stopping at your thighs. Then he looked up at you.

And for once you weren’t nose deep in Prey.

You were staring at him.

“Give me your phone.”

You unlocked your phone and handed it to him.

Jungkook found the messenger app and typed in a new message. You watched him. He typed your name into the text bubble and sent it to a number. Then he handed your phone back to you.

You took it.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

957 notes · View notes

slafkovskys · 3 years

Note

thinking bout being in a situationship w matty where we are ‘just friends’ but everyone can see straight through that and u cant sleep so u just go over to his at like 3am and he instantly puts u to sleep just buy holding u

toss. turn. sigh.

you open your eyes and stare at the ceiling fan as it completes another lap, digging your fingers into the fabric of your comforter in frustration. it had been hours since you had begun your attempt at falling asleep, but it had been futile. you hadn’t gotten a single second of sleep.

your phone lay beside your head, unplugged and half charged considering you had spent some time on it trying to make yourself tired. obviously, it didn't work. you had an inkling of what would though, the last ditch effort if you were honest.

with a groan, you reach for your phone and pull up his contact. your thumb hesitates before it finally presses down on the call button. it rings once, twice, and in the middle of the third when you are ready to hang up, he answers, “y/n?”

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat, “i- i can’t sleep.”

“i figured,” his voice is raspy and you can tell that you woke him up. you glance at the clock on your bedside table, 3:03. jesus. “i’ll meet you outside. don’t go out until i tell you i’m out there, okay?”

“yeah,” you nod even though he can’t see you. after throwing the covers off of your body, you slip your feet into your sneakers, “thank you matty.”

“i’d do anything for you, y/n and you know that,” he sighs and you hear some rustling on his end. you hear his door opening and the sound of him going down the stairs. you peak your head out of your front door just in time to see the light on his front porch flick on and matty step out, “i thought i said to wait.”

“you can see that far?” you raise an eyebrow, locking the door behind you and making your way to the street. “you aren’t 20/20 though.”

three houses. that’s all that separated you and matty when he was home. compared to the three states that it usually was during the school year, it was definitely an improvement.

he scoffs, “you wanna talk about eyesight right now?”

you make your way up his driveway, ending the call and melting into his arms when he opens them for you. your arms wrap around his naked torso and your lips press to his gently, “no, i just want to go to sleep.”

“i’m sure,” he opens the door for you, and instantly, a white furball is circling your feet. “bella, chill. you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“leave her alone,” you bend down and she stretches her neck to meet your hand. “hi sweet girl. long time no see.”

“approximately 36 hours,” he supplies, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you up the stairs, as though you didn’t know the layout of his house as well as your own. he was acting as though you hadn’t been sneaking in here to sleep for the past three years.

well, you would use the word ‘sneak’ very loosely. his parents were very aware of your presence in their son’s bed most nights and had been for a while. his mother had walked in one morning before you could sneak out and after a very embarrassing conversation in his kitchen, you had been given permission in the form of a house key that afternoon and a standing breakfast invitation on the mornings you were over. they never knew the full extent as to why you had such problems falling asleep and they never asked.

you were thankful for that.

“what was it tonight?” he asks as he closes the door behind you both, after bella slips in and parks herself at the door of his bed of course. he pulls his pajama pants down as you slip under the covers, melting under his sheets. he slips in beside you and pulls you closer with a gentle hand on your hip, “you were good when we talked on the phone earlier.”

“don’t wanna talk about it,” you wrap your hand around his bicep as his lips press a gentle kiss to his head. “you’re such a good friend, matty. thank you again.”

you swear he stops breathing after your utterance and you immediately want to take it back, but he recovers quickly, “yeah, of course. like i said, anything for you.”

in his arms, you start to drift easily. your grip around his arm loosens while the hand that he has on your hip stays an ever-pressing reminder of him. of his comfort. of the feeling that he brought you every time you found himself in his bed. that feeling of home. of safety. something you couldn’t find anywhere else, or in any other person.

he stays quiet while you drift away, chin resting atop your head. “i love you,” he mutters and you can hear the pain in his voice as he says it. you want to respond, but you were too far gone to give him the response he so desperately craved.

i love you too.

#matty beniers #concepts

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hrina · 4 years

Text

In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

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#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

New Possibilities

Category: Romance, Friendship

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Hiyori Iki, Yato, Yukiné

Hiyori’s eyebrows were scrunched tightly together, forming a deep furrow in the middle of her brow. Her rose-colored eyes stared intently at the letter she held in her hands, addressed to her in neat, printed letters. The addressee was a sticker with “University of Tokyo College of Clinical Medicine” printed in bold, black letters over the circular orange-and-blue logo. Here in her hands, she held her destiny—the decision on her admittance or rejection from the top medical school in Japan.

As her fingers began to shake, she squeezed her eyes shut so she could force herself to breathe deeply in and out. There was no time to be nervous! If she got to in her head, she wouldn’t be able to open the letter! She squashed the feeling of nausea rising in her stomach before snapping her eyes open, rose irises burning with determination.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped the envelope around so she could tear open the top, careful not to accidentally rip the letter in the process. She let the envelope flutter to the floor after removing the folded piece of paper inside. She gulped while she stared at the blank white backside, nervousness rising once more inside her. With trembling fingers, she slowly straightened out the paper and skipped down to the first line of words printed on the fancy letterhead.

“Dear Miss Iki, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…”

Hiyori didn’t even finish the sentence, for a squeal burst out of her mouth, unable to be contained. She threw her arms in the air and began to jump around her room, delighted cries of “Yes, yes, yes!” gushing from her overjoyed body. She was going to medical school, the best medical school! She was going to be a doctor!

She stopped hopping around to snap her face back to the letter, reading it once, twice, three times to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. No, there it was in black and white—Hiyori was accepted. Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes, and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away, just let them roll down her cheeks. This was one of the happiest days of her life, so a few happy tears were definitely in order.

She hugged the letter to her chest, and the sound of the paper crinkling was music to her ears.

I can’t wait to tell Yato!

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, societal norms dictated that Hiyori phone her parents first, which she did. Both of them were working, but they both screamed in triumph when Hiyori delivered the good news. They laughed, they cried, they gushed about Hiyori’s new possibilities, and Hiyori basked in the warm glow of their pride. However, the world did not stop turning even for such a celebratory cause, and so Hiyori eventually had to bid them adieu. That was all right, though; they would have a proper party once they returned home from work, and this gave Hiyori plenty of time to spread the news to the other important people in her life.

Kofuku was sitting on the porch of her little shop when Hiyori came running up, cheeks pink from breathlessness. The goddess cocked her head to the side as the girl approached in such a tizzy, and then her gaze dropped to the opened letter flapping around in her hand.

“Ahh! Hiyori, is it today?” the girl cried and jumped up while putting her hands together in delight. “Oh, oh, you probably want to tell Yato first—he’s in the back! Yukiné went down the street to get some bubble teas, so I’ll let him know as soon as he’s back to come see you! Now hurry, hurry! Daikoku and I want to hear, too!”

“Thanks, Kofuku!” Hiyori grinned as she skirted around the porch, leaving the goddess to impatiently squirm while she trotted around the back of the small convenience store. She rounded the back of the building to the small yard behind, and she found Yato lazing about among the roots of a tree, eyes closed and hands resting behind his head.

“Yato, Yato!” she cried, and he cracked a cyan eye open at the sound of her voice. She came bounding up to him, eyes sparkling. However, her legs finally gave out from all the frantic running, and so she collapsed on her knees at his side. “Oof…”

‘“Did you run all the way here?” he chuckled as he sat up. Hiyori nodded with a mournful croon and rubbed her burning calves, prompting Yato to laugh. “Silly Hiyori, I know you love to see me, but—” he stopped his flirty joke when he caught sight of the letter in her lap. “... Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes!” Hiyori squeezed out between gulps of air. She tossed her head up, flipping her disarrayed hair out of her face, and held up the letter proudly. “I was accepted to Tokyo University! I’m going to be a doctor, Yato!”

It seemed to take him a moment to register the news. He blinked slowly, staring at the letter with a blank expression. Hiyori tilted her head to the side in confusion; wasn’t he happy for her? Just as she was about to inquire, his expression softened and he reached up to pat Hiyori’s head affectionately.

“I knew you could do it, Hiyori. Congratulations,” he said with a sweet smile. Hiyori giggled as he ruffled her already wind-swept hair; his hand felt good, tousling the strands and running across her scalp. She enjoyed it for a second, then opened her eyes. Yato couldn’t wipe the sadness from his expression before Hiyori noticed it. He knew she saw, too, as he blushed and dropped his gaze to the grassy ground. His hand stayed atop her head, and Hiyori reached up to grab it while staring at him in confusion.

“Yato… What is it?”

He chewed on his lip while he debated answering. Hiyori lowered his hand to hold it in front of her chest, squeezing it with both of hers. Finally, his eyes flickered up to meet hers, and she was taken aback by how guilty and miserable he looked.

“I shouldn’t… It’s selfish of me.”

“Well, you can be a little selfish, Yato. I don’t mind.”

A smile tugged at his lips, and he looked at her with amused hopelessness. I can’t resist when you say it like that, his expression said, and it made Hiyori’s heart thump in her chest.

“I guess… It’s just finally hitting me that you’ll be leaving me, Hiyori.”

“Huh? Who said I was leaving?” Hiyori blinked. Yato made a choking sound and reared back a little, obviously surprised by her blatant rebuttal. Hiyori smiled, pulling his hand to rest over her heart. “Yato, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Even if I’m going off to college, that doesn’t mean that we can’t be together anymore!”

“You mean… You see me in your future, Hiyori?”

Hiyori opened her eyes at that, a blush painting her cheeks. Yato was leaning forward now, his expression intense. Those cyan eyes burned with something unlike she’d ever seen, and it sent electricity buzzing through her nerves. Though she had the urge to run and hide, embarrassed by what was happening, she also wanted nothing more than to see where this would go. Squirming, she managed a little nod.

“O-of course, Yato…”

Of course, Yato was never surprised for long. That cocksure smirk spread over his lips, and as he leaned in a little further, a mischievous twinkle began to gleam in his bright blueish eyes.

“Oh? What do you think about?”

“I-I think about… You being there when I graduate…” she admitted. Oh, but that wasn’t all, and Yato knew it, too. It was like that roguish stare of his was magic, and it was pulling out all her deepest, darkest secrets with effortless ease. “I, um… I think about… U-us dating, and um… Getting married… And… Maybe… Having children…”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller with each damning admission until she was shrinking into herself and whispering meekly. She hid her face behind his hand, which she was still holding like a treasure, while she looked at him with uncertain eyes. Yato just kept that same stupid smirk on his face the entire time, given no indication of how he felt about it. Anxiety began to roil in her belly. What if he would laugh at her? What if he didn’t feel the same? Yato was a trickster, but he wouldn’t be this mean, would he?

No. Not my Yato.

“I’m relieved,” Yato said, and suddenly his expression was melting. He scooted a little closer to her, and his free hand pushed into the grass by her waist as he angled his body over hers until she was looking up into his face. He freed his other hand from her grip so he could caress her face—tracing a path down her cheek to her chin until his thumb traced the border of her lips. “I think about those things, too, Hiyori. I didn’t want them to be just thoughts.”

“Yato… Are you saying…?” she asked quietly, but her voice failed her. She just looked at him pleadingly, and Yato’s smile somehow got impossibly softer even though it already felt like Hiyori was beginning to float in the clouds.

“I’m saying that I love you, Hiyori, and I want to be a part of your future if you’ll let me,” Yato said.

Hiyori sucked in a breath, and suddenly the tears came flooding back. She couldn’t stop them; she was so overwhelmed with happiness and relief and all the emotions in between. All she could do was nod emphatically. Yato chuckled gently, using his hand to thumb her tears away until she managed to quiet down into little sniffles. As she blinked repeatedly, trying to dislodge the little salty droplets still clinging to her lashes, she didn’t notice Yato’s face closing in.

His lips met hers, and the first thing that struck her was how soft his lips were. They were like silk, perfect against her own. Hiyori melted into him, eyes fluttering as she savored the meeting of their mouths and everything that meant.

They pulled apart, but only by a few centimeters. They stared into each other’s eyes, and Yato began to caress her cheek again. I could get used to this…

“Hiyoriiiiiiii!” came a sudden wail, and the two of them sprang apart like they’d been struck. They hurried to find a position that made it look like they weren’t just kissing. Yato lounged back against the tree, while Hiyori sat on her knees an acceptable distance away while she played with one of her pigtails. Yukiné came bounded around the side of the building, looking panicked.

“Hiyori! Don’t go!” the boy wailed and flung himself across the yard. Hiyori exclaimed as he belly-flopped onto the ground next to her and planted his face write into her lap. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist as if he could keep her there through force alone. Hiyori chuckled and rested a hand on his back, and he looked up at her petulantly.

“Yukiné, I’m not going anywhere,” Hiyori chuckled. “I’ll still be around!”

“Promise?”

“Promise!” Hiyori reassured. Yukiné smiled and sagged into her, thoroughly relieved.

“Oi! Who do you think you are, hogging Hiyori?” Yato whined. Hiyori exclaimed as Yato draped himself over her shoulders, arms dangling down by her sides and chin propped in the crook of her neck.

“Ah! Are we doing group hugs?” they heard Kofuku yell, and they looked up just in time to see her sailing through the air. They all screamed when Kofuku crashed into them, sending Yato and Hiyori onto their backs. As they dog-piled at the base of the tree, they couldn’t help but burst into giggles. Hiyori wiggled her arm until she could pull out the acceptance letter, and her expression brightened.

I’ve got a great future ahead of me… And I’m glad everyone is going to be in it!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#yatori #yato #hiyori iki #iki hiyori #noragami

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chincilla-on-the-moon · 3 years

Text

“I like you too idiot.”- Connor Murphy X Reader

Request: can u do a connor x reader where reader is being pretty annoyed with Jared on the first day (like when he calls him a school shooter) and he steps in and defends her leading timo a nice friendship and a love confession from Connor at the end? I’m sending love, and if u can’t it is really ok, everyone’s mental health is important, pls don’t feel overwhelmed 💕✨🦋- Anon

Word Count: 2,542

Warnings: A couple swears and Jared Klienman being a dick. (also Connor is probs written ooc but whatever)

Authors note: Hi everyone! First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who requested something! I am trying to work on them but I recently fell into a really bad place mentally but I’m working on making it better. I hope to have the other requests out soon but please be patient with me. Also anon I used they/them pronouns for the reader as those are my pronouns and I want to make sure everyone can I enjoy my writing regardless of gender so I hope that okay. As always thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day/night! :) <3 (Also any feedback is very appreciated. )

First day of senior year. To say you weren’t excited would be the understatement of the century. Sure you were excited to finally get out of your hometown but you had to get through the school year first and if the previous years were any indication of how this year was going to go, well lets just say it's going to be a long year.

You pulled into the student parking lot in your shitty car and saw there were a couple extra minutes before you actually had to be in the building, With that in mind you decided to just put your head down on the steering wheel for a few minutes to prepare yourself for the day ahead.

That peace was short lived though because not even 30 seconds later did a dark truck pulled up next to you. Before the car could even come to a stop Zoe Murphy flew out of the passenger seat. She flipped off the driver, who you presumed was her brother Connor, and slammed the door before storming off into the school. “Jesus” you mutter to yourself. Then another door slammed and Connor Murphy appeared in front of the truck, talking and gesturing wildly to himself. You could only make out bits and pieces of what the boy was saying before he went into the school like his sister. You heard him say something about his mom and his bitch sister and not even wanting to be there. Well at least you weren't alone in the feeling. Following the Murphy siblings you begrudgingly went into the building. The friendly secretary greated you and handed you your schedule which had your locker number on it. After searching for a few minutes you found it and just as you were starting to put things in your locker you heard his voice, Jared Klienman. He was talking to Evan Hansen and you prayed to whatever higher being that could hear you that he would leave you alone. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t L/N.” You could practically hear the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face. You were about to turn around and tell him to go away but before you could someone comes between the two of you blocking Jared from your view.

“Fuck off Klienman” says the last person you expected, Connor Murphy.

“Woah calm down Murphy, I’m just trying to have a conversation with Y/N here” Jared says starting to back up and putting his arms up as a way of showing his surrender.

“Well they obviously don’t want to talk to you. Now get out of here before I punch that stupid smirk off your dumb face,” Connor says squaring off his shoulders in an attempt to look even more intimidating than usual. It worked quite well because Jared was practically running off but not before making a dig at Connor.

“Yeah whatever you fucking freak.”

You saw Connor’s shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists. You didn’t know what to do but figured it would be best to leave the boy alone, so you just fidgeted with your hands. He took a deep breath then turned to face you.

“Uhm thanks for that. You really didn’t have to,” you say avoiding eye contact with him, which was quite easy considering how tall he was compared to you.

“No problem, I know how much of a dick Klienman can be.”

“Yeah he’s the worst,” you say scoffing lightly. Then the bell signaling you were supposed to be in homeroom rang.“See you around Connor. Thanks again,” you say before turning to shut your locker and rush to class.

“Yeah see you around,” Connor says to no one because you were already down the hall.

The rest of the day wasn’t much better, nothing happened in particular but it just still wasn’t the best. After what felt like an eternity it was finally the last bell of the day, creative writing. You weren’t particularly interested in writing but you had a bell to fill so you figured why not. When you walked in you did a scan of the room and saw Connor, he had an empty seat next to him at the back of the room so you decided to sit it in. “Hey,” you say, startling the boy who was previously staring into space.

“Oh hey.”

“Thanks again for this morning, I really appreciate it dude,” you say making eye contact with Connor so he would know you actually meant what you were saying.

“Oh yeah, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving you a small smile. You smiled back just as your teacher walked in which caused the conversation to end.

“Good afternoon class! I hope all of your days have been tolerable,” says your teacher Mr. Davidson. He was a younger man in his early 30’s which meant everyone liked him including you. “Instead of doing an ice breaker where you all lie about how interesting your summers were I want you to get to actually get to know someone in this class a little better,” he says from behind his podium at the front of the class. You were starting to panic a little, who were you going to partner up with? None of your kind of friends were in this class! Then Connor cleared his throat grabbing your attention.

“Hey Y/N, wanna be partners?” The nervous energy was practically radiating off the boy. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sure Connor.” The two of you then got up and turned your desks to face each other like the other pairs were doing. “So Murphy what’s your deepest darkest secret?” you say, smirking.

“Woah L/N, not even going to ask me my favorite color or anything?” he says chuckling.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you say playfully rolling your eyes. “What’s your favorite color Connor?”

“Dark green. What about you L/N? What's your favorite color?”

“Y/F/C,” you say. “It’s been my favorite since I was younger,” you say shrugging.

“I respect that. It’s a good color.”

“Yeah whatever, now can I hear your deepest secret?”, you say almost like a child.

“Wow you’re still on this?”, he says with amusement evident in his tone.

“Yeah I am!” you say in a mock seriousness. “Mr. Davidson says we are supposed to actually get to know each other and that’s what I’m trying to do Murphy!”

“You’re absolutely right Y/N,” he says suddenly very serious.

“Okay fine I’ll tell you but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone.

“Not a soul,” you say staring at him intently and sitting at the edge of your seat.

“Well, here goes nothing.” He made eye contact and it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “I’m pregnant.”

You maintained eye contact until you actually processed what he said, then the two of you started laughing which caused the rest of the class to turn and look at you but for once you didn’t even care because you were actually happy for the first time in what felt like forever.

The rest of the class went by faster than you or Connor wanted it to, but the two of you walked out to the student parking lot together and paused when you reached your cars. “Uh see you tomorrow I guess,” you say but it comes out as more of a question.

“Yeah see you tomorrow Y/N”, Connor says very confidently which surprised you both. You waved as a final goodbye and got into your cars. As you were driving home you thought about all the awful things you heard about Connor in the past and how untrue they were. Sure he was intimidating at first glance but he’s six feet tall for goodness sake who wouldn’t be intimidated by that. You could tell from the short class period you spent getting to know him that he was simply misunderstood. Suddenly you were glad you never listened to what all the popular kids said about Connor.

As the school year went on you and Connor developed a sort of unspoken ritual, you would wait for Connor to get to school then you two would walk to homeroom together and then walk to your cars when the school day was over. The two of you became good friends and you found yourself actually looking forward to waking up in the morning so you could see him. The pair of you had hung out outside of school a few times and you had actually met Connor’s mom, granted it was an accident but it still happened.

You and Connor decided to hang out at his house because his family wasn’t home that afternoon, the two of you were lounging on the couch watching some weird movie when you heard the front door open. “Connor dear? Is that you in there?” Suddenly an middle aged woman with red hair appeared with reusable grocery bags in her hands.

“Mom?!” Connor jumped up from the couch in a panic. “I thought you had yoga today?!”

“Class was canceled because Cindy wasn’t feeling well. Oh I stopped by the store and got those snacks you asked for!” she said coming into the living room box in hand. “Oh? Connor, who's your friend?” she said with a small smile appearing on her lips.

“Hi Mrs. Murphy. I’m Y/N,” you said nervously.

“Oh call me Cynthia dear,” she said, shooting you a smile.

After that Cynthia invited you to stay for dinner but you already had plans with your parents that night. She invited you a couple times after that as well. You never actually went cause Connor didn’t want you to but still it was nice to know she liked you enough to invite you to dinner.

As fall came to a close the two of you became attached at the hip, constantly talking to one another whether it was in person or through the phone. Once the holiday season rolled around you guys got each other gifts. You got Connor a signed book from his favorite author and he got you a vinyl you had been wanting for a while.

Once the holiday break was over the end of the first semester came quickly and you couldn’t wait to finally be done with your half year courses and start the new ones. Unfortunately you had to take finals before you could be done. Although you only had two finals you were still extremely stressed out. Sure they were easy classes but the teachers were notorious for giving impossible finals. You spent the few days before the finals studying whenever there was a free moment. Connor knew you were stressed so he helped you the best he could. He offered to have study sessions even though none of his classes had finals, he went over quizlets on video calls, and he even brought you a drink with way too much caffeine on the mornings he knew you didn’t sleep.

Once the day arrived he texted you good luck. You went into the first test and totally nailed it. Before the next testing time there was a break and when you checked your phone you saw Connor had texted you telling you how proud he was of you for studying so hard and reassuring you that you had these exams in the bag. You sent him a quick “thank you :))” and went into the testing room for the second time. This exam was a little harder than the last but you still thought you did decent. There were a couple times where Connor and his stupid mneumonic devices actually came in handy. Letting out a giant breath of relief as you stepped out of the testing room you couldn’t wait to tell Connor about how much he helped. When you reached your locker and got your phone out of it you saw Connor had asked if you wanted to hang out when you were done. Obviously you said yes and told him to pick you up at your house in 15. You drove home and changed out of your testing outfit which was just sweatpants and a hoodie and put on something a little more presentable. Sure you were just going to hang out with your best friend but he also is the boy you’ve been pining over for months. You’ve always found Connor attractive and when he put dickhead Klienman in his place that made him all the more hot. But then you really got to know him and you fell. Hard. He was sweet, caring, smart, and funny. Sure he had his moments but so did everyone on the planet. He had actually opened up to you about his struggles with his mental health and you did everything you could to support him. You encouraged him to ask his parents for therapy, and always made sure he took his meds in the morning. You were there for him and he was always there for you.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the horn of Connor’s truck outside your house. You rushed outside and got into the passenger seat, “So where to Murphy?”

“I was thinking we could get some food and just chill in a parking lot somewhere. Sound cool?”

“Definitely. I’ve missed hanging out with you. Stupid finals,” you say with a dramatic eye roll.

“Yeah I’ve missed hanging out with you too dork,” he says reaching over the center console and ruffling your hair.

“Connor Murphy! I just brushed my hair and here you go messing it up!” you say while trying to fix your now disbelieved hair.

“Whatever L/N. It still looks fine to me.” Although it was barely a compliment, heat still rushed to your cheeks. He pulled out of your driveway and the two of you were off. On the way to get food you guys caught up talking about everything you missed in the world of Connor because you were too focused on finals. He told you he finished a TV show you recommend and loved it. You made it to the drive through and Connor ordered, already knowing what you wanted from your many midnight outings. Once you got your food you made your way to the plaza parking lot where the restaurant was located. For the first couple minutes the two of you sat in a comfortable silence listening to the playlist Connor had made for this type of occasion. After a few minutes Connor suddenly spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Connor dearest you know you can tell me anything,” you say with a french fry in your mouth, not even bothering to look at him.

“I like you.” You choked on the fry you had in your mouth.

“Pardon?” you say through a cough.

“I said I like you,” he says, a little less sure of himself. When you looked over at Connor you saw he was staring straight ahead.

“Hey Connor.”

“Mhm,” he says, not daring to move.

“Look at me.” He just barely turned his head towards you. “I like you too idiot.”

#connor murphy #Connor Murphy x Reader #connor murphy fanfiction #connor murphy x you #connor murphy fanfic #x reader #Broadway #dear evan hansen #Cynthia Murphy #zoe murphy #jared klienman #evan hansen #dear evan hansen fanfic #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen x you #broadway x reader #broadway fanfic #Character x Reader

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himitsukki · 4 years

Text

𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙞 // 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

warning: unedited <333 plith ignore if u see any plot holes, this has been sitting on my drafts for a couple of weeks </3

wc: 2,453

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“hitoka-chan! someone’s looking for you.“

surprised at the news of someone looking for their shy younger manager, the team collectively move their heads to look at the gym’s sliding doors and see a female student taking off her shoes just outside of it. one of her hands rests against the doorframe bent slightly at the elbows to stabilise her body as the other picks up her shoes by the back of it.

you step into the gym with only socks on, moving quickly to bow at the team members and approach the new manager.

in the middle of the duo’s spiking practice, hinata and kageyama both stop and turn at the sound of your voice. the familiar sound of their usual bickers and running, jumping and whatnot go mute, and slowly, the normally loud and slightly deafening volume of karasuno high school’s second gymnasium goes quiet.

“are you guys okay?“ daichi asks as he approaches the first year duo. ”why’d you two stop?“ the captain didn’t get an answer from them; instead, they continued to stare at the guest by the front portion of the gym.

“is this...“ hinata murmurs, blinking every couple of seconds, his face is unmoving and stock-still. “...my chance?“

what? chance? daichi wonders. what chance is there for—

before his mind finishes the thought, hinata dashes towards the guest, and kageyama follows suit right after, sharing the same braincell thought with his partner. they both bow deeply and introduce themselves loudly before you.

“i’m hinata shouyou!“

“kageyama tobio!“

“please tutor us!“

ahh, must be an honor student. the team, who are all now just standing still, looks over to see what the commotion is about; they can’t hear the conversation from the other side of the gym, but they see you wave your hands in a rapid dismissive manner, most likely overwhelmed with the sudden appearance (and, quite frankly, the sheer aura) of these two.

“i’m tutoring a few students at the moment so i can’t right now, i’m sorry.“ hinata’s and kageyama’s shoulders droop dramatically, their disappointment clear to anybody with how the air around them seemingly became cold and depressing. “but... i’m free during breaks, so feel free to visit! oh, and i can give you copies of my reviewers for the upcoming exam!”

the two first years bowed deeper and thanked you profusely, sending you to another wave of overwhelmingness. the rest of the team, still in the same spots as they were before, only look at the scene with mixed reactions, staring in silence as they watch you try to make hinata and kageyama lift up their heads.

“i think i’ve heard of her,” tanaka suddenly speaks up. the team turns to look at him. ”someone was talking about this really kind and angel-like first year, gives away reviewers, tutors other people, helps out with others’ homeworks, stuff like that. no one mentioned that she’s really pretty, though.”

“ryu!“ nishinoya shouts suddenly. “we can only focus on kiyoko-san!“

“but they’re different!“ tanaka argues. “kiyoko-san is cool and beautiful! obviously, we’ll follow her forever!”

daichi steps up to forcibly make hinata and kageyama stand up straight, apologizing for their actions as their captain.

“it’s fine,“ you laugh slightly, bowing your head and thanking him for his hard work. “i’m hitoka-chan’s classmate! i’m here to return something to her, actually.“

“[name]-san!“ yamaguchi greets you as he jogs towards you, a smile on his face and his hand already up in the air in the form of a wave. he comes closer, and you jump up to reach his hand to high five it before he tries to heighten it further up where you can’t reach it anymore.

“i touched it!”

“i felt nothing, though~“

“yama-kun, that’s a lie!“

t.. they know each other? once again, the team is in a state of shock and silence as they see another usually shy teammate act differently. it’s rare to see yamaguchi being the initiator in teasing someone (as he’s always with tsukishima), much less being so... vocal and energetic and expressive.

“that makes it my third win this week!“

“sure thing, [name]-san~“

“say,“ asahi mumurs onto the rest of the team who never left their places. “is she... y’know... maybe... yamaguc—“

“oi,“ tanaka interrupts the small group of gossipers as he clamps a hand down sugawara’s shoulder, shaking it back and forth while keeping his eyes on the scene up front. “even tsukishima knows her, damn it!“

immediately, everyone looks back to see the most unlikely member of the team taking to someone else without glare on his face, not even a hint of irritation. in fact, whatever he says has you and yamaguchi giggling, while hinata and kageyama puff up with flames of petty anger.

well, daichi thinks to himself as he overhears tsukishima mock the other firstyear duo for begging you to tutor them in front of everyone else. guess we learn something new everyday.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

you return a week later to the male volleyball club’s gym with a paper bag on one hand and a large plastic bag on the other.

“she told me to give this to you,“ the team overhears your conversation as you approach the tall blonde. “it’s strawberry shortcake, of course.“

damn, tsukishima has girls giving him gifts already? they collectively curse at him inside. lucky bastard...!

“ah— i’d like to give these for everyone!“ with an obvious perk of their ears, everyone gathers around you as you open the large, white plastic bag: it’s filled with various snacks and drinks, most likely bought from a nearby convenience store outside the school, which meant you walked out of the school premises, bought everything in this bag, then walked back to the campus just to give these for everyone.

an angel... she’s literally an angel!

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!“ hinata, kageyama, nishinoya and tanaka shout in happiness, grabbing their favorite snacks and drinks (yoghurt for kageyama and melonpan for tanaka, of couse) with twinkles in their eyes and a dust of pink on their cheeks.

“you didn’t have to buy these for us,“ daichi steps up and accepts the bag with a small bow.

“it’s fine, captain! thank you for working hard!“

daichi announces a break for everyone, telling them to grab a snack or a drink of their choice before passing the bag to the next person. in a matter of seconds, everyone’s seated on the floor, enjoying the snacks or drinks you bought for them.

tsukishima, the only other person still standing besides yachi and kiyoko, converses with you just a few feet away from the group, but they’re all busy eating or drinking. the two female managers, though, listen in with a knowing look and the smallest smirk on their lips.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

you return, one again, a week later. but instead of dropping by while they were in the middle of training, you opened the doors and greeted everyone with the dark sky of the night behind you.

“ah [lastname]-san! what are you doing so late?“ sugawara steps in as the vice captain, daichi being away to talk with their coach and club advisor about the upcoming training camp in tokyo.

“i’m waiting for—“

“we’re holding a study session later at my house,“ tsukishima speaks up right behind the grey haired third year, walking up to you after to say something before returning back to the court.

e..eh? did i hear that correctly? it’s almost past 7pm though...

“[lastname]-san!“ hinata and kageyama approach you with a slight jog, passing their frozen vice captain by the side. “thanks for the notes you gave us yesterday, it really helped make me understand the topic better!“

“thank you for tutoring us yesterday, even though it was a break time and you were probably busy and had other people needing your help and—“

“i told you, i’m happy to help, kageyama-kun!“

ah, right. she’s just an angel doing her angel duties, sugawara sighs, his mind now clear and grounded. there’s no way someone like tsukishima would be in a relationship with an angel like her...

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

...right?

the team, currently on their break, discusses about the possible reasons why you’ve been visiting them weekly for the past two months. you’ve never spoken up about it specifically, and there’s nothing really obvious that the team can focus on to hypothesize about the question at hand.

ennoshita, having observed the times you’ve visited them and how you interact with the team, explained his insights on the situation.

first, none of the second or third years have spoken up about having a significant other, nor has any of them heard or knew you before you first visited them, so clearly, they’re out of the picture,

second, your first visit was because you had to return something to yachi, but only yamaguchi and tsukishima had talked to you freely as a friend would.

third, you once gave something to tsukishima, most probably a gift from one of her friends who liked him, and gave her gift through you. which means...

“i had a feeling yamaguchi was really close to her,“ asahi’s eyes light up in understanding. “it’s rare to see him be so talkative and cheerful.“

“no, but the air around them doesn’t seem like it,“ tanaka contributes to the discussion. “[name]-chan has this really light and air aura around her, you can really feel how angelic she is! it seems like there’s just a playful, friendly aura when she’s with yamaguchi.“

“that’s... a really detailed, creepy description, baldy,“ kinoshita strikes an arrow into tanaka’s body.

“first name basis? without asking her? invasion of privacy,“ asahi shivers.

“no wonder kiyoko-san keeps ignoring you.” narita finishes the blow.

“i did not— [name]-chan gave me permission!“ (”yeah, after scaring her into accepting it.” “stop being so brave for nothing, oi!”)

“it still seems off if tsukishima’s the reason,“ nishinoya pouts. ”our angel [name]-chan wouldn’t settle for a guy like tsukishima!”

“i agree!“

“yeah, she’s too kind for that!”

with collective nods and hums of agreement, the team returns to their training, the summer training camps they had in tokyo and saitama still fresh in their minds despite a few weeks having passed by since. summer had just ended, and the second term for the current academic year has barely started, so they haven’t seen you since the last time you visit them before the month long break.

night approaches, and the day ends for the karasuno male volleyball club without your prescence. eager to go home, they quickly changed and walked to sakanoshita market for their usual pork buns.

“a.. [name]-chan?!”

with a turn of your head, you greet the team with a smile and a small bow. “i figured you’d come here after training, so i went and bought you guys some pork buns before the get sold out.”

with a dramatic cry, hinata, tanaka and nishinoya fall to their knees and clasped their hands together as they thanked you profusely. after telling them that you had the worker keep the buns steamer to keep them warm, they immediately went to the counter; ukai, with impeccable timing, just entered from the back and immediately scolded them for being loud.

amidst the chaos, however, one person steps in and swiftly starts pulling you towards the exit.

“let’s go,“ tsukishima mumbles, his large hands easily caging your wrist in his grasp. “before the idiots notice—“

“tsukishima, what are you doing?!“

“how dare you steal our [name]-chan away from us!“

“give me a break,“ you hear him complain under his breath with a sigh. you giggle in response but try to hide your hands from the group, remembering that tsukishima had wanted to keep your relationship lowkey as much as possible. especially from the volleyball idiots, you remember him emphasizing.

“sorry, but we have a project to discuss! yama-kun, let’s go!“ with a last wave goodbye, the three of you escape the team and disappear from their sights.

as the team walks home while enjoying their warm pork buns, tanaka stops to a halt as he realizes something. “isn’t [name]-chan classmates with yachi and not those two...?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“were you able to study?“

“yeah, thanks for the jacket! library’s freezing, as always.“

the team eyes the two of you from the other side of the gym, suspicious and doubtful of their thoughts due to tanaka’s insightful realization last time. it doesn’t really seem like they’re in a relationship, right? they ask each other through knowing glints of eye contact. there’s no way they’re—

“oh, i heard from this guy that you’ll have the spring high tournament soon!“

“tsukishima got demoted to ‘this guy’, pfft.“

“pfft, ‘this guy’,“ hinata bursts out loud. “tsukishima doesn’t even get called by his name—“

yeah, there’s no way.

for the first time since you started visiting them three months ago, however, you stayed inside to watch the team train for the said competition with permission from daichi and the two adults beside door.

it’s a change of pace from you and a change of scenery from the team: they’re not used to anyone who’s not a part of their club to watch them, nor did they ever expect that it’d be you, of all people.

“[name]-chan,“ tanaka jogs up to you when their practice officially ended and the time to clean and tidy up the gym has started. “are you waiting for tsukishima and yamaguchi again? to talk about your, uhm, project?“

“no, i’m just waiting for kei.“

“k-kei?“

“yes?“ tanaka turns around to see tsukishima standing behind him, his hands on his hips and bored look on his face, but if you look closely, you’ll notice a hint of mischief in his golden eyes and the slightest smirk on his lips. “do you need something, tanaka-san?“

“you’re kei? i thought your name was hotaru!“

“nope, it’s read as kei.“

“i thought you were over having people guess your name for you!“

“i’m too tired to put up with people asking how to read it.“

tanaka, in the middle of your bickering, can feel his brain explode and his heart shatter slightly. i can’t believe it. fuck you, tuskishima. nishinoya, noticing his best friend’s frozen form in between you and tsukishima, jogs up to tanaka with slight concern.

“it’s true.” it’s the only think he can say before numbly looking at the two of you still bickering.

“maybe i’ll call you hotaru instead of kei then—“ (”k-kei? who?”)

“fine, i’ll stop.“ (”him?!”)

“good. you’re no longer a middle schooler, loser.“

“with your height, you’re the middle schooler here.“

fuck you, tsukishima.

“rude!“

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

m.list

262 notes · View notes

tr-ashbin · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 || 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫!𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕖 : one-shot

𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 : slight angst if u squint (update theres no angst i just didnt know what to put here)

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤 : soft boy kenma streaming on twitch for money, but doesn't want to be a soft boy anymore, he wants to be yours. definitely not based off wilbur's unreleased song—

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 : kinda sugar daddy/mommy/glucose guardian y/n (aka capitalist y/n), mentions of ahegao, cringe

kenma was streaming, again.

he was in his 3rd year of highschool and was in short of money, thus he began streaming as a past time with the support of his volleyball teammates and his few friends.

one of them being y/n, who was born in a rich family and is one of his top subscribers and donors.

you'd be thinking, if kenma needed money that much, why couldn't he just ask y/n for it?

tuition isn't that cheap, and he didn't want to be in debt with y/n's family once he was much older.

despite y/n's constant offers, he still said no, and started off his twitch career earlier than intended.

don't get him wrong, it was his dream to make it big on twitch.

.. just not this way.

he figured that being one of those "soft boys" who do certain things for his viewers for money would get him some cash— and quite surprisingly, it worked.

it wasn't his first choice, obviously. he didn't want to be seen as your typical uwu soft boi.

but unfortunately, that's the only way to get money sometimes. it even helped that he had longer hair than most boys because some of his viewers mistook him to be a girl.

"ah, thank you liz for the twenty-five gifted subs."

he said in a quite monotone voice.

kenma was happy, he was getting more money obviously.

he was just tired of it already. he wanted to do something else for a change, but he knew he probably wouldn't get anything out of it.

as the stream went on, he proceeded to do some mail unboxing videos since he had received some while on stream. why not show the viewers? they might multiply if he did.

not only that, but a certain someone decided to call him while in the middle of it.

"oh..? hey, y/n, what's up?"

the stream chat instantly knew that the y/n on call was the same y/n who donated the most money and gifted the most subs to him.

"hey, kenma." y/n said, "have you opened my gift yet? i sent it through the p.o. box."

".. you're watching my stream?"

"of course i'm watching your stream, how else am i supposed to give you money if you wouldn't take it any other way?"

they were right, kenma wouldn't accept money unless donated to him through his streams.

kenma put y/n on speaker, and placed his phone near enough to the mic so they could be heard.

"say hi to the stream, y/n."

"heyoo!"

the chat knew y/n for their many donos and subs. and when you say many, it's many.

ask any of kenma's average of 2.4k viewers, at least every one of them was gifted a tier 1 sub by glucose guardian y/n.

now aside from that, kenma and y/n talked while he opened the gifts he'd receive from fans, figuiring that he'd open the one from y/n last (mostly becaude they told him to).

kenma received a lot of things. things his viewers would want him to wear on stream, decorations for his room, some even sent him cash through mail along with a personal message.

eventually, they had reached y/n's gift, which kenma reluctantly opened.

his eyes widened at the sight, taking his time to process what he had just received, and then deadpanning at the camera.

y/n felt the chills go through the screen, but just laughed it off.

"you like your gift, kenma?"

".. it's a fucking ahegao hoodie."

"it's a work of art!"

"oh my god.."

kenma rolled his eyes at the camera and looked away, putting the hoodie where the stream couldn't see. he wouldn't want to get banned from twitch now, would he?

while doing that, he noticed something else in the box, under where the hoodie was placed.

"are these.."

"wear them, kenma."

"i'm not wearing the cat ears—"

suddenly, a donation appeared on screen.

from y/n.

"y/n donated $100! wear the cat ears, kenma." said the text to speech.

"what the fuck, you donated too? how much money do you even have, y/n?"

"not important, now wear the cat ears, please."

kenma sighed and wore the cat ears.

"happy?"

"kinda, but go off."

he removed the cat ears, then placed them somewhere near the hoodie.

"well, i guess that's the end for today's stream everyone. thanks for all the donos and subs, say bye to the stream y/n."

"byebye!"

"the broadcast you were watching has ended." message was displayed on y/n's monitor.

the call hadn't ended yet, though.

"why are you so nice, y/n?"

the sudden question shook them up.

".. what? i'm nice?" y/n chuckled, not knowing whether they should take it as a compliment or not.

"to me, you are."

"wow, thanks."

"but, really, don't you have better things to spend all that money on?"

"nah, not really. besides, you need the money, don't you?"

"i do, but–"

"then i don't see a problem with giving you so much money."

kenma paused, genuinely not knowing how to take that. was it romantic? platonic? was it really just y/n being nice?

he didn't know, he really didn't.

the next few days were the same for kenma.

wake up, go to school, practice, go home, stream, then sleep.

kenma's thoughts, unlike his routine, were messy as hell.

spiraling around his place as vice-captain, then his twitch career, then his studies.

again, messy as hell.

but what really shook him was y/n. still confused as to how they were so generous despite only getting closer when kenma had started his twitch channel.

did y/n only support him just for the satisfaction of seeing him looking really feminine? or did they really want to support him financially because he refused help from them before? he clearly couldn't tell.

what he could tell, was that he didn't like his current situation.

the money and fame, it was nice, but he knew that wasn't what he wanted to be known for.

being some random soft boy who would do anything for some cash? not really a good image to his name.

if he had to be honest, the only reason he continued to be one was because of them, y/n.

though he didn't know why.

a month had past, kenma's streams had become less frequent as he and y/n have been meeting up during his designated time for streaming.

what was once daily 7pm sessions of kenma doing soft boy shit in front of the camera for around 2.8k viewers for an hour straight became y/n treating him to after practice arcade hangouts.

fortunately enough, he enjoyed them. being content with the quality time he was spending with y/n alone, and not on his twitch livestream with thousands of strangers watching.

not ever missing a day without spending at least half an hour with them, kenma had stopped streaming.

figuring that he had collected enough money for him to live on a side job while he studies, one where he could take breaks and talk to y/n without worrying much about anything else.

he was happy. he finally knew what he wanted.

he didn't want to be a soft boy anymore, he wanted to be theirs.

a/n: hi hi hello writing tips would very much be appreciated for ash here does not know how to end stories properly 😄

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pinoyrella · 3 years

Text

“A Love So Beautiful” Chapter 8

Chapter 8: “Happy Birthday!”

FT: Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Yachi Hitoka + Y/n’s Parents + Coach Ukai + Takeda-Sensei

TW: Mild Language

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Coming of Age + Slow Burn

- Fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff! And angst/drama :00000 in this chapter!

WORD COUNT: 9,000+

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

A/N: hiii hiii 💖!! happy one month anniversary for the start of this series 🎉! i think it was feb 15 when i posted it, and now its march 15!!! time rlly flies so fast omg, we’re already 8 chapters in :,000

- i also had so much fun researching about Miyagi’s Museum of Art for this chapter! i hope to go someday!!

- AGSKJ OKAY OKAY- anyways i hope you enjoy i love you!!! 🥺💞

“I can’t believe we had another quiz today!” You whine, a single hand gripped onto the strap of your bag, as the other hangs loosely. You walk in front of Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, heading towards the school gates.

“It wasn’t even that hard” Tsukishima says bluntly, keeping his eyes focused on the pavement.

“Easy for you to say! Tell me Tsukki, what’s the lowest grade you’ve ever received?” You hault, turning abruptly to face the blonde male.

He looks down at you before smirking. “My lowest?” Yamaguchi lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the company of his two best friends.

“My point exactly! Mr. Smarty-pants, you have no say in what is hard or not!” You bring your arms up, crossing them as you begin your pace. “I’m just glad we have Friday off, and the entire of next week! Thank god for break.” You sigh as the three of you make it to the school gates, you turn to your two friends before bidding a farewell.

“Here’s my stop, thanks again for walking me out, now go hit some volleyballs! Hurry, you guys are going to be late!” You wave, making your way down the pavement towards the bike racks.

As you turn the corner, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima set foot, making their way to the gym for volleyball practice.

“Ah! Tsukki” Yamaguchi calls to his friend. “Y/n’s birthday is coming soon, do you have any plans?” He asks. The blonde takes a moment to think before replying, “Mmm… not really”. “Huh?” Yamaguchi hops in front of his friend, stopping him in his tracks. “What do you mean not really?” “Not really as in, I don’t really have anything big planned.” Tsukishima says, as he moves past his friend towards the gym.

Yamaguchi lets out a sigh before following. The two continuing their pace to the gym, only to find Takeda-sensei as they round the corner.

“Oh, Sensei!” Yamaguchi greets, rushing over with Tsukishima. “Yamaguchi-kun, Tsukishima-kun, just in time I have some very big news to share! Especially for you and Kageyama-kun. Hurry, in we go, in we go!” Takeda-sensei announces, pushing the two boys inside.

“I’m home!” You call out as you slip into your bunny slippers. Just as you enter your room, you hang your bag against your rack before changing into your pajamas. You sit at your desk, opening your pencil case and taking out the slip of paper with the confession.

‘I’m in love with Y/n’

You reread and stare at the written confession before bringing your palms up, screaming into your hands.

“Oh my god”

You say quietly to yourself, setting your hands on top of your desk. And with a deep breathe, you plan to ask the other’s what their scripts said, praying the script between your fingers is Tsukishima’s.

- The following day, you make your way into class.

“Good morning my dear friends!” You greet out loud, only to notice Yamaguchi in your seat, huddled closely to Yachi, as Hinata perches over his desk.

You wander over, confused before Yamaguchi notices you, pulling away, the other two following as they glance up to you. Yamaguchi immediately stands from your seat, holding your chair out for you.

Tsukishima, at his desk, turns his head from his notebook to peek at his friends, thinking about how suspicious and obvious the three’s “subtle” behavior is.

“G-good morning Y/n!” He stutters before walking away to his seat besides Tsukishima.

You blink in confusion at your friend’s weird behavior, before turning your attention to your desk’s surface. “How did you guys think you did on the quiz?” You ask curious, taking your notebook and textbook out, setting in on top of your desk.

There is only silence before you realize Yachi and Hinata whispering to one another, they didn’t even hear you ask the question. A bit hurt, you call out to them, only for them to respond back with a jump in surprise.

“Y-y/n! Hi!” Yachi greets as she fiddles with her fingers. You stare at her before turning to Hinata. Hinata sits upright, avoiding eye contact with you as he gulps.

Before you can question what was up with their very odd behavior, Kageyama along with Ono-sensei makes their way in, greeting the class and beginning the instructions. In the middle of the lecture, you find the script in your pencil pouch, remembering your plan the night before. Once break begins, you’re sure to begin asking what script they got.

As the bell rings, you quickly close your notebook, immediately turning to your side only to see Yachi, Hinata and Yamaguchi run out together. Letting out a sigh, you turn behind you, but you end up finding Kageyama asleep, his head down to his desk. Not wanting to disturb his rest, you reach for your bag, pulling out your coin pouch.

As you turn to get out of your seat, a tall figure shadows over you, slowly looking up you realize it's just Tsukishima. You stare at him before he speaks,

“What? Let’s go” He begins walking towards the entrance, and you follow after him. Making your way to the vending machine together.

“Don’t you think Yachi, Hinata and Yamaguchi have been acting weird all morning?” You ask, keeping your eyes on the road.

Tsukishima stills, staying silent recalling the day before in the gym.

Yamaguchi and Hinata stand besides Yachi as they watch their teammates practice from afar.

“Watching everyone practice so hard makes me a bit nervous for Nationals” Yamaguchi admits, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“We’re gonna play against powerful teams! I’m so excited!” Hinata says as he rubs his neck towel around his forehead.

“And you guys have another practice match next week...” Yachi sighs, feeling exhausted for the boys just by remembering. “Yeah! I can’t wait to see Aone-san!” Hinata cheers, remembering his gentle giant of a senior. “I wonder if Asahi-san is still... worried about him.” Yamaguchi scratches his cheek lightly.

“What are you guys doing just standing there?” Tsukishima makes his way over to his three friends. Just as he settles, standing beside the three, a memory pops into Yamaguchi’s mind.

“Ah! Y/n’s birthday is this Friday!” “Oh! You’re right!” Hinata exclaims. “Have you guys planned anything for her?” Yamaguchi turns to his friends, sparkles emitting from his eyes. The two go silent, before Yamaguchi cries. “You’re kidding! I had hopes that at least you two had something prepared!” Tsukishima watches as Yamaguchi breaks down in front of the two.

“Oh!” Hinata exclaims. “Don’t worry, we can leave it all to Kageyama, I’m sure he’s got us covered” Tsukishima rolls his eyes to the name of the setter.

“What?” Kageyama asks, making his way over to his four friends, bringing the towel in his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“Kageyama, do you have anything planned for Y/n’s birthday?” Yamaguchi asks, Kageyama stares at him before looking away, mumbling. “Uh… Yeah”

“You lie!” Hinata accuses before Kageyama takes the towel hanging around his neck, flinging it at the boy. “SHUT UP!”

“Should we throw a small get-together?” Yachi asks, the attention of the four turning to her.

“Yachi-san that’s a great idea!” Yamaguchi compliments. “Oh like a surprise party?” Hinata asks as Tsukishima joins. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to keep your mouth shut” “Stingyshima...” Kageyama looks down before looking up at the blonde, agreeing with him. “He’s right” “KAGEYAMA! Wanna bet?!” Hinata glares before Kageyama gives the shorter boy a smirk. “Three curry buns” “DEAL!”

“HEY!” The four boys jolt, before turning their heads to face Coach Ukai. “First-years, stop standing around and get over here!” Yachi watches the four run off, a small smile spreading her face.

“ki.... Tsukki!” Tsukishima is brought back to reality before looking to you. You huff before you continue to walk. “I feel like I’m being ignored, even by you” You state, as you both stand in front of the vending machine.

Before you can open your coin pouch, Tsukishima slides money into the vending machine.

“Tsukki! How rude, I was just about to-” He takes your wrist, bringing your finger to push the button for the strawberry milk. Your eyes widen as he bends to pick up the now dispense drink. Poking the straw in before standing back up, handing it to you. “You’re overthinking” He says before walking back to class.

You bring the straw up to your lips, a smile turning before you run after him. “Tsukki!”

After school you make your way to the bike lot, stopping as you notice Yachi and Hinata not too far away.

“Yachi! Hinata!” You call out to them. The two visibly tense up before turning around to greet you. “Yachi-san, I’m going to go ahead to the gym!” Hinata says before running off, leaving Yachi with you. ‘That was so close!’ He thinks, hoping you didn’t hear what the two were discussing.

You watch Hinata’s figure get smaller as he moves farther away down the hall. “Hinata’s been acting very strange recently…” You say before turning to look at Yachi. “U-uh, yeah!” She replies, obviously flustered.

Not wanting to invade on what their conversation was about, you two begin walking together towards the bike racks, Yachi still seeming a bit off.

“Yachi?” You ask her, before she turns to you. “Yeah-” You quickly lean closer to her, she gulps as you continue to stare into her eyes, not blinking. “Yachi…” “Y-yeah Y/n?” She stutters.

“What script did you get?” You ask, she blinks as you pull away. “Eh? Ah! The one from Hinata’s game!” Recalling, she immediately pulls her backpack to the front of her, unzipping the smaller compartment as she takes out a slip of paper, handing it to you.

You take it excitedly, bringing it up to your eyes.

‘I’m insecure about my freckles’ it reads.

You look at her as she looks back to you, both understanding what the other is thinking. There’s only one freckled boy in your friend group, ‘It’s Yamaguchi’s.’

Arriving home, you sigh as you drop to your bed. You were only able to get to one of your five friends. “Tomorrow for sure!” You assure yourself, before preparing your workplace to study.

The following day, you have woken up extra early unintentionally. Making your way downstairs to bid you parents farewell, you are met with silence and a kitchen note on the dining table. Your parents have gone out for groceries, leaving you cash to buy breakfast on the way to school.

Deciding to stop by Coach Ukai’s, in the shop you hear a familiar voice. “Thanks Coach!” Hinata thanks. Just as he was going to walk out, you called out to him.

“Hinata!” He turns to greet you good morning, waiting for you to pay for your purchase before the two of you head to school together.

“You should have seen what happened at practice two days ago! Kageyama and Tsukishima were so mean!” He rambles complaining of the two taller boys as you listen. “Kageyama even made a bet because he thought I couldn’t-” He stops himself immediately, you turn in confusion to see Hinata shoving the freshly baked bun he had bought into his mouth. “H-Hinata?!” You question him in surprise, immediately taking your water bottle out handing it to him.

He quickly chews and swallows before accepting your water bottle, taking a sip. You watch him in worry. “Why did you do that?” You question as he hands your water bottle back. “N-no reason!” The two of you continue your pace, reaching the school gates.

As you walk through the gates, you remember your question.

“Oh! Shoyo!” You whisper harshly, grabbing his attention. He turns to you before replying in the same manner. “Yeah?!” “What script did you get?” You ask him. “Oh! I think I got Yachi’s” He says a little too loudly.

“Really? What did it say?” He grabs the slip from his bag, handing it to you before replying. “It said that boy’s over 6 feet scare me.” You stare at the script, then at him before letting out a chuckle of how adorable your blonde baby is, it’s definitely hers.

Walking into class, you notice Kageyama asleep at his desk again.

‘He’s been sleeping a lot recently, I wonder if practice really got to him.’ You think before sitting in your seat in front of him.

At your desk, you sit thinking quietly to yourself. ‘Hinata, Yachi…’ “Good morning!” You hear a cheerful voice greet, bringing your eyes up immediately meeting with Yamaguchi’s across the room.

“Guchi!” You call out, motioning your palm for him to come over. He drops his bag at his desk before making his way to you with a smile. “Hey Y/n! What’s up?” You ask for him to come even closer, he leans his ear towards you.

“What script did you get?” It takes him a moment to process your words, he scratches his cheek shyly before standing upright and crossing his arms. “Y/n… Wasn’t the point of the game to keep the confession a secret?” The boy says, beginning to sound a little too much like Tsukishima.

“Guchi!” You cry bringing your head down to your desk, before looking back up to stare at him. An almost hostile stare, you hear the boy gulp. “Listen! For educational purposes, I would like to know, so please?” You plead, as your gaze softens, giving him a familiar puppy eyed look.

He sighs before giving a soft smile. Making his way back to his bag, he fetches his wallet, taking the slip out and walking back to you, handing the slip over. You take it excitedly, bringing it up to your eyes to read it.

The handwriting is illegible.

You turn the slip back around, having it face Yamaguchi. “Can you read that?” “Nope” You both blink before bursting into laughter. “I think it’s either Hinata’s or Kageyama’s” He theorizes as you hand the slip back. “Hmm, good thinking”

“I’m home!” You call out, dropping your school bag to the side. “Ah! Y/n!” Your dad calls from the kitchen. “Yeah?” You respond as your dad runs to you. “We-” “You” Your mom corrects your dad, obviously in a bad mood. “I forgot to grab milk when we went grocery shopping, can you please head to the nearest store and buy some?” He whispers, begging for your help.

Your mom walks out the kitchen with a butcher knife in hand. Glaring at your dad before turning to you, her demeanor immediately changing. “Can you also pick up a bottle of soy sauce, love? We’re out” “Sure!” “Oh! So it’s okay for you to forget something, but I get in trouble for not getting the milk?” Your dad points out as your mom turns her attention back to him, immediately shutting him up.

Your dad turns to you, handing his wallet. “Please hurry! This woman’s crazy!” He begs, whispering the last part. You laugh at your dad’s behavior before walking out. “I’m heading out!”

Making your way up the hill to Coach Ukai’s shop, you immediately head towards the glass fridges, grabbing a carton of milk. Turning the corner, you quickly grab the bottle of soy sauce before heading to the cashier.

“This is all please” You say not looking up as you take money from your dad’s wallet. Placing the money onto the tray, you glance up only to meet Kageyama’s eyes.

“T-Tobio?! What are you doing- You work here?” You look at him in shock. He looks away in embarrassment. “Yeah…” You hear him reply as he scans your items, refusing eye contact. “Since when?! Aren’t you busy with preparing for nationals- you should be at practice! Does Coach Ukai know you’re here?!” You ramble as he bags your items. “S-since two weeks… And yes he knows… I’m only working until the end of today, for extra allowance” He admits, handing you your items and the tray containing change.

“Oh! Well in that case... keep working hard Tobio!” You give him a warm smile before taking your items and change.

Right as you were about to walk out, you turn and run up to him once again.

“Tobio!” He immediately shuts the cashier with a loud slam in surprise. “Tobio, what did your script say?” You ask him. Kageyama stands there, his brain short circuits before stuttering out a response. “U-uh” He turns his head away, his gaze immediately falling on the revolving heater filled with curry buns, just besides the cashier. “I-I’m in love with curry buns!” He blurts out.

You blink as his answer processes in your head. ‘So it is Tsukki’s!’ Your face slowly turns red, thanking Kageyama quickly as you run out the entrance.

Giving a final wave to him, you walk out of the doors, completely missing the warm smile he gave you as you walked away.

“I’m home~” You call out, slipping your shoes off and skipping into the kitchen. “I’ve brought your requests~!” You say happily, removing the plastic bag containing the two items and gently handing them to your parents before skipping up the stairs.

Your parents watch in confusion before looking at each other.

Lightly shutting the door close to your room, you make your way to your desk, looking out your window to find Tsukishima studying. Just as he was about to look up, you immediately take your curtains and shut the blinds before crouching.

Tsukishima on his end, rolls his eyes and scoffs with a smile as he focuses back onto his studies.

Happy Fridays, Happy Birthdays.

“Y/n~” You wake up to the sound of someone familiar calling out to you. “Yeah?” “Happy birthday!” You sit up seeing your parents are seated to the side of your bed. Your dad is holding a muffin in hand with a candle lit above as your mom hands you a wrapped present. You smile, blowing the candle as you set the present to the side.

“Our baby’s almost an adult! Can you believe that?” Your dad wipes a fake tear from his eye, your mom slaps his arm for being silly.

“Come, come! Get dressed and hurry downstairs.” Your mom says before dragging your dad out of your room.

You smile happily, grateful for your parents before getting dressed.

Making your way downstairs, your mom calls for you from the living room.

“Ah! Love, I hate to make you do favors on your birthday, but can you please take this to Kei-kun?” She hands you a cute envelope. You take it from her, flipping the envelope around, admiring how cute and frilly it is.

Growing impatient your mom huffs, “Don’t waste time staring at it! Go!” She pushes you out the door and you watch confused as the door shuts. Shrugging your mom’s behavior off, you make your way next door to Tsukishima's.

Ringing the bell, there is no reply. Knocking on the door, there is no reply. “Tsukki!” You call out. Tapping the envelope to your palm, you wait patiently before twisting the doorknob, noticing it is once again open. ‘He’s gotta start locking his door, what if I was a robber.’ You think to yourself. “I’m coming in!” You call out, twisting the door and making your way in.

Slipping your shoes off, you notice the lights are off. “Tsukki?” You call out again, stepping up from the entryway. “Tsukki?” Just as you make your way past the hall, you hear shuffling coming from the dining room. “Tsukki! My mom gave me this letter to-” As you walk in the dining room, the lights turn on immediately, confetti is popped into the air.

“Surprise!” Your friends cheer in sync. You still in surprise, beginning to tear up as you make your way over to them, noticing the party hats adorn to the top of their heads, and the dining room decorated in cute banners and balloons.

“Wha-” “Y/n!” Hinata tackles you into a hug.“Are you surprised?” Kageyama yanks Hinata off you, muttering out a “stupid” to the boy. “Happy birthday Y/n!” Yachi pulls you into a warm hug, taking your hand and leading you closer to the dining table, before heading off into the kitchen, with Hinata and Kageyama.

“Happy birthday my dear long time best, best, best, best friend!” Yamaguchi greets, squeezing you into a hug as Tsukishima scoffs. “Yamaguchi, help! KAGEYAMA-” Hinata calls from Tsukishima’s kitchen. “Coming!” Yamaguchi pulls away, heading towards his friends’ cry for help, leaving you alone with Tsukishima.

You both watch as your freckled friend leaves the room.

“So this is why they were acting weird?” You chuckle, looking up to the taller man. Tsukishima brings his hand to squeeze your cheek. “Told you you were overthinking” Blush spreads across your cheeks as you continue your gaze on him, and his on yours.

“Hap-” “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” Tsukishima is interrupted as your four friends run back into the dining hall, Yamaguchi with a match that’s lit. “Hurry before it goes out!” “Shut up Hinata, it's not going to go out!” “Stop it you two!” Yachi scolds Hinata and Kageyama as Yamaguchi lights the candles, before blowing the match out.

You laugh before turning your attention to the cake, your eyes illuminating with the fire’s flames. Tsukishima watches you in awe, as another smile makes its way across your face.

“3… 2… 1!” Yamaguchi counts down as the four begin singing. You look up, smiling to your friends before turning your gaze to Tsukishima, who you found beginning to sing along as well. Your smile grows wider as the song ends, blowing the candles out.

“Let me get a slice!” “Be patient!” “Oh, remove the candle before the wax melts onto the frosting!” “Make way, I have plates coming through!” “Ah, let me get the spoons!” “Where’s the cake cutter?” You watch as your friends scramble around before you remember the letter in hand your mom had asked for you to deliver to Tsukishima.

“Ah, Tsukki!” He turns his head to you. “My mom wanted me to give you this envelope” He blinks before replying. “No thanks” “What? But my mom-” “Open it” He instructs. You follow his orders, tearing the top of the cute envelope, opening it to reveal a slip of paper with a poorly drawn frog on it. “What?!” “It was a decoy to get you to come over, pipsqueak.” He says as he turns his attention back to your friends entering the room.

“Let me cut it!” Hinata says, running after Yachi. “No, don’t let Hinata cut the cake!” Yamaguchi yells over. Yachi shakes Hinata off her tail before digging the knife into the cake, cutting the first slice and bringing it over to you. “For you~!” You take it happily.

Just as Yachi finishes serving everyone a slice of cake, the six of you sit at the dining table, chatting away.

“Y/n!” Hinata beams, as you turn your attention to him. “Takeda-sensei came into the gym a few days ago with big news! Though… just for Kageyama and Tsukishima.” He grumbles out the last part. “Oh yeah! Tsukki got invited to Miyagi’s Prefectural Mock Youth Camp tomorrow!” Yamaguchi joins in. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima lets out lowly before taking another bite from the slice of cake.

“And Kageyama-kun” All eyes turn to the setter. “He got asked to join the All-Japan Youth Training Camp!” “Also tomorrow.” Hinata mumbles as you drop your spoon to your plate. “Japan?!” You scream in surprise. “Yeah! Youth as in the national representatives for Japan under the age of 19!” Yachi lets out before you jump from your seat, making your way towards your two friends to congratulate them.

“That’s so cool!” You squeeze Kageyama as he begins to blush. “Remember me when you’re famous, alright?” You joke before turning to Tsukishima, diving in for a hug. “My friends are so cool with their volleyball club!” You cheer, very happy for your friends. “Let me know if you need another manager!” You joke as your friends fall into a fit of laughter. Though, it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

You feel very fortunate to spend the morning of your 17th birthday with the friends you love unconditionally.

As afternoon comes close, Yachi along with Yamaguchi are the first to leave.

Tsukishima excuses himself to the “bathroom” as you walk towards Tsukishima’s entrance with your friends, seeing Yachi and Yamaguchi out first.

“Ah! Y/n, before I leave I have a present for you!” She reaches into her purse, pulling out a cutely wrapped bag, handing it to you. “It’s not much, but I hope you enjoy it! I love you so much!” She gives you a final hug as Yamaguchi sees her out.

“Y/n I’ll drop your gift off later!” Yamaguchi waves as the two walk out.

Kageyama in the distance stills, patting himself, checking every pocket he had from his jacket, to his sweats.

“Oh! The present! Y/n! This is from me” Hinata makes his way over handing you a paper bag. “Don’t open it now though! Wait until later! Happy birthday again, I’ll see you later!” He runs out the door, before stopping to turn around. “Kageyama! Let’s go get my curry buns! Get me that employee discount too!”

Kageyama looks up to you, you notice his off state. “Tobio, you okay?” You ask as he looks away. “I… I forgot your present at home. I’m so sorry.” He bows his head slightly as you stop him. “Tobio! Don’t be sorry” You reassure, your hands cup his jaw, bringing his gaze back up. He looks so sad.

“You didn’t even need to get me a present, you being here with me on my birthday is enough!” You say, trying to make him feel better as he pulls you into a hug. “Oomf!” “I’ll come by and drop it off later too” He pulls away as you wave to him.

Shutting the door you turn making your way back towards the dining room. A smile spreading across your face once more of the scene.

Not noticing the feeling of someone behind, a weight leaning closer to your left ear. “Boo.” A voice says lowly, and very bluntly, their breath tickling you.

“AH!” You jump startled, turning around, your back meeting the dining table as you hold onto the edge. Looking up to meet your gaze to Tsukishima. “Tsukki!!! Stop! Don’t scare me like that!” You rest your hand to your chest as he leans down closer to you. “I literally just said ‘boo’-” “STILL!” You cross your arms, turning yourself away from him, missing his tiny smile.

“Y/n” He calls out, pulling an envelope from his back and hitting you lightly on the head with it.

You turn back to him, looking up and grabbing whatever he had lightly tapped on you.

A cute envelope, similar to the one your mom had given you to deliver to Tsukishima, the “decoy”.

Bringing it down from your eyes just a bit, you hide your gaze from Tsukishima. Tsukishima sees your eyes peeking through the envelope before sighing. “What the hell are you doing?” “It’s another one of your tricks!” You snap back. “It’s not” “Oh yeah?” “Just open it” “You said that the last time!” “Y/n” He calls demandingly, leaning towards you, his gaze not leaving yours.

You freeze as his face comes closer to yours, feeling heat spread across your cheeks, his lips just a few inches away from yours. “Open it.” Leaves his lips, you feel his breath on yours. You jump, pushing him away lightly. “Okay! Okay!” You muster out, taking a deep breath before slowly unsealing the envelope.

You reach your fingers in, feeling a thin paper like texture. Turning your eyes back up to him, you notice him looking at you. Quirking your eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. You turn your attention back to the envelope, slowly removing whatever was cased inside.

Pulling out the paper, you bring it above the envelope, reading whatever was on it.

Your eyes widen as you read and realize what it is.

“Tsukki!” You cry, jumping right into him. He catches you, looking down as you look up. “Are these… are these- really?!” His heart skips a beat, listening to your shocked excitement. “Tickets to Miyagi’s Museum of Art? No.” “TSUKKI!” You muffle your head into his chest, muttering a ‘thank you’.

“Come again?” He teases as you pull away. “Thank you!!!” You scream, about to dive in for another hug before he extends his palm to rest at your forehead, stopping you, causing you to flail around as you try to reach him. “Tsukki!!!” You whine as he lets out a low laugh.

You stop, and he drops his hand down. The two of you stare at each other before he turns around, making his way out of the dining room. “Wh- Where are you going?” You ask, following after him. “To get ready” “To get ready?” He turns, grabbing the tickets from your hands, revealing two. He brings them up to your eye level, “The exhibit starts in 2 hours.” He says pointing to the reservation time on the ticket. You beam in excitement, immediately running to the entrance door. “Okay! I’ll get ready too!” You yell before running out, leaving him with your tickets, which was probably the best move.

Tsukishima watches as you run out his gate, making your way to yours next door. A small laugh leaving his lips before he takes his leave to his room.

Check out this 2-min video tour of the museum if you wanna get a feel before you continue to read! [ Haruka Travel’s 宮城県美術館 💝]

“You have reached Kawauchi Station” The speaker announces.

You step off the subway with Tsukishima besides you, making your way to north exit 1.

Walking down the street, you look around your surroundings, the beautiful city of Sendai. Tsukishima watches you in awe as your eyes look from left to right, up and down, sparkling in excitement.

Just then you gasp suddenly, quickly taking hold of his hand, surprising him, as you drag him with you to the front of the Museum.

“We’re here!” You beam, your hands still intertwined with Tsukishima’s. Tsukishima looks at you from the corner of his eyes, enjoying the warmth of your hand, squeezing it slightly before you let go. “Come on Kei, let’s go!” You turn to him before running towards the entrance.

Tsukishima hands the tickets to the receptionist as she extends a guidebook to you two. “I hope you and your girlfriend enjoy the museum.” She wishes. “Ah! He’s not my-” “Thank you very much” He takes the guidebook before walking away. You turn, a smile leaving your face as you follow after him.

Making your way into the entrance hall, your excitement bubbles as you see the big staircase leading to the galleries. You run past Tsukishima, taking a few steps up the stairs before turning down to him.

It’s as if time has slowed down, Tsukishima’s eyes grow wider at the sight of you twirling to face him. The way your hair swayed slowly along with your dress, the shine sparkling in your eyes, your lashes fluttering in excitement, the warm and beautiful glowing smile that always leaves him breathless.

“Kei!” He snaps out of his trance, walking closer. “Last one to the exhibit hall is a stinkyshima!” You laugh, before turning, beginning your pace up the stairs. Tsukishima is left shocked, before letting out a chuckle, immediately using the power of his long legs to reach the top of the stairs.

You both huff when you reach the top of the staircase. “Not fair!” “You had a head start” “But you have long legs! And you’re athletic!” You whine, he ruffles your head before taking your hand. “Come on, let’s go” He says, leading you into the exhibit hall together. Leaving you both, neither a stinkyshima.

“Tsukki look!” You make your way over to a familiar portrait you have studied. “This is the Portrait of Sanada Hisakichi! It’s an oil on canvas painting, isn’t it similar to a certain style of art you may remember… The Starry Night? Kishida Ryusei was in a group that was formed by the inspirations of Vincent Van Gogh and Paul Cézanne! He and his friend were members of the group.” You say in excitement, pointing to the portrait. “Sanada was his friend by the way!” You finish, turning your head to another display, quickly dragging him with you.

“This is A Bird by the iconic AI-MITSU! Notice how in the painting there's a single deceased bird and various plants all around, like that red flower in the center?” He nods, listening as you continue. “That red flower looks very similar to an animal’s blood vessel, doesn’t it? This painting is meant to signify how both life and death are united. The deceased bird, but the lively plants surrounding it…” You trail off before looking up to him. “Kind of sad now… realizing it symbolizes death...” You frown, he frowns along with you before dragging you off.

“Ah-! Tsukki!” “What about this?” Opening your eyes, you come face to face with a beautifully painted woman. “I don’t think I’m familiar with this one… but the way the bright choice of the palette makes it as the light being filtered by the leaves shines and bathes the woman, it feels very soothing and calming to look at.” Your gaze stuck to the painting, as Tsukishima’s stuck to yours. The way the sunlight filtered by the illuminating ceiling shines and bathes against you, makes him feel at ease, calm, and comfortable, just like Watanabe Ryusoke’s oil painting, ‘A Women in the Shade of a Tree’.

You two make your way out of the exhibit hall, the guidebook in hand.

“Oh!” You stop in your tracks, Tsukishima turning to you before you immediately drop the guidebook to your thighs. “There’s one more painting I want to see!” Taking his hand, you run back into the exhibit hall.

The two of you stand besides each other in silence, staring at the painting in front of you. “What?” Tsukishima asks, taken aback in confusion. “It’s A Cat!” “I can see that-” “No Tsukki!” You laugh before pointing at the information details. “This painting is literally called A Cat, it’s by Hasegawa Rinjiro” “A… Cat?” Tsukishima blinks, staring at the cute tabby cat laying on top of the red flooring. “Isn’t it so cute!” You squeal. His gaze turns down to your features, “Yeah.”

You sat besides Tsukishima at the Atelier in Studio 2. A personal blank canvas in front of you both as various brushes are to the side. “Here is the painter's palette, let me know if you need anything else” An employee leaves a tray of multiple colors of paint in front of you two before leaving.

You grab a paintbrush that sits besides the tray of paint before looking at Tsukishima. He’s staring at the paintbrushes, noticeably confused. You giggle before picking out a paintbrush, handing it to him. “Start with this!” He takes it, as you turn your attention back to the tray of paint. He watches as you dip the brush, patting it slightly on a clothe before hovering over your canvas. Following your same steps, he does the same.

Except, he forgets to tap off the excess paint, causing it to lightly drip over what was once a perfectly clean canvas. “Tsukki!” You startle him, he immediately takes his gaze off from you, turning to his hand as he sees the canvas has been soiled with a drop of paint. “SHIT-” “It’s okay!” You laugh as you take his hand with the paintbrush, lightly tapping it against the towel in front of you.

He watches as you do so, you turn your head meeting his. The two of you stare for what feels like a long time, before you ask, “What should we paint?” He blinks before shrugging. You frown before an idea pops into mind. “Let’s paint something for each other” “Y/n I can barely draw-” “Doesn’t matter!” You say before switching your canvas with his. “Here, you can have my canvas.” “No” He tries to switch your canvases, feeling bad that you’re offering the clear one to him, before you stop him. “You’re going to give me that one anyways, right?” You point to the clear canvas on his side.

He blinks processing what you’ve said, you were right. He scoffs before turning his attention back to the canvas. “Okay, on your mark, get set-” “I thought art takes time” “SHH! Go!”

The two of you spend the next forty-five minutes of your reserved time in the station before the employee comes back to help clear your items, as well as setting your work to the side, handing you both a ticket.

“Thank you so much for using our workshop, we hope you enjoyed your experience. Please come by at the end of the day to pick up your paintings, we will hold them here to dry as you continue your tour around the museum.” The employee greets as the two of you thank, leaving to your next destination.

The two of you make your way outside the museum, heading towards the gardens, stopping right in front of the destination post.

“Which way do you want to go?” He asks, you place a finger to your chin, reading the sign, before looking up to him with a smile. “Let’s go North!” You take his hand as you begin your pace.

“Y/n” “Hm?” You stop, turning to him, your hand still in his. “Yeah?” You watch as Tsukishima awkwardly looks away before speaking, “We’re going South.” You turn your head towards the sign again, squinting your eyes to see the arrow pointing the opposite way.

“Ah-” You let go in embarrassment, looking away as he clears his throat. He takes your hand before he turns his tail, bringing you the correct way. A smile spreading, unknown from either embarrassment or joy the blonde has given you.

“WAAA- Tsukki look!” You drag him, running towards a koi pond. Letting go of his hand, you squat, pointing your finger into the pond. “Look how pretty the koi fishes are! There's so many of them in different colors!”

You bring your hands to your knees, watching the fish swim in awe. You tug on his pants, before beaming “Tsukki look! It's a frog!” Tsukishima squats besides you, before noticing children with their parents on the other side of the pond, doing just as you were.

Tsukishima gives a small smile, remembering when you two were just kids.

“Tsukki look!” You call the blonde boy over, squatting in your rain boots as you point towards the puddle. “It’s a frog!” Tsukishima squats besides you, his eyes falling where your finger points to.

“Gross-” “Don’t say that, frogs have feelings too!” You scold as Tsukishima laughs before standing. Holding the umbrella above you, blocking the rain from soiling your raincoat.

The harsh drops from the rain on the umbrella echoes throughout your moment of comfortable silence before- “Do you think it fell from the sky?”

Tsukishima blinks at your very strange question. “What-” “Do you think it’s hurt?!” You immediately turn your gaze to him, your eyes beginning to water. He just stares down at you confused, not knowing how to answer your question, or deal with this situation, but he doesn’t want to see you cry.

Letting out a sigh, he hands you the umbrella before cupping the frog into his palms. You immediately stand, your hand tightening on the grip of the umbrella as you look at the frog in his hands. “It’s so cute!” You let out, his stare falls on you from the corner of his eye. He lets out a smile before walking off. “Let’s go, Yamaguchi might know what to do.”

You beam in joy watching as your friend walks off. “Tsukki!”

“Tsukki...” Tsukishima turns his head to you calling his attention. You stare at the frog before looking back to him, a smirk appearing on your face. “Wanna touch it?” He scoffs as he gets up, lightly cow-tipping you over as he begins to walk away.

“Ah- Tsukki!” You laugh, getting up before following him, little did he know you had the same memory running through your head.

Exiting the gardens, you find yourselves by the courtyard before Tsukishima speaks up “Are you hungry?”. You turn to look to him before thinking, ‘am I?’ The automatic grumble of your stomach answers that, and you blush from the embarrassment.

In the distance, the two of you find Café Mozart Figaro just by the courtyard and Terrace.

You both turn to look at each other, before making your way over.

“Welcome! Table for 2?” The waiter greets, leading you both to a seat.

“This restaurant looks so cool!” You whisper to him as the waiter comes back with a menu. You happily take it, going through the selections.

“Tsukki!” You whisper harshly, not taking your eyes off the fine selection choices. Tsukishima looks up from his to you. You slowly peek out from the side of the menu, before bringing your hand, flipping his over and pointing towards the desserts.

“They have strawberry shortcake” You watch his pupils widen up, eyeing the menu as the waiter comes back. “Are you ready to order?” “Two slices of strawberry shortcakes” Tsukishima replies immediately before looking to you. You stare at him in shock, ‘Two?!’ You clear your throat before handing the menu to the waiter. “If I can order a slice of tiramisu, please” The waiter nods, taking your menus before leaving.

“Two?!” “Yeah?” He replies sarcastically to your comment. “TWO??” “YEAH??” The two of you stare at each other before you burst into a quiet fit of laughter, Tsukishima clutching his hand into a fist, bringing it up to his mouth to hide his laugh.

“Here you go, thank you again for your purchase.” The waiter sets your cakes onto the table before walking off.

Tsukishima then slides a plate of strawberry shortcake to you. You look up in confusion before he replies. “Remember when you thought I got upset at you? And you bought me a slice of strawberry shortcake.” You nod as he continues. “Well, this is for all the times I got you upset.” He finishes, taking his spoon, digging into his shortcake leaving you speechless.

Immediately bringing your hands up to your face to cover the blush spreading, you let out an internal scream. Tsukishima smiles discreetly into the strawberry shortcake bite as he watches your flustered state.

“That was absolutely delicious!” “I can’t believe you ate both cakes in one sitting” “Hey! Listen, you gave me the opportunity and I took it, and might I say it would have been very delicious if you didn’t steal a bite from my tiramisu-” You stop in your tracks, looking off into the distance.

Tsukishima, concerned, follows your gaze only to roll his eyes at what you were staring at. He feels the burning stare of your eyes looking up to him, finally giving in, he looks down at you. Those puppy eyes are going to be the death of him someday.

Taking his hand, you drag him towards the Children’s Playroom.

“What are we? 5?” “Tsukki please, look how cute this play center is!” You make your way towards the set of wooden toys and picture books, taking a seat on the soft cushion. Tsukishima rolls his eyes before sitting besides you, leaning over to see the pages of the picture book.

“Wow… it has all the pictures and information of the artwork displayed in the gallery! What a great way to start educating at such a young age” You say flipping through the pages. Tsukishima grabs one of the wooden toys, playing with its limbs as you continue to read.

Tsukishima looks up, eyeing something from a distance before standing, something has caught his attention. You don’t even notice until he’s by the entrance of the playroom. “Huh? Tsukki?” You watch as he exits. Closing and setting the book back on the table, you follow him out, only to notice he made his way across towards the museum shop.

You watch from afar as he immediately goes towards an item, but yet you can’t see it. Making his way to the front, you watch as he pays and you notice the cashier wrapping it nicely, stuffing it into a cute bag adorning the logo of Miyagi’s Museum of Art. Before making his way back, you make eye contact with him. You jump in surprise, immediately running back to the playroom, sitting on the cushion with the book opened upside down, pretending as if you didn’t just watch the whole transaction.

Tsukishima walks in, making his way back to you. You bring the book up to your face, avoiding his gaze as he sets the bag in front of you. You slowly bring the book down, peeking your eyes above only to meet Tsukishima’s just inches from yours. “For you” He says, sitting beside you, bringing the wooden toy he was just playing with closer.

You drop the book, sliding it off to the side before sneaking your hands towards the bag. Before you can peek in, Tsukishima lets out “Not until you get home.” His gaze not leaving the toy in his hands.

You give a dramatic pout, grabbing the bag and hugging it close to your chest, hiding half your smiling face behind it.

“Thank you so much for your patience, here are your paintings.” The employee says, handing you both your canvases, nicely wrapped. “Thank you so much!” You thank before walking out with Tsukishima.

You exit the studio, walking through Alice’s Garden towards the entrance of the museum.

“Ah! I can’t believe this day is already over!” You let out a tired, but yet happy sigh, looking around at the mirrors reflecting from Alice’s Garden. “This is such a pretty walkway…” You say as the two of you stroll slowly. Your eyes focused on the road, missing Tsukishima’s gaze of awe, how the mirror’s surrounding Alice’s Garden reflects the sunset’s glow on your features.

Exiting the museum, you both find your way back to the station, finally heading home.

Kageyama makes his way up to your resident’s gates, a small box in his hand.

He thought to just leave it in your mailbox, and text you, not wanting to disturb if you were having quality time with your family inside. He slips the box into the slot of your mailbox, quickly texting you he had left your present inside, before hearing footsteps approaching.

Immediately, he looks back and forth, before turning the corner, hiding behind the utility post. He stills, questioning himself why he had just done that. And as he begins to walk away, he hears a familiar voice. "We’re finally back!”

Kageyama peeks his head from the corner, noticing you and Tsukishima.

“Thanks again for walking me home.” You say with a bright smile. “Sorry, but I live right next to you.” Tsukishima looks down, giving you his iconic cocky grin. “Kei!” You cry as he lets out a soft chuckle. “Ah! We must now exchange the paintings we made for each other!” You declare.

He brings his bag to the front, pulling out the carefully wrapped canvas. As you thought he was going to hand it over, you reach for it, only for him to raise it above your shorter figure. “Tsukki!” “Where’s mine, hm?” You blink, remembering, you pull the wrapped canvas from the gift bag Tsukishima had given you earlier with your secret ‘don’t open until you get home’ present.

“On the count of three, we do an equal exchange! One.. two.. Three!” You switch, both opening the wrapping to reveal the painting. Tsukishima carefully removes the wrapper, pulling the painting out and eyeing it in awe. You on the other hand, impatiently yet carefully remove the wrapper, only to come face to face with a…

You turn your painting around, showing it to him. “Is this supposed to be us?!” You question, bringing the painting closer to him. “Listen, before you say anything, I told you I couldn’t-” “I love it!” You scream, clutching the canvas close to your chest before looking up to him, your eyes sparkling.

Tsukishima stays silent, surprised by your reaction, he was not expecting you to like it, at all.“It’s from when it was raining that day…” You begin, your eyes to the ground before looking up at him. “And we rescued that frog!” Tsukishima continues his silence, he’s absolutely astonished you were able to notice what the painting was of.

His painting was a poorly drawn figure of you two, an umbrella in your hand and a deformed frog in his, the cloudy and rainy skies blocking the sun as you two stand side by side on the pavement. Simply drawn flowers and grass surrounding in puddles.

He nods before showing you your painting. “This… is also us?” He asks as you begin to nod. “Remember that night after the culture festival?” He nods. “I had a weird dream that night, that you gave me a piggyback ride on the way home!” Tsukishima stills, he remembers that night well. “And, the sky was sparkling with so many stars! And the moon was shining down on us! And you told me...” You trail, trying to remember what you were going to say. Tsukishima freezes, he knew what you were about to say. So you did hear him that night. “Ah, I forgot” You sigh in frustration, as he sighs in relief.

Your painting consists of your version of The Starry Night. Two figures shown in the center of the painting, one walking and the other held closely, clung to figure one’s back.

Tsukishima blinks again, ‘that was not a dream.’

There’s another moment of comfortable silence, before you begin. “Thank you so much again for tonight Tsukki” Tsukishima looks down as you give him a warm smile. The moonlight shining on the two of you, somehow making your smile brighter.

Tsukishima tries to hide his smile, bringing his hand to squeeze your cheek. “Yeah, yeah.” You whine before letting out a cheerful laugh, Tsukishima follows with a chuckle.

Kageyama watches the interaction from afar, feeling his heart and gut clench before pulling out the script he has kept with him since that night in Tokyo.

‘I really like someone in this group, but please keep it a secret.’

Rereading the slip, he knew it was yours to begin with. He was very familiar with your handwriting, and the night he received the slip, he had hope that it was meant for him.

He looks up from the script to you two. Watching how happy you looked, laughing along with Tsukishima. Tsukishima’s usual smug and cocky-stoic like behavior softening to you, and only you.

Kageyama takes a moment to realize, you meant Tsukishima in the script.

For what felt like an eternity as he had stood there, he begins to walk away, the sound of your laughter drifting farther into the distance. Stopping by a trash bin, he tosses your script before shielding his hands into the pocket of his sweats. His mind fogged as he makes his way back home.

Your laughter dies, opening your eyes once again, your gaze immediately fall to Tsukishima’s. You both share a brief moment of silence gazing into one another before he speaks. “Happy birthday Y/n” He gives a soft smile before ruffling the top of your hair. Just as you were about to open the gate to your residence, you turn, facing him again.

“Tsukki! What script did you get?” You watch as he shoves his hands into his pocket before leaning down to you with a smirk on his face. “It’s a secret script” You whine before continuing your persuasion “I’ll tell you mines…” You inch closer to him, cupping your hand to your mouth before whispering “I wrote that I like you.”

Tsukishima stands upright again, before taking his finger to flick your forehead. “Can you be any more shameless?” He jokes with a grin. “I don’t want to play this game.” He says, you blink processing his words. “Haha, very funny Kei” You watch as Tsukishima reaches for the pocket in his bag, pulling out a slip before handing it to you.

You take it in, bringing it up close to read the confession.

“I don’t want to play this game” Written in Tsukishima’s neat handwriting.

Your face contorts to one of confusion, bringing the slip down before looking up to him.

He gives a final squeeze to your cheek before pushing you past your gates. “Goodnight pipsqueak” He says waiting for you to enter your house, finally making his way to his after you enter.

You stand by your doorway confused when you felt your phone vibrate. Reaching into your bag, you pull your phone to see a text message from Yamaguchi, but noticing you missed a notification from Kageyama not too long ago.

Disregarding Yamaguchi’s message, you head immediately to Kageyama’s as it reads that his present for you is in the mailbox.

You quickly drop your bags before making your way back out, opening the slot to the mailbox and feeling around until you felt the touch of a small box. Pulling it out, you make your way back inside, bringing all your items up to your room.

Shutting the door behind you, you bring Kageyama’s gift to your desk. Pulling out his script along with Tsukishima’s, you place them side by side before slowly opening the box.

Your heart sinks as your eyes catch the beautiful shine of a necklace cased within. Your eyes moving back towards the script, then back to the box repeatedly.

Your memory takes you back to your encounter with Kageyama at Coach Ukai’s shop.

Kageyama stands there, his brain short circuiting before he stutters a response. “U-uh” You watch in confusion as he turns his head away, his gaze immediately falling on the revolving heater filled with curry buns, just besides the cashier. “I-I’m in love with curry buns!” He blurts out.

You realize, everyone gave you a script to read when you asked, but Kageyama.

Taking his script into your hands, you graze your finger over the writing before bringing your touch to the beautiful necklace in the elegantly wrapped box in front of you.

“Tobio...”

A/N 2: AAAAHHH! Buckle your seat belts because Kageyama’s rollercoaster has just begun! Thank you so so much again for reading and sticking around for this chapter💓! I have been on the edge of my seat, so excited to post this! Anyways- I’ll see you guys in the next chapter!!! I have to go take another exam now oh my god... LOVE YOU MWAH!!!💖💞💘

Love, Ani 🌸

TAGLIST: @cvlliesstuff , @strawberries-en-cream , @beanst0ck , @kimiiiiiiiiii, @lucyheartfilias-wife , @lanatheawesome , @owlnymph , @poggerschampers , @nachotrash , @kac-chowsballs

PLEASE LEMME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS (OR IN ASKS) IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!!!

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

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bakug0z · 3 years

Text

"i believe there’s a hero in all of us.”

sero x fem!reader

request: Hiiii can you do fluff where sero tries to be like spiderman in front of his s/o tysm 🥺

notes: i am literally the biggest nerd so i am obviously excited to do this fic hehe. also sorry for being really slow on requests, school has me fucked uppp.

just a heads up, holland!spider-man and other marvel characters will be real just for the sake of the fic but they won’t physically show up lol. maguire!spider-man is just an actor playing a real hero (if that makes sense)

warnings: make out sesh, thisiskindarushedandididnotrevisethissorry, cheesy shit, overuse of commas lmao

“Sero, be more creative with your techniques.” The boy does a half-smile at his teacher’s advice. It was another day of students trying to hone their quirks in the gym. Everyone had been improving at a good rate and others - Bakugo and Midoriya - were going beyond expectations. Sero had been improving his quirk pretty well but his stances, techniques, formation were all very similar to a specific U.S. Hero. “I get that you can’t help yourself because of how similar your quirk is compared to U.S. Hero Spider-Man but you’re gonna have to think outside the box and come up with original techniques.” Aizawa explained, earning a shocked expression from the student in front of him.

“How can I do that...though...” Sero trails off as Aizawa continues onto the next student to give his advice to. Spider-Man was one of Sero’s biggest inspirations to being a hero and also inspired him to move forward to become just like him. He would search up photos of the hero and see him posing in NYC, taking down bad guys, or swinging through buildings.

“He’s so cool...” Sero whispered in astonishment as he watches the shaky video of his favorite hero take down Mysterio in London. He watched every little move the young hero made and made small movements from what appeared on screen. “I wanna be like you, Spider-Man.” The young student grins from ear to ear before raising his fist up in happiness.

Sero spent the rest of the school day training alone in the gym. While he was training, he couldn’t help but think of what happened during training. Should I even be a hero if someone like me is already out there? Spider-Man basically came up with everything up to imagination. In the middle of his train of thought, he remembered someone. His girlfriend. Shit, I haven’t even bothered to talk to her all day. He packed up his equipment and headed straight to the locker room. There, he checked his phone.

(Y/N) 3:20PM

where r u? i thought we were walking home together?

He looked at the text in confusion before quickly checking the time. 3:40?! "Shit!” He mumbled before quickly changing into his clean clothes. He hoped he could catch up to her in time.

You walked down the quiet rainy street alone. Sighing to yourself, you check to see if your boyfriend had replied to your text but nothing has popped up. You had wondered what was going on with him during training. He seemed almost sad to hear what Aizawa was saying.

As you ponder, you start to hear a weird sound from above. Almost like tape. You looked up to see Sero descending down from the rooftop upside down while using his quirk. Like Spider-Man, huh. “Babe! I’m so sorry. I was caught up at the gym.” He stopped descending once he was at face level with you. Seeing you alone in the rain upset him. What if a villain saw you and took you?

You gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright but what I’m more concerned about is what happened during training.” You noticed how upset he had gotten after Aizawa was giving him advice. Sero’s expression was hard to read after the whole talk.

“I just...” Sero hesitates, “I just don’t think I’m qualified to be a hero if there’s already someone out there just like me.” He looks away in embarrassment while you frowned. Your boyfriend was never usually this insecure in front of you but you were glad he was opening up.

You motion him to look at you, “Don’t say that! Besides, Japan needs their own Spider-Man. It’s not like Spider-Man is gonna ditch The Avengers and move here.” You chuckled, earning a small laugh from the man in front of you. As cheesy as it sounded, it would be cool for Japan to have a hero similar to another hero that many people internationally look up to.

“I guess that does make me feel a little better. Thanks, babe.”

“And I believe there’s a hero in all of us.” You smirked as Sero gasped.

“Did you just quote Aunt May?”

“Maybe.”

Sero let out a small laugh before smirking. “You know the Spider-Man kiss?” Of course you did. Just by knowing the position your boyfriend was in and the dreary weather, it was all too obvious as to what he was referring to.

“Hmm...I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You give him a sarcastic look and crossed your arms.

Sero groaned at your teasing. “Shut up and kiss me- wait!” He reached for his helmet in his backpack before putting it on. “Okay, I’m ready.” What a fanboy.

You open the black visor protecting his face, revealing an excited Sero. How cute. “I love you, Sero.”

“It’s Cello- mmph!” You kissed him passionately as it starts to rain harder. This was a dream come true to the fanboy. Each time he watched the movie and that scene popped up, he wished for that day to come. Him hanging upside down from a building, An MJ to hold his face while she’s kissing him in the horrible rain. It was all too perfect for him and his quirk.

“Is that Sero and (Y/N)? Waitwaitwait, they’re doing that thing where- ow!” The romantic moment was interrupted by no one other than Denki Kaminari. The couple simultaneously looked at the direction of where the voice was coming from. There stood Jirou, Kaminari, and Kirishima from afar.

“Aw, that’s so cute. Sero is so manly for this.” Kirishima smiled and chuckled awkwardly. You looked away from your classmates in embarrassment while Sero ruffled your hair.

“We were in the middle of something!” Your boyfriend blushed. The group snickered as they shuffled away. “Now, where were we?”

#hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero x y/n #sero x y/n #sero x reader #hanta sero imagine #mha imagine #mha imagines

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remuswriting · 4 years

Text

next to you; u. keishin

Summary: Keishin Ukai wants to play with Y/N L/N no matter how hard he has to work for it.

Pairings: Keishin Ukai x Male! Reader

Warnings: Swearing and fighting

Word Count: 4,571

Notes: I’m not sure if what this is in terms of angst or fluff. I just wanted Ukai to get some more love, so I wrote him to be in high school. Like all my other things, I’m going to add that I’m new to writing reader inserts, so they may not be all that good.

*****

Y/N always glided down the court as if he could fly, and everyone watched him in awe. He was beautiful with the way he played, because he made everyone else feel so alive that they couldn’t help but want to grow as players or maybe even join volleyball. The ace should do that though, he should motivate others to thrive.

“Give it to me, Koichi-san!” Y/N called out, and the setter set it perfectly to where the h/c haired boy seemed to be flying. It the ball smashed into the ground, no blockers being able to touch it, and he grinned over at the setter. “Hell yeah!”

Keishin watched him from the sideline in awe, like he always did. The boy who flew around the court was something the buzzcut boy wished he could have. Whether it be in volleyball or in friendship or in love; he wished he could have him. Y/N’s smile brightened up the court, and everyone seemed to get even more motivated to do their best.

“I wish I could just play in a game so I can play with L/N-san,” Takinoue said, and some of the players around him agreed.

“He forces everyone to play harder,” Tamura said with a slight sigh. “It could be kind of exhausting to keep up with him.”

“Wouldn’t that be the thrill of it all?” Takinoue asked, excitement slightly in his voice. “You get to see how hard you can actually fight, because he will make you fight.”

Even though Keishin didn’t say anything, he agreed with his friend. Y/N forced people to fight on his level, because when everyone was with him; Karasuno was unstoppable. He had heard his grandfather say how it almost like a miracle to get the outside hitter, because no one flew like he did.

“Don’t give up now!” Y/N screamed at a player that Keishin couldn’t distinguished. There were five other people besides the spiker, so it was hard to realize who was being scolded. “When we win, then you can give up, okay?”

For a second year, the h/c haired boy acted more like the captain than the actual captain. When he looked over at the sidelines, e/c eyes catching Keishin’s brown ones, the setter felt a chill run down his back; the look in his eye could nearly be considered murderous.

Sometimes everyone wondered if Y/N would murder someone to win, and their coach once said it showed that at least someone was dedicated. Even if people knew this, they still wanted to play next to the h/c haired boy to feel the adrenaline he gave.

*****

It was a Friday when Y/N sought out Keishin during lunch. His hands were on his knees as he panted as if he had just ran a marathon. When he looked up at the buzzcut boy, Ukai was sure he would never forget the look in his eyes; desperate and hungry for something that would take the setter a while to fully understand.

“Set to me,” Y/N said as he stood up to look at the other in the eye. “I want to see how high I can fly with you.”

Keishin had been working hard, had even been complimented by his grandfather (who had even once said the only thing he hated was grandson) and everyone had been seeking him out to practice with. He just never expected their beloved ace to be so determined to practice with him as well.

“What if I’m not as good as Fujii-san?” He asked, and the outside hitter chuckled as he shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter who’s better; matters who makes it feel right.”

Ukai had been a spiker once, because he had to be, but it never appealed to him. He didn’t have the same rush that he hot when he saw someone perfectly spike the ball he set.

He noticed how Y/N’s eyes shined as if he had won the lottery every time he spiked one of the setter’s sets. His smile was always so big and contagious that the buzzcut boy found himself smiling too.

“Again,” Y/N demanded, something he did a lot. “Make me fly higher, Keishin.”

“Okay, L/N-san,” he said, his cheeks bright red and the spiker grinned at him as if he had been invited to be on the National Men’s Volleyball Team.

“Call me Y/N.” The spiker chuckled slightly. “It’s only fair, right?”

“Yeah, it’s only fair,” Keishin breathed out. “Now let’s make you fly higher.”

*****

Keishin wasn’t exactly the person who was used to setting to Y/N during practice matches. The beloved ace had been paired up with Fujii since their first year, because they could do attacks that the buzzcut setter could only wish of doing. When he did become used to setting to him during practice matches, they became unstoppable.

He’d watch Y/N stare at his red palm after a particularly strong spike before he’d clench his fist and look up at the setter. His eyes were desperate and hungry like the first time he had asked the other to set to him. Keishin felt so much pride that he never wanted any of it to end. He wanted to stay on the court with Y/N.

“You give Koichi-san a run for his money at times,” Y/N said as they took a break, only for the setter stared at him in confusement only for the h/c haired boy to chuckle slightly. “Don’t look at me like that and just take the compliment.”

Coach Ukai noticed the obvious connection between the two and moved Keishin to be a starter who was switching in and out with Fujii in games. The ginger always glared at the other, because everyone wanted to fight with Y/N, even if they never said. Or even refused to admit it.

“Don’t try to make a move on him,” Fujii said when the two setters were in the club room alone. Keishin wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by the statement. “It’s easy to get caught up in the way he acts when he’s on the court, but he doesn’t give a damn off it.”

“Why do you care what I do and what I don’t do?” Keishin asked as he stared over at the other, who gave him with an annoyed look.

“We all keep getting our hearts broken by him,” the ginger said as he ruffled his hair slightly. “We get our hearts broken without even realizing we were in love with him.”

The buzzcut boy froze, because he wasn’t in love with the h/c haired spiker. Admiration and love were two separate things, and he definitely wasn’t in love with L/N. The silence was filled by Fujii chuckling at the other.

“Don’t worry, you’ll realize it soon enough.” The other setter patted Keishin’s shoulder firmly. “You never know, he could fall in love with you too. He’s quite unpredictable.”

Keishin didn’t process Fujii leaving and that he was alone in the club room. He stared at his cubby with a frightened expression. He couldn’t be in love with Karasuno’s ace, because he was straight; they were both straight. There was that feeling he got in his stomach when they shared smiles after a particularly good spike. Or the way his heart clenched whenever Y/N wanted to eat lunch with him, especially when the spiker took him to the roof because “it’s the best place to eat obviously.”

He wasn’t in love with him and Y/N wasn’t going to be able to break his heart.

****

Keishin was taken off the court during a practice match, but this time it wasn’t like their temporary switch outs they had been doing. His grandfather had a stern look on his face, one that the buzzcut boy had only seen him give to other people when he gently scolded them.

“Keishin,” his grandfather started, and their male manager looked scared. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“What do you mean?” The setter asked, because he really didn’t know. He felt fine, and all of his sets to the spikers were fairly solid.

“You’re not able to keep up with L/N,” coach said calmly, which made it even scarier. “He demands his setter to reach his breaking point faster than he reaches his. You’re too close to yours and we’re barely halfway through the first set, so you started to falter.”

His grandfather could be right, probably actually was, but Keishin had no idea. Maybe he had started to be more cautious because the spiker had been feeling good today. When he felt good, the entire team was required to feel good too; it was how they won.

“Sorry, sir.”

“You’re out for the rest of the match,” Coach Ukai said, his grandson gritting his teeth at the statement. “Go watch Fujii and see how he’s able to keep up with L/N.”

When he went to where the rest of the benchwarmers were, they all looked at him so confused. He always sat on the bench next to their coach and manager. They all let him go behind them, crouch down, and watched him muffle a scream into his hand. He deserved to be on the court, even if he apparently couldn’t keep up with the spiker right now. Keishin would fight harder if it meant he could be on the same court as the other boy.

“Hey, you okay dude?” Takinoue asked as he approached him, and it seemed like he was the only one confident enough to do so.

“I’ve been taken out for the entire game,” Keishin said, and his voice sounded so at ease but his body language was so aggressive. The bleach blonde middle blocker gave him a look of understanding.

“You won’t be fighting next to L/N-san,” the middle blocker said. “You’re used to him by your side, hitting every set you do.”

The buzzcut boy didn’t make a comment, because he didn’t know what to say. It was true that it fucking sucked to not be on the court with Y/N, but it was more than that at the same time. He had started to work so hard to keep up with him; volleyball and school was all that he was he did so he could stay on the court. Was that what he was supposed to say? Was he supposed to admit that he wanted to be next to the outside hitter so badly that it killed him to have to sit out.

“Koichi, stop throwing the ball so fucking high!” Y/N screamed, causing everyone to look over at him as he got into the other’s face. “Just do it how Keishin does it, because I can actually hit it.”

“You hit that one though!” Koichi screamed back. “So, stop acting like you can’t.”

Coach Ukai had to call for a timeout and L/N refused to calm down. He screamed about how tired he was of Koichi trying to dictate how every spiker should play when they all weren’t the same person.

“Stop bitching and just hit the damn ball,” Koichi snapped, and the h/c haired boy looked over at him with a murderous expression.

“If we weren’t doing a match right now, I would’ve fucking decked you already.”

“Calm down right now, you two!” Coach Ukai yelled, and the two boys immediately became quiet. “Do I need to bench you, Y/N? Or are you going to behave?”

E/C eyes looked down at the ground before they looked back up at the older man. They held anger, resentment, and something else that no one knew what it was. Keishin knew the ace just wanted to play; wanted to win. He had told him that, confessed how he knew what he wanted to do on the court and he would fight until he no longer could to get there.

“Sorry, coach,” Y/N said softly. “I’ll calm down.”

He had to put his anger and preference aside so he could keep fighting; keep being on the court. When the timeout was over, L/N became a different person on the court. He encouraged Koichi and the rest of the players on a new level.

“He just wants to stay on the court and fight.”

****

Keishin found Y/N practicing in the gym alone every night after practice. The setter had been made the person to kick the ace out, because everyone said he had a way to get L/N to listen. He was fine with making the other second year leave, but no one realized that.

His brown eyes followed the spiker as he did jump serves, determined to make them service aces. Y/N was always growing and the setter wondered if he would ever stop. Part of him couldn’t actually comprehend the idea of the outside hitter not being able to improve when all he ever saw was him improving.

“Oh, Keishin, it must be time for me to leave if you’re here,” the h/c haired boy said with a sigh and a nervous smile. He never acted like this before, so what was going on?

“I can give you a couple more minutes if you’d like,” Keishin said as he leaned against the gym wall. “I’d join you, but I’m pretty exhausted after today’s practice.”

They had to run up the mountain near the school, because their endurance wasn’t good enough according to his grandfather’s opinion. Somehow the spiker in front of him didn’t seem to be tired in the slightest, and he was jealous of the energy he had.

“I’m done, so don’t worry,” Y/N said as he put the volleyball he had using. “It must be annoying for you to come get every night.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be our ace if you didn’t practice like you do.” Keishin paused as he looked from the floor to his teammate. “I don’t find it annoying; if I did, then I’d make someone else come get you.”

“Then why have you been acting like you no longer want to be on the same court as me?” The h/c haired volleyball player asked with a tilt of his head. “You even got yourself benched at the last practice match. Do you want to be a bench warmer again?”

Keishin didn’t move or talk, because he didn’t think the other would read so much into this. It made sense for him too, because Y/N had always been the person to somehow read people fairly well but let them still have their secrets. The setter wondered if maybe the other knew he was starting to fall for him. There was no beautiful explanation as to why, but just the fact it felt good to be near the other and he liked how the spiker laughed as well.

“Is it true you keep breaking our teammates hearts?” Keishin finally asking the question he had wanted to for weeks. Koichi’s words had clung to him as if they were clothes soaked by the rain.

“I wasn’t aware of doing that, so it must be unintentional if I was doing it,” Y/N said, his voice casual but eyes held a kind of vulnerability that scared the setter. “Only one person has confessed to me, so I guess I’ll take credit for that one. Is there a reason why you’re asking?”

“Someone warned me you’re too different off the court to actually fall in love,” The buzzcut boy said, and e/c eyes trailed his face as if he was searching for honesty in his features.

“I guess you could say I am two different people; one person on the court and another person off the court, but you need to be when it comes to sports,” Y/N said before he sighed, obviously not enjoying the conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, on the court, I know what I want and how I’m going to get it, but it’s different off the court because life isn’t made up of certain plays and combo attacks.” The ace walked over to the other to lean on the wall next to him. “I also don’t demand attention like I do on the court. I don’t want to be seen unless there’s a volleyball in my hand.”

“Is that why you break hearts? You don’t know what you want off the court, so you don’t know you want them,” Keishin said as he turned to face the other and noticed how there was little space between them. Maybe a foot, but that seemed so small when Y/N was next to you.

“I imagine I break hearts because I don’t want them,” Y/N said as he chuckled softly. “I know what I want, but I don’t have a play on how to get him to really notice me. It’s different when someone sees me as the person I am on the court, but not as the one I am normally.”

“You shouldn’t need a play to get him to notice you. You are kind of hard to miss.”

Y/N pouted as he pushed at the other’s shoulder. Blush covered his cheeks and Keishin wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh because Koichi had probably wanted at this at some point, but never did. Or at least never had according to the setter’s knowledge.

“Are you insulting me, Keishin?” The spiker asked, his pout only growing more and more.

“No, it’s a compliment, dumbass,” the setter said, only to get another shove at his shoulder from the nickname. “Sorry, let me say it again; it’s a compliment.”

“Well, if you keep complimenting me, I’m going to fall more in love with you.” The buzzcut student choked slightly at the comment. This was actually unexpected. “That was a bit forward, sorry. I guess this is a confession, even though you most likely don’t like me the same.”

“No, I do like you,” Keishin said as he scratched his neck and looked away from the other, not sure what to say. “It’s just kind of weird to like guys, since you’re the first one I’ve ever liked.”

“That’s okay, I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to,” L/N said, and even though the younger Ukai didn’t know if he believed him.

You force me to my limit every time we play together. You force everyone to play as hard as you do, even though all of us struggle to. Even though you know you demand attention on the court, do you know how much?

“Fujii told me I was useless to you now because I had been taken off the court,” Keishin said as he looked back at the other. “Told me that it was just heartbreak waiting to happen.”

The buzzcut boy had partly agreed with the ginger setter. Y/N had always seemed like the kind of person who refused to play with someone who wasn’t valuable to the team. He had acted like that with Keishin for the last year and a half, so why wouldn’t he act like that again?

“Koichi is just mad I rejected him as a setter and a boyfriend, so don’t listen to him,” the other said as he tilted his head to touch the gym wall. “Tell me, what do you want to do? About this, not anything else because this is the topic at hand.”

The setter chuckled at how the other clarified, obviously nervous. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen the other nervous, because Y/N was always confident in everything he was doing. Or that he had seen. The spiker always gave his all and it made him seem like he was overflowing with confidence.

“I’m not sure,” Ukai said softly. “What are our options.”

Well, there’s dating or just being friends. I’m fine with either. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Maybe Y/N really was different off the court, even though he had slightly already known that. Eating lunch every day with someone for two months made it obvious who they really were, even if it was just barely. It was so weird to think he wanted others to be comfortable when he was the person who forced others to do what he wanted.

“We can date,” Keishin said slowly. “I just don’t know if I want to be public about it.”

Y/N reached out and touched his shoulder, comforting him, and smiled at him.

“That’s fine,” he said, his smile so soft Ukai could feel it as if a feather touched him so delicately. “We can work up to it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Y/N dropped his hand and walked away before he turned to the other and clapped his hands. He then grabbed the container holding the volleyballs with an expectant look. The setter walked over to him and helped him put them all up.

“Let’s leave now,” the outside hitter told him, and he nodded before he grabbed the other’s hand for a moment before dropping this.

He was dating the ace of Karasuno and it was kind of crazy to him.

*****

It was 5 am when Keishin gets a call, and he grumbled slightly until he saw the caller ID. He ran a hand through his bleached hair, shocked at seeing the name on his phone. The coach answered it, realizing it won’t answer itself.

“Hello,” he said, voice groggy and rough from being woken up. There was rustling on the other side of line.

“Shit, I woke you up didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I needed to wake up soon anyways,” Keishin said, wishing he could see the person calling him. It had been years since they had seen each other, and the blonde missed the other.

“If you say so. I didn’t mean to though; I just forget Japan and the United Kingdom have different time zones.” A chuckle from the man on the other side of the line filled the coach’s ears. “I do have a reason why I called though, but I can call later if you want me to.”

Part of the blonde setter wanted to tell the other to call him later, because that meant he would get to hear his voice even more than he would if he didn’t. That was stupid, because he imagined the other had things to do most likely.

“No, it’s okay, Y/N,” Ukai said, the name felt weird to say since it had been so long.

“I found out through Yukinari that you’re the new coach of Karasuno,” Y/N said, and his voice seemed awkward, but it was probably because he lived in London now. “Were you planning on never telling me?”

“I was conned into it by the brat players,” Keishin said, and he knew that he was starting to love coaching the Karasuno team. “You never told me you finally published your novel.”

“My novel doesn’t mean shit compared to Karasuno going to nationals.” More rustling on the Y/N’s side, making the blonde wonder what he was doing. “Also, those first year’s quick attack is fucking insane.”

“You’ve seen our matches?” Ukai asked, not hiding the shock in his voice and the old outside hitter laugh slightly.

“Of course, I have. Makoto downloads the recordings they take at the tournaments and emails them to me.” More rustling and a sigh. “Katherine, I’m on the phone. Stop rolling around my bed. Sorry, my roommate is annoying.”

The rustling had been from Y/N’s roommate though. The old setter smiled, remembering how annoyed the other would get whenever he got on his bed. Always told him that his bed was a place for sleep and homework, not moving all over the place.

“No worries. So, you like our freak duo? Anything else the beloved ace likes from Karasuno’s national qualifying team.”

“Your ace, I think it’s Asahi, is crazy powerful. I wish I had been powerful like him. Also, that captain of yours holds the ground down so well, your grandfather would’ve loved him on his team. He would’ve loved all of them, especially your libero.”

Ukai wanted to say how it was the team that would’ve been able to keep up with Y/N; the team he deserved. He wanted to tell him how he had been so much more powerful than Asahi may ever be, but the other would only ever deny that. He denied every compliment after his ACL injury that took him out from the second half of their first set to the rest of the year. They lost and his grandfather always said it was because none of them had the drive or fire to compete without the injured outside hitter.

“I’m going to come to nationals,” Y/N said and it made Keishin choke on his own salvia. The h/c boy had been in Japan for nearly 10 years now after he moved to the United Kingdom to study abroad and then never came back. “Is that okay?”

“Of course!” Ukai exclaimed a little too loudly, excitement getting the best of him. “Maybe you could show them a few things.”

“I can try, but I’m really rusty. I’ll be in Japan for two weeks though. I can get work done there too, so it’s not a problem.” Y/N chuckled softly and Keishin could basically see him shaking his head. “I’ll also get to see you, so that’s a plus.”

Even after their breakup in their third year, Y/N was always flirty and somewhat affectionate with him. The blonde man assumed it was because the other didn’t want to actually breakup but being around someone so into volleyball when he couldn’t be was something that he just wasn’t able to do. Instead he had started writing, forced his ex-boyfriend to read everything he wrote, and ended up studying abroad in the United Kingdom for creative writing.

“It will be nice to see you,” Ukai admitted with a sigh. “You’ll have to talk to everyone we went to high school with though.”

A groan was heard on the other side of the line. Of course, the once beloved ace of Karasuno didn’t want to talk to anyone he had once played with.

“There was something else I wanted to tell you, still volleyball related, but not nationals,” the h/c haired man said, avoiding hearing who would be at nationals that he’d have to talk to. “Your freak duo, it’s Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou, right? I can’t remember who plays what position though.”

“Yeah, Kageyama is the setter and Hinata is a middle blocker, but mainly spiker,” Keishin said, unsure of what the other was about to say. “Why?”

“In a way, I was like Kageyama and you were Hinata.” A laugh that wasn’t Y/N was heard on the other line, which made Ukai assume it was Katherine. “I controlled the court like Kageyama does, but you were free like Hinata is. We made a really amazing team.”

“No, you’re wrong. You’re both of them and I bet you’ll see that when you come to nationals.”

Y/N chuckled slightly before he let out an irritated sigh. There was muffled talking and then a groan.

“Sorry, babe, I have to go. Katherine is complaining about being hungry. See you soon, okay?”

Ukai’s heart fluttered at the pet name he hadn’t heard in years. It made him feel stupid really to still be so affected by someone he hadn’t had real contact with in so long.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

The call ended and Keishin let out a deep breath as he grinned.

Y/N was coming back to Japan.

#ukai keishin #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu fic #ukai keishin x reader #ukai keishin x male reader #male reader insert #male reader

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