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honeekyuu · 5 months ago

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love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter two.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: kyoutani/kiyoko was not the side pair i expected to fall in love with but here you go

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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The two months that follow the start of the relationship between you and Tsukishima Kei can only be characterized as ‘ change ’.

You find your flow easily after that first week, the unspoken agreement made on the couch that night at the forefront of every interaction together. In order to make the relationship convincing, you both learn to play the part to the best of your abilities. You learn to lean into the expectations of the people watching you closely, playing into them and even surpassing them — because you can rely on your understanding of each other, the kind of familiarity that comes with 15 years of history.

You already know his regimented morning routine, because you were tortured into keeping the same hours as him in high school. You know that the muscle patches he prefers for his back are different than the ones he prefers for his shoulders, because it’s always been you who applies those patches to the places he can’t reach.

In the same way, Tsukki knows how you take your coffee — hot almond milk vanilla latte in the morning, always, followed by an iced oat milk mocha with two extra shots of espresso in the afternoon. He’d accidentally gotten you a hot mocha once and watched you wilt a little but drink it, anyway, and then he’d never done it again. He knows you prefer to study not in the library or at your department, but on the quad outside of some random administrative building, because you’d once called it the ‘perfect ratio of quiet, focus space and people-watching from afar’.

So, when people swoon and scream online about how someone had seen you tearing down the aisles of the nearest convenience store at 5am after Tsukki had pulled a muscle while out for a run — your hands picking out his patches without needing to think about it — you’re awarded the ‘ Great Girlfriend ’ points without really having earned them. And when Tsukki’s spotted ordering your complicated afternoon mocha without struggling — even asking them to remake it, because he’d tasted it and could tell it was regular milk — before wandering knowingly off to some random patch of grass by the Student Records Building, your Twitter DMs nearly break with the amount of people asking how you ‘ trained him so well ’.

What so few people realize, even though your long-time friendship is brought up so often in the media, is that you and Tsukki don’t do these things because you’re madly in love and have made the effort to learn the small, seemingly unimportant details about each other. You do them because they’re ingrained in your understanding of each other. You do them because there’s no alternative; Tsukki will only use Salonpas on his back, and you won’t drink anything with regular milk because it makes your stomach hurt. These are just the facts, but, for some reason, they seem to convince people that your relationship is real more than being seen on a date ever has.

In fact, the things you are learning about each other and teaching each other about are the larger, romantic details that people always assume come first. You learn that Tsukki’s default pet name for you is ‘ princess ’, but that, when he’s being intentionally antagonistic, he has a habit of bending down to your height and plastering a mocking smile on his face while calling you ‘ sweetheart ’. He learns that you show affection by feeding him, his arms always full of tupperware when he leaves your apartment and two – two, not one – lunches shoved haphazardly in his gym bag when you know he’s going to have a long training day.

And, of course, there is a lot to learn about each other physically. You have to learn how to walk with his hand in your back pocket or on your waist, because that’s how he likes to walk you to class. And he has to learn that, unless it’s a peck hello or goodbye, you tend to start with a kiss to his cheek — because you get too shy to flat-out kiss him without some kind of warm-up.

You learn that you like his hands very much, but that you like when he keeps eye contact with you more than anything. It’s in the way he beckons you to him after a game or in the way he watches you walk from the door of a cafe all the way to the seat he’s reserved for you. That, coupled with the contrast of him being rough with his blocks at practice but careful about moving your hair out of your face, guarantees that you need several long minutes to recover after a moment with him.

He learns that when you look up at him with those doe eyes he didn’t even know you had — he’s most familiar with your eyes when they’re mid-eye-roll — that it takes an absurd amount of self-control not to give you everything you want. And when you tie your hair up, especially on the hot afternoons sprinkled through the start of Fall, he has to tear his eyes away from the curve of your neck and physically sit on his hands to stop himself from touching the sliver of tummy that peeks out when your shirt lifts a little.

In private, of course, these things are never issues. In private, you are, for the most part, the same as you’ve always been: two friends who fight and laugh and keep an appropriate amount of distance between each other. Friends who get together on Friday nights to drink and watch bad TV. Friends who never need to think around each other, because that’s the best part about being friends.

It’s just that sometimes friends do need to keep things from each other �� which is something you’re both still learning to deal with.

When you try on new outfits and ask for his opinion, his scan of your body is cursory because he knows not to let himself linger on how this dress sits on your hips or how that shirt makes your boobs look. He’s careful not to let you catch him staring at your thighs, on display when you wear those cursed little pajama shorts. And he’s quick to always take the corner of the couch instead of sitting beside you, even though he itches to snake an arm around your waist and pull your side flush to his.

When he sits at his dining table, telling you about practice while you cook dinner in his and Yamaguchi’s kitchen, your biggest challenge is keeping your eyes off of his bare chest and wet hair, his skin still dewy and warm after his shower. When you write papers while sitting on your tiny, Twin XL bed and he comes over from the couch to bother you, you’re tasked with keeping your breathing even and your eyes firmly on your laptop, because there’s never enough space between you and you worry what you might do if you look at him. And when he checks the time and mumbles that he can stay for one more episode of your show – even though it’s almost always past midnight when he does it – you know to hide your smile behind your hand, because it’s expected that you’ll sigh and say ‘ just one more ’ like a normal friend.

In private, friends don’t unknowingly seek out reasons to brush against each other, and they don’t subconsciously wear less clothes around each other, only to chalk it up to being comfortable around each other.

But you don’t need to know that. And he doesn’t need to know that. Because as long as you both know the rules for being in private – “hands to yourself” – then everything else can be kept hidden.

In public, however, things are quite a bit different.

In public, you find yourself in a no-holds-barred relationship where nothing – nothing – is off limits.

In public, the boy who used to bring his collection of dinosaur figurines over to your house on the weekends is the same boy who now picks you up from class with a kiss and the promise of free ‘ girlfriend-discount’ coffee. The boy who wouldn’t share his crayons with you unless you promised your snacks to him – that’s the boy who shamelessly buys you a small wardrobe’s worth of Frogs merch with his name on it, tying your hair back with a neon green TK scrunchie and unironically presenting a set of green pajama shorts to you, his face printed on the left ass cheek.

The boy who’d sling mud into the hair of mean little girls who would put their hands on you.

That’s the boy who puts his hands on you now.

On the small of your back – a self-assured touch that guides you through a sea of flashing lights and reporters waiting at the entrance to the Frogs’ home gym. Slung around your waist – fingers hooked loosely into the belt loop on your hip while he stands with you at your favorite cafe’s self-order kiosk, his card already out. Tickling the inside of your thigh – the pad of his thumb drawing circles in your skin while he drives, his other hand reaching to cup your face so he can press his lips gently to yours at red lights.

Hidden under your shirt – fingertips kneading at all the plushest parts of your skin while he kisses you stupid at the front of an empty lecture hall, the door cracked open just slightly. Because – while it’s an obvious conclusion that any form of physical intimacy at home should be strictly off limits – the corner classroom on the top floor of your department that you know is unused at 2pm every day just so happens to walk a very fine line between public and private.

Public enough that you might be caught – as long as he’s not getting into fights , as Management is fond of reminding the two of you – and public enough that you sincerely see no issue with letting your best friend shove his tongue down your throat. Private enough, however, that you’re able to speak candidly to each other, even with your legs wrapped around Tsukki’s waist and his fingertips brushing across the underwire of your lacy bra.

That’s where you find yourself now, on a chilly Tuesday afternoon in the last week of October, after weeks of meeting up here. Your weight is supported by the table at the front of the lecture hall, skirt hiked up a little too high and hands curled into his hair. He’s bent over you, lips burning a path of bruises along the column of your throat while his hips, slotted between yours, keep your legs open and your skirt pushed up.

“You look good today,” He murmurs against your skin, your quiet panting the only other sound in the room. One of his hands is pressed firmly against your back, keeping you close to him, and the other is gripping your thigh, much higher than he really should be. But you can’t seem to mind, even when you feel the blunt edge of his nails scratch briefly along the line of your panties.

That’s the change you still haven’t gotten totally used to – the shiver of anticipation that’s started to run down your spine when he gets too close, the flip of excitement just under your navel when your body presses against his.

After years of not caring even a little bit about who he would take home from a party – about the rumors that would float around campus, whispered by girls who’ve gotten into bed with him – you’re facing the reality that is being attracted to Tsukishima Kei.

“Which part?” You mumble back absentmindedly, tightening your hold in his hair when he bites down on the crook of your neck, his tongue soothing the pain right away.

“Dunno,” He says, gripping your thighs and dragging your hips minimally closer to his. “I just really like this.” He thumbs at your skirt in explanation. Your body responds when he chuckles low, goosebumps breaking out all over your skin. “Giving me something to think about tonight.”

“You’re doing it again, Tsukki,” You joke, laughily breathily. He’d started doing that in the last couple weeks – making little comments like that. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. “I didn’t know celibacy would hit you this hard.”

He sighs against your skin, shaking his head. “There you go again, not believing me.”

There’s an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to. But you know well enough that you’re not his type, so you’re not sure what could possibly going on with him if not an extreme case of blue-balls after two months without sex. Somehow, even after everything you’ve done together the last few weeks, it seems silly to think he might genuinely want you. Surely not.

“Well, you’re a flirt, so I can never tell with you,” You say, entirely honest but playing it off like a joke. He stops kissing your throat and leaves his lips against your pulse, breathing hard.

“Name one time I’ve lied to you.”

You scratch your nails against his scalp. “It’s not that serious, Tsukki. I can take the joke.”

“Y/n-”

You laugh nervously into his shoulder, feeling him shift in annoyance. “What’s going on with you lately, huh?” Your insecurities peek through, and you’re stupid enough to act on them. “Should I let you off the leash for one night? To get it out of your system?”

It’s the wrong thing to say – even you know that.

His mouth leaves your skin before you realize what’s going on, one of his hands coming up to grip your face. You gasp, seeing that he’s glaring at you with those sharp, golden eyes.

“You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”

You blink up at him, your chest heaving. You want to look away, because, while you’ve seen that scowl before, it’s never been like this. And you know he won’t let you look away. His fingertips only tighten on your cheeks when you try, and he uses his grip to force you to shake your head.

“No, you don’t,” He whispers mockingly. “You don’t know. You just love to say shit that’ll piss me off.”

You have no idea what’s going on right now. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen this side of him. His condescending tone is nothing new – mocking jokes and rude comments are not new. But the way he’s treating you now is not that, and the way you’re reacting to it is not that. There’s something else, and you want so badly to blame it on anything that isn’t this newfound physical attraction to Tsukishima Kei.

Because there is absolutely no reason that the way he’s speaking to you should turn you on. No reason at all.

“Apologize,” He whispers, eyes steady on yours.

You blink stupidly, too distracted by the wave of heat that crashes over you. He lifts your chin toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Apologize, Y/n. For insulting me.”

“Did I insult you?” You bite weakly, your voice shaky and your heart pounding in your ears. You’re still his best friend. You’re still the girl who’s never backed down from a challenge. “Then you apologize too, for joking about being attracted to me.”

His eyebrow twitches with irritation. “What?” He hisses, clearly holding back.

“‘s not nice to mess with me like that, Tsukishima,” You say, your confidence shrinking by the second. You can’t handle much more of this – the way he’s grabbing you, the way he’s glaring at you.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t place when you say his name. You’ve noticed that, too. That he reacts when you use his full name. You don’t know why, or if it’s even conscious.

He scowl twists into a sneer. “You know, you’ve been really fucking annoying recently.” His eyes light up when you gasp, and he leans down, releasing your face in favor of planting both hands on the desk behind you, caging you in. “Making all these little jokes. Downplaying the shit I say to you.”

“Well, you’ve been particularly horny recently,” You say, some of your sense coming back now that he doesn’t have a literal hold on you. “Gotta keep reminding you that it’s me you’re dealing with.” You brush some of his hair out of his face, your touch gentle. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“I thought I told you to get over that,” is all he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There’s still heat behind it, but he mostly just looks frustrated.

“It’s not that easy,” You whisper back, your nose brushing his. “Especially not with the whole world reminding me that I’m nothing like the girls before me.”

So maybe you’re still a little sensitive about the 16-tweet thread someone had made last week, comparing photos of you and photos of all of Tsukki’s exes and one-night stands. He’d gotten the account banned before you’d even looked through all of the tweets, but there are still 13 side-by-sides haunting you when you close your eyes.

“Of course you’re not like them,” He says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t remember half of their names.”

You give him a deadpan stare. “Charming.”

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I don’t have a type?” He still hovers over you, close enough that you see the honesty sitting in his eyes. “Yeah, I have a type. All those other girls look the same to me.”

And then he grabs at your thighs, fingers familiar on your skin. You squirm, but he holds tight. “But that doesn’t mean I’m forcing myself to put my hands on you.” He squeezes you, tugs at your skirt and threads his fingers through your hair. “Doesn’t mean I’m putting myself through hell to do this to you.” He tightens his grip and tilts your head to the side, and you realize he’s talking about the fresh hickies on your neck.

He lets you go, standing tall and towering over you. You crane your neck back to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to the hollow of your throat. Your heart jumps when he lifts a hand and rests it there, fingers flexing loosely around the front of your neck.

That’s new.

“You think I would drag you in here and lay you back on this desk every week if I thought you were ugly?” He whispers, eyes a little clouded as he looks you over. You, with your legs still spread and wrapped around his waist. With your chest heaving and your eyes blown wide, surprise written all over your face. With your throat in his hand and no indication that you wouldn’t want it there.

“God,” He laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re so stupid, Y/n. Two months and you still think like this.” When you only sigh shakily, unsure what to do with this conversation, he tightens his hold on your throat. His eyes are lit up like sunlight, warm but quick to burn if you make the wrong move. “Looks like I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

What?

“Tsukki-” “Y/n.”

You both jump, turning to the door. Nariko is rushing into the room, but, when she sees the precarious position the two of you are in, she respectfully averts her eyes.

“Nariko,” You gasp, sitting up. Tsukki’s quick to pull your skirt down over your thighs and help you down.

“Time for our daily dose of Sendai Sports ,” He sighs, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry-I-” Nariko’s got her hand over her eyes, her camera hanging uselessly at her side. She very well could have snapped a photo of you two in that moment, but she’d chosen not to.

You’re infinitely glad it’s her that had walked in.

“The other reporters figured out that you didn’t stay at the cafe after your class. They’re on their way back here now.”

You’d walked across the street after class to get your iced coffee and study at a corner table, but you’d snuck out the back when Tsukki had texted you to meet him here. Your coffee sits, untouched and lukewarm, on a nearby desk.

Nariko’s the only one who’d seen you re-enter the building, and that’s because she’d snuck out the back of the cafe with you, the woman a frequent companion over the months. She hadn’t asked any of the questions she’s probably paid to ask when you’d gone in the side door of your department, and she’d conveniently stopped to tie her shoes you’d said you needed to take care of something on the top floor and gotten on the elevator.

You collect your bag from the floor quickly, tossing the coffee away as you fix your appearance.

“Damn it.” You look to Tsukki, who seems less annoyed with Nariko now that she’s made it clear she’s here to help. “We have to go out the back.” And then you look at Nariko, having accepted long ago that this woman feels like an older sister. “Is my makeup okay?”

She looks you over, starting to nod, but then she spots the bruises on your neck. “Uhm…”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not happy about it, either.”

“ You were at the time ,” Tsukki mutters under his breath. You elbow him hard, and Nariko sniffs in order to cover her laugh. She still knows better than to get comfortable with him.

“You’re fine,” She says, glancing out the door. “But you should go now. They were coming in through the front just as I was getting to the elevator, and it’ll be obvious what you were doing if they find you. It’s better to be caught running and have the reason be implied – photos of your smeared makeup and wrinkled shirt will always look bad.”

“You said I looked fine!” You laugh, grabbing Tsukki’s hand and dragging him out the door. You’re both halfway down the hall to the far door, jogging hand in hand, when you hear the shutter of her camera. You turn back, finding her smiling playfully.

“I still have a job to do, you know!”

Your laughter echoes through the hall, and even Tsukki’s smothering a grin as you take the stairs to the fire exit. You rush with him across the quad, a few people spotting you and taking blurry pictures. You make it to his car in record time, your shared laughter growing when he drives by a group of reporters looking around the quad in confusion.

He drives you back to your apartment, the tension between you eased significantly. But it’s still there, lingering in your mind.

What had he meant when he said he would prove you wrong?

“Tsukki,” You say when he’s stopped at the red light near your apartment. “Earlier, when you said you would prove me wrong… What did you…” You trail off, wondering if you’re really ready to hear his answer.

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you think that maybe he’s not going to speak at all.

“There’s a party on Saturday night – after the game,” He says abruptly, and you have no clue what this has to do with anything.

“Okay?”

“Wanna go?”

“Oh.” You blink. “Isn’t Saturday Halloween?”

“Conveniently enough.”

“Sure. Should-” You clear your throat, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. You’re not sure if things are the same with him after what had happened in the lecture hall, and you’re definitely not sure why he won’t answer your question. “Should we dress up?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Am I allowed to go as a player for the Sendai Frogs?”

“Oh, God,” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Way to be cliche.”

“Fine. You pick the costumes, and I’ll buy them.” He pulls into your lot, right up to the permanent group of reporters that just sit outside your apartment all day. The flashing lights start almost immediately, and he leans over the middle console, stopping you from getting out of the car.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, and you already know that the photos being taken are capturing the line of hickies on your throat. He smirks when you give him a knowing look, only leaning in and pushing his lips against yours.

When he leans away, his gaze falls to your throat. He takes in the skin there, his thumb brushing over the already-purple marks. And then he meets your eyes, that dominant look from earlier peeking through again. Your breath catches when you see it, but he only narrows his eyes when he sees you searching his face. His thumb taps twice against your throat.

“Don’t cover these up.”

You swallow, brows furrowed. “Why?”

He leans in, planting another quick kiss on your mouth. “How about you go look in a mirror? Might help.”

You suppose that’s as close to an answer as you’re going to get tonight.

–

You start to realize that maybe Tsukki hadn’t been fucking with you.

When you stare into your bathroom mirror every morning for the rest of the week, fixing your hair and clothes and makeup but leaving the skin on your throat untouched, you start to enjoy seeing the bruises there. These little reminders that it had been him that had put them there, that he had done this to you of his own free will. It makes you wonder if maybe he feels the same way when he sees them on you.

You get the feeling he does. His eyes flick to the purple bruises when he picks you up on Wednesday and every day after – the corner of his lips tug up, like he’s smug that the evidence is still there. Like he’s glad to show you off, those marks on your skin more of a claim on you than most forms of PDA.

The photos of you go a little viral for a few hours that first day, with the accompanying mix of supportive and hateful comments.

[2:33 PM] tsukkiyn4life : LOOK AT HER!!! I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE !!!!!!

[3:04 PM] keisolostan : god shes such an attention whore lmao, concealer exists girlie

[3:25 PM] sendaiynfan : no bc him marking his girl up like that is so tsukki-coded. bbygirls so lucky

[4:17 PM] tsukkisgirl : the way i would just pretend she doesnt exist if i saw that fine ass man in the wild

[4:29 PM] frogsfan101 : she cant even make hickies look good, jesus. so trashy

You’ve learned that you’re not strong enough yet to ignore how those tweets make you feel, so you keep your notifications off for the week. Unfortunately, Tsukki handles haters a little differently – he’s using his new media presence to retweet hateful comments with even worse responses, things along the lines of ‘ you seem like one of those girls who jumpscares guys when she takes her makeup off’ and ‘ is one of your parents absent, by chance? just wondering’ .

Management’s not in love with him using his platform like this – because he’s been doing it from the very beginning – but it turns out that Tsukishima Kei fans are eating this particular incident up, his popularity skyrocketing with every new instance of brutally defending his girlfriend online. Fan accounts create Twitter threads of every heinous thing he’s ever said, and you even see that one of his responses is trending by Thursday afternoon–

‘ maybe put down the thirst account dedicated to my hands and go touch grass – my hands are a little busy with yn anyway :))’

He’d attached a photo that he’d taken on Tuesday morning in his car. Your bare legs are in the frame, the hem of your skirt barely visible. His hand is wrapped around your thigh, fingers kneading at your skin. Your manicured hand – seen in other photos this week – rests on his wrist, making it clear that it is indeed you.

Tsukki had made it his wallpaper, the time stamped across your knee in that photo he’d attached to the tweet.

You sit at the edge of your bed your face in your hands. You can’t tell if you want to kiss him or kill him. Your phone buzzes with an incoming call, and you lift it to your ear without looking.

“If you’re not Shimizu Kiyoko, please hang up.”

“ You cheating on me? ”

Your eyes fly open. “You stupid fucker.”

Tsukki laughs on the other end. “ So, you’ve seen my tweet, then .”

“Are you kidding me? Why did you make that your wallpaper? Why did you post it?” You groan, throwing yourself back on your bed. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“ Which part? Because I’m personally a fan. ”

“Yeah, of course you are. It’s not your thighs all over the internet right now.”

“ Well… ”

You roll your eyes. You’d forgotten about all the thirst accounts – his hands, his thighs, his shoulders, his eyes. There’s even an account solely dedicated to every time his shirt rises a little bit during a game.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. You win. What do you want?”

His laugh sends a little shiver down your spine. “ Have you decided what we’re wearing on Saturday? ”

“Shit,” You breathe. “I forgot.”

“ Let’s decide now, then. I’ll order overnight shipping .”

You roll over, the embarrassment of Tsukki’s tweet still heating your cheeks but otherwise pushed aside. You pull up different costume websites, searching through their options and describing them to him.

“We could be ketchup and mustard bottles.”

“ Was that a serious suggestion? ”

“How about Beauty and the Beast ?”

“ I want you to turn on Facetime and say that again with a straight face. ”

It goes on for the better half of an hour, Tsukki shooting down every choice. In his defense, though, you are suggesting absurd couples’ costumes.

“ For fuck’s sake, Y/n, pick something normal! ” He finally snaps, amusement lacing in his voice.

You laugh loudly into your pillow. “I can’t find anything! The only normal couples’ costumes are all super sexy.”

“ Okay, good! Finally, fuck. That’s normal! ” He sighs loudly through the receiver. “ What do they have? ”

You scroll carefully through the images of sexy pairings, trying to find the least humiliating thing.

“Wow, this is terrible.”

“ Use your words, sweetheart, ” He taunts, and you’re glad he can’t see how your face warms.

“Sexy nurse and doctor,” You start, hearing him hum in contemplation. “Cat and dog-”

“ Christ ,” He mutters. “ That one’s bad. ”

“Butler and maid,” You continue. “Teacher and schoolgirl– Ew -”

“ Wait, wait, go back ,” He interrupts. “ Butler and maid’s not bad .”

“Tsukki,” You laugh. “This skirt is so short that I can see the model’s ass cheeks.”

“ Send it to me. It can’t be that bad. ”

You text him the link, scrolling through other options while he opens the website.

“ Whoops, ” He says after a few minutes. Your heart stops, because you know that tone.

“What did you do?” You ask, groaning when he just laughs.

“ I accidentally bought it- ”

“Accident, my ass!”

“ Yes, definitely, ” He agrees. “ Definitely your ass – that much is true. ”

“Tsukki!” You complain. “You don’t even know my size!”

“ Yes, I do. ” He sounds mildly affronted. “ I pay attention. ” When you just bury your face in your pillow and sigh, he mutters a comment to himself. “ And I will certainly be paying attention to you in this outfit. ”

“I’m going to kill you.”

–

“I’m going to kill him.” You stare at yourself in the mirror on Friday night, wondering how much of a chance you have of getting out of this party.

The maid costume is as short as you’d predicted. To his credit, Tsukki had, in fact, known your size. But the skirt is so short that you can feel the cold air against your ass, even in the tiny shorts that had come with the outfit. It’s also snug around your tummy, the corset tight and pushing your breasts up until they start to spill out of the top a little bit.

You snatch your phone off the couch, Facetiming Tsukki with annoyance rising in your chest.

He’s at the Frogs’ gym when he answers, the screech of tennis shoes on the gym floor loud and the sound of Kyoutani and Koganegawa bickering even louder.

“ Hey-Woah- ” Tsukki’s eyes go wide when he sees the little maid’s bonnet on your head. “ Outfits came in, huh? ”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” You say resolutely. You haven’t shown him the full dress, keeping the camera on your face. But you see his eyes drop to the lacy choker that peeks into the frame, interest lighting up his eyes.

“ Am I gonna need to be alone to see this? ” He asks, his gaze still on your throat.

“No fucking point in that, Tsukishima,” You snap, catching the flick of his eyes to yours before he drops them again. “The whole school’s gonna see my tits and ass tomorrow night, anyway.”

“ I’m sure you’re exaggerating, ” He says, but you can see him moving off to the side anyway, his back against the wall so no one can see what he’s looking at. “ Lemme see, princess .”

“Don’t you dare sweet-talk me, Kei. I’m upset with you.”

“ Yeah, I know. It’s kind of hot .”

“Tsukki!” You stomp your foot, knowing he’s heard it when he laughs.

“ Show me, damn it! I only have two more minutes of break! ”

You sigh in irritation, swallowing the nerves that have been building up and flipping the camera to show the mirror.

“See? It’s too short, Tsukki.” You turn side to side slowly for a minute, wondering why he’s not responding. He just stares, eyes wide and flitting all around the screen. “Please say something,” You whisper, frowning at the mirror.

“ Don’t- ” He finally says, swallowing. “- pout at me like that .”

You frown harder. “Can we get something else?”

“ No, absolutely not, ” He laughs weakly. “ And I will pay you any amount of money to wear that on a regular basis. ”

“God, I want to kill you so much right now,” You sigh, turning to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look!” You point at where the skirt ends in the back, the little shorts peeking out. “Look at that! My whole ass is out!”

“ Oh, I’m looking ,” He says, nodding. “ Face forward again for me, princess. There’s something I wanna see there, too .”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s talking about how your breasts sit in the dress. “Celibacy is not a good look on you, Tsukki-”

“ Don’t make me come over there, Y/n ,” He says, his voice distracted but clearly annoyed. You just laugh, hoping he can’t see the flush in your cheeks.

“What’re you gonna do, Tsukki? Come over and just look ?”

“ Why? Will you let me? ”

Your stomach flips, and you accidentally let out a high-pitched laugh, laced with nerves. “You’re stupid.”

He’s already smirking, seeing right through you. “ I wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures… ”

You shake your head furiously. “No way. Uh-uh. I don’t need this ending up on Twitter, too.”

“ You’re funny, thinking I’d ever let anyone see you like this. ”

“Hello?” You wave your arm in the mirror. “Party tomorrow? Whole school? Remember?”

“ It’ll be dark, and everyone will be drunk ,” He says, still staring at your chest. “ And you’ll be with me. No problem. ”

“I hate you.”

“ Yo, Tsukki- ” Kyoutani’s voice appears way too close to the phone, and you gasp, turning the camera away from the mirror. “ We gotta get back. ”

“ What? ” Tsukki presses the phone quickly to his chest, the screen only showing his white t-shirt. “ Okay. ”

There’s a silence, followed by Kyoutani’s suspicion. “... What’re you looking at? ”

“ Nothing. ”

“ Is that Y/n? ”

“No. Yes. Go away.”

“Holy shit, were those her nudes?”

You curl up on the couch, waiting for death to take you away.

“ No, you fucking idiot-”

“Tsukki’s looking at nudes! ” Kyoutani calls, his voice echoing throughout the gym. You groan, hearing their teammates start to clap and cheer, varied versions of ‘ let’s go, Tsukki! ’ audible through the phone.

“I’m gonna burn this dress,” You mutter, Tsukki’s face finally coming back into view.

“ Don’t even think about it. I’ll be there in an hour. ” He’s moving across the room, and the last thing you see before he hangs up is his hand coming down on the back of Kyoutani’s head.

–

By the time he gets to your apartment, you’ve already changed back into normal clothes, the dress laid out on your bed. He eyes it when you let him in, clearly interested.

“No chance of seeing it again tonight?”

“Not even a little one,” You say, unpacking the Chinese food he’d picked up. “And you better put that thought away, because I invited Kiyoko and Yamaguchi over.”

He groans dramatically, despite knowing fully well that this is always the plan on Friday nights. “How am I supposed to seduce you with them here?”

You shove a few cans of beer into his hands, waving him back to the living room. “You don’t. That’s why I invited them.”

Just on time, there’s a knock at your door. Tsukki lets them in with a loud sigh.

“You guys are interrupting my maid time.”

Kiyoko stands in the doorway, eyes on yours and disgust curling her lip. “Should we come back later?”

You laugh, beckoning them to the couch. “He’s mad about my costume for tomorrow.”

“God damn , Y/n!” Yamaguchi exclaims, seeing the outfit on your bed. “That might as well be lingerie.”

“Hey,” Tsukki says, snapping his fingers. “Only I get to look at the lingerie, you sick fuck.” He stands, shoving the dress away in your closet. Yamaguchi meets your eye with a grin as he takes the armchair.

“You two are nice and flirty tonight.”

Kiyoko takes the end of the couch, leaving you in the middle. “He’s in rare form,” She agrees, smirking knowingly. You just roll your eyes.

“I think he’s in heat or something. He needs to see a doctor.”

Tsukki throws himself down beside you, sighing. “Let’s talk about something else before I throw you two out so I can see it on her.”

Yamaguchi’s quick to choose a movie, and you spend the first ten minutes elbowing Kiyoko because she won’t stop snickering under her breath.

The night passes normally, the movie bad and the food good. The normal amount of laughter is shared, and the normal amount of drinking happens. There are no deviations from every other Friday night.

No deviations, that is, except for the hand that Tsukki slides between your blanket-hidden thighs sometime after his second beer. Your breath catches, and you have to feign a cough when Kiyoko glances at you in confusion.

You look up at Tsukki in alarm – his eyes are lidded and he’s staring at the TV like nothing’s out of place. But you know he knows exactly what he’s doing, because his fingers knead at the plush skin of your inner thigh, and his thumb traces delicate circles into your leg.

You wait until there’s a loud explosion on the screen to whisper up to him. “ What are you doing? ”

“ Nothing ,” He breathes. “ Just watch the movie. ”

You are unable to do anything of the sort, alcohol thrumming in your veins and your attention wholly captured by the drag of his fingertips against your skin. You shiver when his nails scratch gently at the underside of your thigh, and you hear him breathe out a quiet laugh. Your hand curls around his wrist when you feel his fingertips accidentally brush a little too high, a little too close to the hem of your shorts.

“ I think you need to drink water ,” You mutter to him. He doesn’t respond, only finding the hem again. Your stomach fills with butterflies, because there’s no way to call that an accident, especially when he shifts his hand up and slips his fingers past the edge of your shorts. Your skin bursts out in goosebumps, and your other hand flies to his knee, his sweatpants curled up in your fist.

“ Tsukki, ” You hiss, spotting the smirk that pulls at the edge of his lips.

He squeezes your thigh one last time before drawing his hand away, and then he stands from the couch, mumbling to the group. “Gonna get water.”

Your heart races in your chest the entire time he’s gone, but you just scoot close to Kiyoko and lean your head on her shoulder. She glances down at you briefly, attention still on the terrible acting on the screen.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, swallowing hard. “All good.”

Your phone buzzes on the couch, and you glance at it subtly.

[10:52 PM]

Tsukki: come here.

Those butterflies in your navel explode, and your legs shake when you stand from the couch. “ Water ,” You mumble pathetically, all but stumbling around the corner.

He’s leaning against the counter, a cup of water in his hand and another sitting beside him on the granite. He says nothing while you reach for it, only keeping his eyes on yours. You swallow, the eye contact clouding your thoughts a little.

“Tsukki,” You whisper, pleading silently for him to explain what’s just happened. He just puts the cup down and turns, leaning in and trapping you against the corner of the counter. You stare up at him with wide eyes, clutching the cup to your chest.

“What, Y/n?” He sighs, refusing to look away. “What are you confused about?”

“Why you touched me-”

“No, sweetheart,” He laughs quietly. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I haven’t touched you yet. Not at all.”

Your face flushes, in full view for him to see, and you watch a smile form on his lips. You swallow hard, fighting to keep your wits about you. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

He levels you with a look of disbelief. “Two beers is hardly too much.”

“I-” Your eyes flick between his, trying to find something – anything – that will tell you what’s going on.

But Tsukki just lets his gaze drop to your lips. You genuinely consider letting him kiss you.

Yamaguchi’s voice rings out from around the corner, full of amusement.

“ You two better not be fucking in there! ”

You jump, sloshing water on your shirt. Tsukki just takes a step back, watching you as you fumble to dry it, your face an unflattering crimson red. You leave the room when you’re done, not strong enough to meet his eyes.

You stumble back to the couch, nearly landing in Kiyoko’s lap when you throw yourself down. You can feel her looking at you, but you just hug her arm to your chest and hide your face in her shoulder, your water left unattended on the table. She says nothing, and Tsukki returns a moment later.

He sits a safe distance away for the rest of the night.

–

You sit in bed for hours the next morning, staring at the ceiling until it’s getting a little too close to the time that Yamaguchi said he’d pick you and Kiyoko up.

What are you supposed to do about Tsukki? Is he going to do that again? Is all the work you’ve put in to hide your attraction to him just going to crumble away? What’s going to happen if he figures out that he affects you the way he does? Is he going to laugh in your face, or will he reject you nicely?

A quiet ding rings out next to your head. You jump, worried that it’s Yamaguchi saying he’s here already, and reach for your phone.

[11:09 AM]

Tsukki : stop thinking so hard about this

Your heart clenches, and you’re overwhelmed with a need to hear his voice. To figure this out now, before you go insane.

You press call before you can think about it. He answers on the second ring.

“ Y/n? ”

“I don’t know how to stop thinking so hard,” You say, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting there. “I’m not good at that.”

“ I know. You never have been. ”

“I just…” You chew on your bottom lip. “We had rules that I could follow. And now I don’t know what the rules are.”

“ No rules, Y/n. We don’t need rules. ”

“We do!” You cry, pulling your knees up to your chest. “We do, or else I’m going to get confused.”

“ What’s so confusing? ” He sounds frustrated. “ That I think you’re hot and want to put my hands on you? Or that you like when I do? Which part is confusing? ”

Your breath hitches. He…

There’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Tsukki-”

“ Don’t fucking brush off what I just said ,” He snaps. “ Don’t do it. ”

You swallow. “I just… It’s just hard to believe.”

“ Look. ” He sighs roughly. “ You trust me, right? ”

“Yes. Obviously,” You rub at your brow, your head starting to hurt a little. “But I’m not your-”

“ Fuck who my type is, Y/n! It doesn’t matter! ”

“It does matter!” You say, growing overwhelmed. “It matters , Tsukki! What if I…” You sigh, giving up.

“ What if you what? Say it.” When you don’t, he finishes your sentence for you. “ What if you what , Y/n? What if you fall for me? ”

“Yes.” You curl your fingers into your sheets, nerves flooding your system. “What if I fall for you, Tsukki? That’s a real possibility, and it’s stressing me out, because I don’t want to lose you.”

He’s silent for a moment, a moment where your whole world crashes down on you. You’ve said too much, then. You’ve said too much, and he’s trying to figure out how to let you down.

You whisper into the phone, trying to find some way to fix this. “Tsukki-”

“ Don’t, ” He snaps. “ Give me a second. I’m trying very hard not to pick a fight with you right now. ”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“ Y/n, you’re so fucking- ” He sighs angrily. “ What is with you and thinking that it is just completely impossible that this could be reciprocated? ”

You stare down at nothing, speechless. His voice is sharp when he speaks.

“ I know you have body image issues, and that there are assholes everywhere making it worse. But you fucking suck at listening to me. I’m sitting here telling you I’m attracted to you, and you can’t be fucking bothered to hear me. ” He lets out a breath, and you wonder why it sounds kind of nervous. “ It is a real fucking possibility that I fall for you, too. I’m telling you to just trust me , Y/n. We will deal with whatever happens – whenever it happens – but I can’t keep doing this with you. You ignore the shit I say and act like I’m doing you a fucking service every time I breathe in your direction. Cut it the fuck out. ”

Your lip trembles, your eyes prickling with tears. “You’re kind of mean, you know that?”

“ Yes, I know that. And you’re kind of annoying. ”

“I know.”

He sighs on the other end. “ We don’t need rules, Y/n. If we keep going back and forth like this, we’re not gonna convince anyone we’re together. Stop fucking thinking so hard and just do what you want. ”

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it’s terrifying.

You don’t respond, just wiping your eyes pitifully.

“ Listen, ” He pauses, letting out a breath. There’s less heat in his voice now. “ I have to go. ”

“Oh,” You say, sitting up and peering into the kitchen for the time. “Shit, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“ It’s fine. It was important. ” There’s a creak of a door on the other end, and then noise fills the receiver as he enters the next room, likely filled with his teammates. “ But… You’ll still be here, right? ”

“Of course,” You say weakly, standing. “But I gotta get ready in the next two minutes, or Yamaguchi will leave my ass behind.”

His laugh is quiet, and it eases your heart more than it should. “ Alright. Just… think about it.”

You stare down at your phone for a moment after he hangs up, still processing what’s just been done. What he’s just admitted to you.

And then Yamaguchi does text, and you forget all about these complicated feelings in your rush to get dressed. But, once you’re safely in the back seat and idly listening to Yamaguchi and Kiyoko ramble about nothing in particular, you get lost in your thoughts, coming to terms with everything he’d said.

You text him. Because he deserves an answer.

[11:42 AM]

You : meet me outside in ten?

He doesn’t respond, but he is standing outside when you and your friends arrive. He’s past the barricade, still being photographed but out of earshot and safe from the reporters’ questions. You rush up to him, seeing that Kiyoko is tugging Yamaguchi in the other direction, the freckled boy clearly confused about why he can’t say hi to his roommate. He seems to understand after a moment, his quiet ‘ Oh! ’ fading in the distance as Kiyoko pulls him inside.

You shake your head, turning back to Tsukki. He’s already looking at you expectantly, so you sigh and plant your hand on his chest, ignoring the camera flashes behind you.

“I thought about it,” You say, your voice quiet. He visibly perks up, shifting his weight and watching you carefully. “And… it’s going to take a lot of convincing, Tsukki.” When he furrows a brow, you swallow. “I just- There’s a lot that I won’t be able to believe right away. I’ve got my own shit, and all the negative attention doesn’t help. But I’m going to try, because I do trust you.”

He seems to realize where this is going – his eyes search your face, but you cut him off as he’s opening his mouth to speak.

“I’m going to try,” You repeat. “I’m going to try this without rules.” You watch as his face changes, not quite a smile but definitely pleased.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I know you’re right. And it’s not okay for me to keep doing this to you.” Your fingers curl into his shirt, and you sigh. “But, Tsukki, for fuck’s sake, if I fall for you and you don’t let me down nicely, I will fucking kill you.”

“God, I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” He laughs. “You’re fucking insane.”

You roll your eyes, using your grip to pull him down to you. His gaze drops to your lips, and you lean forward, closing the distance.

“ Good luck today ,” You whisper against his mouth. Both his hands cup your face, and you’re forced up onto your tiptoes as he rises to full height. The air is filled with the sound of camera shutters, but you just cling to the front of his uniform. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, and you whisper one last comment.

“And you better not be expecting me to put out tonight just because my costume’s skimpy.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head as he kisses you again.

“Damn. Now I’m too distracted to play.”

–

“Does this look okay?” You ask, stepping out of the bathroom. Kiyoko’s touching up her hair in the mirror by the door, her nurse’s outfit and your maid’s outfit equally short. She eyes you in the reflection, and then her pigtails swing as she spins in place to face you.

“Wow. You look so slutty.”

You give her an exasperated look. “Do I? Are my tits out?”

“Incredibly out,” She says, staring at how they spill out of the corset. She gestures for you to turn in place, whistling low when she spots how short the skirt is. “Oh, yeah. Tsukki’s gonna love you in this.”

Your face heats. “ Yeah, I know, ” You mumble to yourself, but you know she’s heard it when you meet her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“I, uh-” You scratch at your nose. “-showed it to him already.” When she only lifts her brows in disbelief, you look away. “Yesterday. I tried it on and called him.”

“Jesus, Y/n,” She says, laughing. “You might as well just fuck him already.”

“No!” You cry, hiding your face in your hands. “Things are still the same! They’re just-” You smile lamely. “-a little blurry now.”

“Holy shit,” She says, stepping up to you. Her face is lit up with surprise. “You actually want to fuck him.”

“Hey! You can’t just put it like that!”

“Does he want to fuck you?”

“Kiyoko!”

“Oh, my God, he does!”

There’s a knock at the door, and you have to cover Kiyoko’s mouth with your hand so that Tsukki and Yamaguchi don’t hear her yell ‘ You guys are totally gonna fuck tonight! ’.

When you yank the door open, Yamaguchi’s jaw drops.

“Holy-” He glances over your shoulder, seeing Kiyoko, too. “ Holy- ” He sputters. “You two look so fucking good!” He gestures down at himself, his zombie outfit not slutty in the least. “I look so bland now!”

Kiyoko reaches for the side table in the living room, withdrawing a pair of scissors. She snaps them twice, staring down at Tadashi’s ripped, fake-blood-covered pants. “We can change that, if you want.”

The freckled boy eyes her with suspicion, but it grows quickly into excitement. “Is it bad that I wanna say yes?”

You laugh, pulling him into your apartment. “Go, Yamaguchi. Release your inner slut.”

He giggles, following Kiyoko to the bathroom, and you’re left with Tsukki. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound sending a shock of electricity down your spine. You turn in the foyer, finding him hovering over you. The tux for the butler’s outfit fits him perfectly, down to the tie and white silk gloves. His blond hair is gelled in a side-part, a single piece of hair falling between his eyes.

“Hi. You look nice,” You croak, still recovering from the conversation this morning.

All throughout the game, you’d been struck, in waves, by the reality of what he’d said to you. That he’s attracted to you, that it’s okay for you to be attracted to him, too. You’d watched him move on the court – his brow furrowed, his eyes sharp, his blocks strong – and you’d been overwhelmed by just how attractive he is. Like there’d been some kind of wall there before, keeping you from experiencing the full extent of him, because you weren’t allowed to want him.

There, at the game, and even now, your body had been overrun by butterflies, their wings all beating in time and lingering deep in your skin. And there was an electric hum in your veins when he’d found your eyes at the game – the same hum that makes your skin feel alive right now, with him standing so close to you.

“Hi,” He says, stepping toward you and letting his eyes trail freely down the length of your body. From your little bonnet all the way down to the black, open-toe pumps on your feet, his gaze eats you up, those golden eyes hot on your skin.

“Do I look okay?” You whisper, hearing Yamaguchi and Kiyoko’s laughter in the bathroom as she yells at him to stay still. The sound echoes in your apartment, but the air between you and Tsukki is so quiet.

He meets your eyes, his brows tenting in amusement. “What?”

“Do you…” Your eyes flick between his, open and vulnerable. “...think I look okay?”

He takes another step, forcing you back. Another, and then another, until your back’s pressed against the wall in your foyer. And then he leans down, flattening his hand against the wall by your head. You watch, barely breathing, as his eyes drop to your choker.

“I think,” He says, barely above a whisper. “You should ask me again at the party.”

You swallow, frowning slightly. “Why?”

When his eyes meet yours, that humming grows in your veins.

“Because,” He says, his smile teasing. “Our friends are in the next room.” His other hand reaches out, brushing your hair off of your bare shoulder. “And I don’t think they’d like what I have to say about you in this dress.”

Your breath is shallow and your eyes flutter shut, the heat of his body melting away your resolve. You nod, keeping your eyes closed for your own good.

The bathroom door opens, and you draw in a breath of relief, prying your eyes open. Tsukki’s leaning against the opposite wall calmly, tilting his head to watch Yamaguchi come out of the bathroom behind you.

“Look!” Tadashi giggles, strutting out to the living room. You turn, meeting Tsukki’s eyes shakily for a moment before redirecting your attention to the boy posing behind your couch. Kiyoko’s cut his pants into extremely short shorts, and his shirt’s been turned into a crop-top, some of the makeup from his pants smeared on his newly exposed skin.

You whistle appreciatively, applauding a proud Kiyoko. “Appropriately slutty. Ten out of ten.”

“Careful,” Tsukki mumbles while your friends collect their things to leave. “I’m feeling a little left out over here.”

You turn, taking his face in one of your hands and smiling mischievously. “You’re not allowed to join the Slut Party – I don’t want to have to rip anyone’s hair out tonight.”

He just smirks down at you, following the three of you out.

The frat house where the party’s happening is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you decide to walk. The guys at the door claim to let you all in for free because of Tsukki, but you can feel their eyes on your ass as you pass by. When Tsukki looks decently annoyed by it, you just shrug up at him.

“No one told you to buy this for me-”

“ Tsukki! ”

You turn to the sound, finding Kyoutani and Koganegawa leaving the pop-up bar in the corner of the main room. Kyoutani’s dressed as a doctor, and Koganegawa – predictably – is wearing his Frogs uniform. You shoot Tsukki a meaningful look, grinning when he mutters ‘ Yeah, alright. It’s cliche’ in your ear.

The four of you meet Tsukki’s teammates at the edge of the dance floor, Tsukki disappearing to get you both drinks. Kyoutani looks you over with appreciation.

“Damn, Y/n!” He yells over the music. “You really know what you’re doing with all that!” He gestures vaguely to your body, shrugging when Yamaguchi blatantly glares at him. “It’s a compliment!”

You laugh, always a bit fond of Kyoutani’s blunt personality. “It’s good to see you, too, Ken,” You say, pointing at Kiyoko. “And you two match!”

It seems this is the first time he’s seeing the girl standing at your shoulder. You watch his eyes go wide as they trail down her body.

“Oh-” He says, coughing slightly. “Hi. Wow.”

Kiyoko gives him a side-glance, always one for a little Cat-and-Mouse. “Hi.”

He recovers quickly, sidling up to her. “I’m Kentarou,” He says, smiling handsomely. But Kiyoko just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I know. We’ve met, like, eight times.”

He blinks, looking her over. And then his jaw drops. “Holy shit – Kiyoko?! ” He sputters, flushing when Yamaguchi laughs at him. “It’s just- You’re always- Holy shit.”

Kiyoko rolls her eyes and turns her back to him with a flick of her ponytail. But you can see the blush starting to dust over her cheeks, and her disinterested half-smile is starting to look a little too satisfied. You meet her eyes knowingly, and she nudges you.

“ Shut up ,” She mumbles. “ You’re the one that wants to sleep with your best friend .”

You bark out a laugh of disbelief, nudging her back. Yamaguchi throws his arms around both of you.

“Can one of you please dance with me?” He yells over the music, already bouncing in place. “I want to be trashed and making out with a stranger by the end of the night!”

Kiyoko takes his hand and leads him to the middle of the dance floor, leaving you with a dumbstruck Kyoutani, and Koganegawa, who’s suspiciously quiet.

Probably because he’s staring right at your chest, his lips parted in awe.

“Kanji,” You say, a little reprimanding.

He swallows, meeting your eyes. “Hi. Sorry. Uh-” His eyes drop to the tops of your breasts again, watching how they swell over the top of your corset. “You-Hi.” He lifts his eyes to yours, realizing he’d been caught again. “Sorry-” And then he looks over your shoulder, his eyes going wide. “Uh-”

An arm slips around your waist, pulling you back against a chest. You look down, seeing the gloved hand that holds a red Solo cup full of liquid.

“Oh-” You look up at Tsukki, finding him staring at Koganegawa with thinly veiled irritation. “You got us drinks!”

He doesn’t respond, only handing you the drink in his other hand. His eyes narrow on his teammate’s, and Koganegawa blinks rapidly.

“I-Oh-Are you two…” He lowers his voice. “I thought you weren’t-”

You put two fingers on his mouth, shutting him up. “Kanji!” You say, frowning at him.

He blushes, looking around to see who’s around. “Sorry… I’ll just-” He gestures vaguely behind him and wanders off. Kyoutani stares down at the arm Tsukki has around you and then flicks his gaze up over your head. His lips stretch in a knowing smirk.

“Interesting…” He says, looking between the two of you. And then he shoots you a downward smile, shrugging as he turns away. “Very interesting.”

You turn, Tsukki’s arm still tight around your waist. “You scared your friend off!”

He shrugs. “He was looking a little too hard.”

You pull him out to where your friends are, trying not to let him see you blush. But the butterflies in your stomach are already fluttering nervously, because you have no way to know how this night’s going to go.

–

“You should probably know,” You hiccup, giggling into Tsukki’s shoulder. “That it definitely looks like you’re keeping me in this corner whispering horny shit in my ear.”

Tsukki laughs, low and against your skin, his hand only pulling you closer to him.

You stand in a dark hallway on the edge of the main room, your hands curled into the front of his tux and his hands anchored on your waist. You can see the dance floor, but the lights are off and you’re more than a little bit drunk, so the room is a haze of bodies and loud, thumping bass. You can see some people glancing with interest at the two of you, but it’s easy to ignore.

Your attention is more drawn to Yamaguchi whispering suggestively in the ear of Lev Haiba , of all people. You spy on your friend, ignoring the gentle brush of Tsukki’s lips against your throat.

“Well, I could start saying horny shit, if you’d like,” He mumbles, but you just pat him on the shoulder and point over to Yamaguchi.

“Is Tadashi about to bag a model? Look, look-”

Tsukki glances over his shoulder, quickly returning to the task of nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Is it possible to check in about that in the morning, maybe? I’m a little distrac-”

You gasp loudly, smacking Tsukki’s shoulder hard. “ Look , Tsukki!”

He turns with a sigh, following your finger to where Kiyoko is being pressed up against the far wall by Kyoutani, his tongue halfway down her throat.

“Oh-” Tsukki mumbles, blinking to clear his drunken vision. “Damn, that’s kind of crazy.”

You giggle to yourself. “Oh, that bitch is gonna be hearing from me tomo- mm- ”

Tsukki squeezes your cheeks between his fingers. “Hey. You’re not paying enough attention to me.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, and start to laugh. It’s difficult with the way he’s holding you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you getting jealous?” You smile as wide as you can when he glares down at you. “What would make you feel better?”

He releases your face, wrapping his arms back around your waist and drawing you close to him again. “Ask me what I think of your outfit. I never answered you.”

You breathe in the alcohol on his tongue, your head swimming. “I think I know what you think of it.” You gesture down to where he’s playing with the edge of the skirt, his knuckles skimming against your thigh.

His lips brush against yours when he mumbles, “ Ask me .”

You card your fingers through his hair, tilting your head up to kiss him. “ Okay ,” You whisper. “ What do you think of the dress, Tsukki? ”

He dips his head, pushing his lips against yours and nipping softly at your bottom lip. “I think…” He glances down the hall, and you spot an open door a few feet away, hidden in the dark. “I think I wanna take you in there and show you.”

Your skin hums with that electricity he’s so damn good at spilling into your veins.

“ So do it .”

His eyes sharpen at your words, and you’re hoisted up in an instant. You laugh loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and burying your face in his neck while he carries you down the hall. The door shuts behind him when he brings you into the room, and the loud, pounding music is muffled significantly.

“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Tsukki sighs. You glance up, finding a bed against the wall and a small couch in the corner. He walks you over to the couch, and you’re not sure if you’re more glad or disappointed that he isn’t taking this too fast.

He takes a seat, forcing you to straddle his thighs as you look down at him. His grin is smug. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Thought I was gonna take you to bed?”

You smack him hard on the chest. “You look stupid when you’re arrogant.”

“Yeah, well, you’re here, aren’t you?” He cups the back of your neck, dragging you in. You kiss him eagerly, the alcohol giving you the courage to drop all your pretenses. He seems to be in a similar situation, because his hands are latching onto your hips and pulling you down onto his lap. You sigh at the feeling of his thighs under yours, the difference between his sculpted ones and your soft ones almost heavenly.

“‘m not too heavy, right?” You mumble, unable to help yourself. He just shakes his head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Not heavy enough, in my opinion,” He breathes. His mouth drops to your throat as he mutters distractedly. “Sit down properly, princess.”

You let your thighs slide open, Tsukki’s mouth curling in a grin against your skin when he feels you get comfortable in your new seat.

“See?” He sucks hard on the junction of your neck. “Maybe if you’d just listen to me sometimes, we could be doing this more often.”

“Shut up, Tsukishima,” You murmur, distracted by the drag of his tongue over that burning spot on your throat.

“Fuck-” Tsukki nibbles another bruise into your skin. “Love when you do that.” His free hand digs into your hip, fingers fanning out.

“Love when I do what?” You sigh, letting your head falling to the side a little to give him more access. When his hand slides down over your ass, his hips rocking up gently as he kneads at your skin, you breathe out a quiet moan.

He shifts his hips again. “When you say my name like that. Like you’re scolding me.” He uses the hand he has on your ass to roll your hips in, his own meeting you halfway. A groan falls past his lips when you moan, your name murmured into the column of your throat.

“You like when I scold you?” You laugh weakly, your whole body humming and the electricity flowing straight to the place where your core bumps against the growing bulge in his slacks. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, Tsukki.”

He laughs, and it sends a jolt of desire to the spot below your navel. You roll your hips on your own, heart stopping when he whispers ‘ fuck’ against your ear.

“Just think it’s cute,” He says, breathless. “Always sounds like you think you’re in charge.”

So that’s what that’s about.

“I usually am,” You argue, carding your fingers through his hair and messing it up. You smile when your nails scratch against his scalp, because he shivers and tightens his grip on your hips. “I usually am in charge,” You say again when he meets your eyes, his own half-lidded.

He just grins, his other hand coming down to your waist. “Yeah?”

You feel his fingers dig into your skin, and then he’s dragging your hips against his, once and then twice. You drop your hands to his shoulders, gasping when he rocks his own hips up. He’s hard now, the slide of his hips against your core pure torture.

“How ‘bout now, sweetheart?” He teases, even though his breath catches in his throat when he rocks up against you a third time. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You press your forehead against his, your muscles weak. “This isn’t fair. This doesn’t count-”

“God, look at your pretty little doe eyes,” He says, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Makes me wanna give you anything you ask for.”

Trembling, you struggle to keep eye contact. “Like it when you look at me,” You whisper, watching his eyes light up. “Makes it hard to focus.”

“Yeah?” His smile is smug, satisfied. “‘s unfortunate, baby – I really like looking at you.”

Your breath is sharp in your chest, your head drowning in vodka and the feeling of Tsukishima Kei.

“ Tsukki ,” You whine, begging – for what, you have no clue. But he groans, hearing exactly what you’re asking for.

“Don’t say my name like that, Y/n,” He warns. “Or I’ll take you to that bed and make you say it again.”

You whimper, your arms shaking when he slides against you in a way that sets your core on fire. “ Fuck- ” You whine when he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you in. His mouth is searing hot on yours, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moan into his mouth, your heart beating in places you’ve never felt with him before.

Before you can tell him that you’re thinking of letting him take you to bed, the door slams open and a giggling couple stumbles into the room.

You gasp, jumping off of Tsukki and landing in the spot next to him on the couch.

The girl that had been pulled into the room is the first to realize there are other people here.

“Oh, fuck-” She pulls away from the guy, squinting. “Oh, holy shit. Tsukishima Kei?”

Tsukki sighs, unheard as the guy spins on his heel and exclaims loudly.

“Woah! Holy shit, it’s you!”

“Unfortunately,” Tsukki mumbles, but the guy just narrows his eyes at you, taking you in properly. And then he laughs, chortling as he gestures to you.

“Wow, nice outfit.” It’s clearly not a compliment. “You look just like you do in the photos.”

“That’s usually the point,” You say weakly. You can feel Tsukki tense next to you.

The guy approaches you, squinting in the dark. His eyes scan your bare legs and the length of your skirt. Tsukki flattens his hand over where your thighs meet, because your shorts have ridden up significantly and there’s too much showing now.

“Do you mind backing the fuck away from my girlfriend?” He says, his tone clearer than it’s been all night.

“Tsukki,” You reprimand quietly, trying to fix your dress. The girl tries pulling the guy away, but he’s got his eyes on your chest.

“Damn, you got quite the rack on you.” He laughs when your face morphs into a scowl. “Too bad it’s attached to the rest of you.”

He’s just far enough that when Tsukki stands, he’s able to scamper back toward the door.

“Say it again,” Tsukki says, his presence towering over everyone in the room. “Say it again, and see what I do to you.”

“Tsukki!” You stand, reaching for him. “Cut it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, Tsukki ,” The guy mocks, laughing as he steps out into the hall. “Learn to take a joke. Other than your girlfriend, that is-” He cackles, dodging Tsukki’s advances and hurrying out to the crowded main room.

Tsukki follows, likely with every intent to cause harm, but you’re quick to latch onto his arm.

“ Stop it, ” You hiss, pulling him back to you. You barely manage to get him to look at you, and you just gesture around the room when he does. “Look where he brought you. Pay attention, you idiot.”

Tsukki flicks his eyes around, seeing that the guy is causing a ruckus and drawing attention to the two of you.

“What’s wrong, Tsukki ?” He asks, giggling drunkenly. “Gonna let your bitch decide what you do?”

Tsukki tenses, turning toward him, but you pull him back.

“Look at me,” You say sharply. He meets your eyes, and you shake your head. “Don’t fucking do it.”

“Aw, come on, Tsukki,” The guy says, dancing around the edge of the dance floor and pulling more eyes to the scene. “Give us a show, since you and your girl love the attention so much!” He sneers at you. “Show us how you got those hickies, darling.”

“Please let me punch him,” Tsukki mumbles to you, but you just shake your head. “Just one little punch. It would be so quick, no one would be able to film it.”

“Let’s go home,” You say. When he makes no move to leave, only shifting his eyes to the guy that’s clearly trying to get him to pick a fight, you tug on his sleeve. “Please?”

“Look at the happy couple, everyone! Our star rookie and his whale of a girlfriend, dressed like a whore-”

Tsukki sighs heatedly, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to go through with it, but he just snatches up your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” You whisper, nearly jogging behind him as he takes full strides to the door. There’s a yank on the skirt of your dress, and you yelp, stumbling back. When you turn, the guy’s grinning down at you, his fingers tugging on the fabric.

“Since you wanna wear something so small, let’s show everyone what’s underneath-”

He’s shoved to the side, his body slamming into the wall on your right and slumping to the floor. You gasp, thinking for a moment that the blond head flying past your face is Tsukki, but you realize that it’s Kyoutani when you see the streaks of dyed hair on his temple.

“Since you wanna put your hands on women, you won’t mind me putting mine on you, right?” He says, grinning cruelly. He’s about to reach out for him again, but Kiyoko’s pushing past him, her nurse’s cap falling off her head when she kicks the guy on the floor with all her might.

“Touch her again and see if I don’t kick your fucking teeth in-” She hisses, drawing her foot back. You gape at her, much like Kyoutani is, but his expression’s a little more lovestruck. It’s Yamaguchi that breaks through the group next, his arms belting around Kiyoko’s middle.

“Alright, you fucking menace, let’s not go to jail tonight!” He giggles, dragging her thrashing body back a few feet. He looks at Kyoutani in the struggle. “You gotta go, too. Doesn’t look good,” He says brightly, and the blond nods dumbly, still watching Kiyoko with hearts in his eyes.

You start to move to them, hating that your friends have gotten caught up in this, but Tsukki slides his arm around your waist and lifts you clean off your feet, hauling you through the door and out to the street.

“Wh-Tsukki!” You protest. “We have to go get them!”

“No, we don’t. Kiyoko’s got it covered,” He says with finality, setting you down and pulling you through the sea of reporters. They start to follow, but he turns sharply, side-stepping to put you behind him.

“Look,” He says to them. “I know you want to follow us, but could you maybe not tonight? I kinda just want to walk my girlfriend home, okay?”

The group of paparazzi just stand there, unused to Tsukishima Kei handling his annoyances with such diplomacy. He lets out a sigh and spins on his heel, taking your hand and pulling you quickly down to the street.

You stumble after him, glancing back periodically. “You think they’re actually gonna leave us alone?”

“Probably for, like, three more minutes. Walk faster.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

The walk home is silent, and you can feel his anger in the way he hunches his shoulders close to his ears and sighs at every crosswalk.

“Tsukki,” You say after a few blocks, knowing he’s holding it in. “Talk to me-”

He whirls around, forcing you to skid to a stop. “Why didn’t you let me hit him, Y/n?”

Your jaw drops, and you let out a breath of disbelief. “Tsukki, he was baiting you-”

“I don’t care. ” He steps close to you. “Do you realize how much it killed me to listen to the shit he said to you? He never would have touched you if I’d had my way.”

“Yeah, he was clearly looking for that reaction,” You reason. “With the reputation you have, he was obviously trying to rile you up so that he could get a look at the real Tsukishima Kei-” You scoff, gesturing to him. “People want to see you lose it, Tsukki.”

“Well, I almost did!” He snaps, and you set your hands on his chest to calm him down. It doesn’t work very well. “He put his fucking hands on you-”

“Tsukki, I’m fine . Look at me.” You gesture down at yourself, even grabbing his hands and setting them on your waist. “See? Look. I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.”

He stares down at you. This seems to get his attention more, having his hands on you. You smile up at him.

“I’m okay. I promise.”

He just blinks, and you know he’s not ready to accept it. Sighing, you point down the street, only two blocks away from your apartment.

“Can we go home, please? I think those reporters are probably catching up to us.”

He holds your hand tight the whole way there.

–

“You can’t let people get to you like that, Tsukki,” You say, sighing.

You’ve just finished taking off all your makeup and changing into clothes that actually cover your body. Tsukki’s on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, his tux crumpled on the floor and his hair mussed up and falling into his eyes. The air between you had been silent the rest of the way home and while you were getting changed. You can tell he’s calmed down a little, but he still sighs when you speak.

“I feel like it would have been warranted,” He says, shooting you a joking smirk over the back of the couch. You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, a hand on your hip.

“The whole reason we’re doing this is so that I can fix you,” You say, moving into the kitchen to get you both water. “You gonna let me fix you or not?”

“The shit he said to you was not okay, Y/n.” He shakes his head, scrolling through Twitter. You take a seat next to him, seeing that he’s looking through footage from the party.

“I know. It wasn’t fun. But you still can’t pick fights like that,” You say, running your fingers through his hair and leaning into his side. “You have too much on the line right now.”

He doesn’t say anything, just scrolling through the tweets. There’s a video of him taking a few steps toward the guy that’s laughing, but the camera catches the way you pull on his arm and bring him back to you. Tsukki’s eyes meet yours, and you can see his shoulders slump with defeat, his eyes searching your face. What you say to him is inaudible in the video, but it’s clear that his body language shifts when he looks at you.

The next video is the one of him carrying you out of the frat house. The camera catches the way you gape at Kiyoko’s anger, the way your brow furrows with concern as you start to move to her. It also catches the moment that Tsukki reaches for you, his frown deep and his arms sliding tight around your middle. You’re lifted off your feet, and you look up at him with surprise, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

The video after is the one of him facing the reporters, essentially asking in his nicest voice that they fuck off for once. His eyes are hard, swimming with anger, and his jaw is clenched, but his words are polite and his body shields you purposely.

It’s weird, seeing the moments that you’ve experienced from someone else’s point of view. But, for once, you’re glad people are seeing your life with him play out – even those who were so against you from the beginning.

[10:57 PM] tsukkiyn4life : dude was WAY out of line. yn looks smoking hot and tsukkis fighting literal demons not to put bro in the hospital but HE LISTENS TO HIS GIRL!!! GREEN FLAG!!!

[10:59 PM] numberonekei : okay even ill admit yn was on it with this one. he woulda been fucked if he’d gotten into another fight

[11:05 PM] TsukkiYnShipper : the CHOKEHOLD she must have on that man to get him to back down…. tsukishima kei is down horrendously bad

[11:07 PM] keisolostan : bro the way he talked to those reporters? who are you and what have you done with tsukishima kei

You give Tsukki a meaningful look. “Got anything to say?”

He feigns innocence. “Hospital bills are expensive, anyway?”

“Tsukki-”

“Okay, fine-” He laughs, throwing his phone down. “You were right – there. You were right. You are singlehandedly fixing the Sendai Frogs’ problem child.”

You shrug, your smile satisfied. “All in a day’s work, really. Next thing you know, you’ll be smiling at babies and petting dogs and shit.”

“You’re so stupid,” He snorts, shaking his head. And then he sighs, exhausted. “That was an extreme exercise is self-control.”

“But you did so well,” You say, cupping his face and planting a messy kiss on his cheek. “‘m proud of you.”

“Sorry, princess – I’m not much a praise kink guy,” He jokes, but you can see the flush spread across his cheeks and ears. “I’m more into punishment.”

You give a nervous laugh. “Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said cute girls can’t handle you.”

“Oh?” He says, meeting your eyes with interest. “You remember that, huh? Been thinking about it?” His lips pull into a wide, satisfied smile when you purse your lips in embarrassment. But he doesn’t push it, only sighing quietly and looking away. “I suppose I should go.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not the part you’re expecting. Even after what the two of you had done tonight, and even after the things you’d said to each other on that couch in that room, that’s not what comes to mind when you think about him staying.

You just don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep looking at him and touching his face and listening to his stupid laugh. And, although that’s terrifying to realize, it’s what you what.

And he’d told you to do what you want.

“You don’t… have to…” You whisper finally, just as he’s starting to sit up.

His eyes find yours, and there’s a painful silence that follows. He blinks, and you blink back.

“I don’t have to… what?” He asks, although it’s clear by the way his eyes search your face with surprise that he knows exactly what you’re saying.

“Go.” You let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to go.”

Tsukishima Kei has never stayed the night before – not alone and certainly not in the way you’re implying.

He glances over the back of the couch in the general direction of your tiny bed before looking back to you, a blush dusting over his cheeks. He goes for the safest assumption, swallowing hard. “Uh… Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable… thing…”

“Yeah,” You say, laughing as you stare down at your lap. “My bed’s probably not that comfortable either… for… more than just me…” You don’t dare to meet his eyes again, just tugging at a stray piece of string sticking out of your pajama shorts. When he doesn’t respond, you start to sweat. “You don’t have to stay. You can just-”

He stands abruptly, and your head flies up to watch him. He crosses the distance to your bed and throws himself under the covers, his feet sticking out at the bottom.

“Turn the lights off on your way,” He mumbles, tossing his glasses and phone on the nightstand. And then he rolls over, facing the wall.

You stare for a moment, only managing a shocked laugh as you stand and kill the lights in the living room and kitchen. You make your way to him in the dark, your heartbeat thrumming in your throat and your legs a little shaky. When you slide under the blanket, Tsukki scoots further, pressing himself against the wall to give you room. You struggle to fit on the bed with your back turned to him, half of your body hanging off the edge, but you refuse to move, just praying that you’ll fall asleep soon.

Tsukki’s head shifts a little after a moment. “Are you comfortable?” He whispers in the dark.

“Mhm,” You say. “I’m good.”

He only snickers, turning in place. “Liar.” There’s an arm sliding around your waist, and then you’re dragged across the mattress until your back presses to his chest. Your eyes go wide, staring at nothing as you feel him mold his body against yours, his face burying into the back of your neck.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath fanning out over your skin. He sounds nervous.

“I think this is worse,” You joke weakly, but you do your best to relax back into him.

You feel his smile against your neck. “‘s not so bad…” And then he presses his forehead to your shoulder, and you feel heat radiating off of his face. “Not bad,” He repeats with a sigh.

“No,” You whisper. “Not bad.”

His hand finds yours in the dark, just before you drift off to sleep.

–

You wake the next morning to a mouth full of blond hair.

Sputtering quietly, you brush it away from you, realizing in the process that the weight on your chest is Tsukki’s head. He’s splayed out on his stomach, one of his knees tucked between yours and an arm draped over your hips, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed.

You stare down at him, running your fingers through his hair very carefully. You scratch your nails against his scalp, smiling when he sighs and shifts closer. His face looks so peaceful like this, you realize – his brows aren’t furrowed and his shoulders aren’t tense.

You haven’t seen him like this in years.

Before you can read into it too much, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, careful not to jostle him.

[9:04 AM]

Kiyoko : i feel like i just got hit by a truck

Kiyoko : that dragged me 7 blocks before realizing i was there

You snort, typing a response with one hand.

You : are you home/alone

Kiyoko : doors unlocked

You do your best to slide out from under Tsukki, going so far as pressing your lips to the crest of his eyebrows when he starts to frown. He relaxes, rolling over and going back to sleep instantly. Quietly, you tiptoe to the kitchen and retrieve two cans of iced coffee from the fridge before slipping out the door.

Kiyoko’s in bed when you sneak into her apartment. She sits up when you take your shoes off, grinning guiltily as you stop short.

“You slutty little nurse,” You say, staring at her. Her hair’s tangled and her pajamas are only half-on, but the real clue that she’d had an overnight guest is the mass of hickies decorating her throat and chest.

She rolls her eyes, beckoning you to bed. You eye it suspiciously.

“Are the sheets clean…?”

She laughs. “Yes, you ass. I changed them before I texted you.”

You shrug, hopping into bed with her and handing her a coffee. “So? What happened after I left?”

“Kentarou walked me to my door like a respectable gentleman,” She says, sipping loudly and looking away. You just stare, waiting her out. She finally meets your eyes again, giggling.

“And then ?” You ask impatiently.

“And then…” She shrugs one marked-up shoulder. “He fucked me like an animal.”

You squeal, smacking her arm over and over again while she laughs.

“Oh, my God, Kiyoko,” You wheeze, beaming at her. “I’ve never been more proud to be your friend. Wait-” You point at the door. “Did you just make that man do the walk of shame?”

“No, of course not!” She says, leaning her back against the headboard. “Obviously, I… thanked him for his services.” She endures another round of your smacking before saying, “He’s taking me out for dinner tomorrow. Said he’d pick me up from campus and everything.”

You nudge her, grinning wide. “Look at you! Dating a pro volleyball player.”

“Maybe you can give me some tips,” She jokes, finishing off her coffee.

“He’s not pro yet,” You say, rolling your eyes. “Hopefully, he’ll make it to the end of the year without starting shit.”

Her hand pauses halfway from her mouth, the empty can hanging in her hold while she examines you. You furrow a brow.

“What?”

“I was…” She squints now. “...kidding.” You blanche, staring at her while her eyes narrow further. “You know… because you’re not actually dating?”

“Right,” You say, smiling. “I know. I was just…”

“Y/n,” She says, lowering her finished drink and gaping at you. “Are you two actually dating ?”

“No!” You say, putting your coffee down on her nightstand so you can face her. “No, we’re not. It’s like I said – we’re just not really labeling anything.”

“Not labeling-” She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible idea. That’s such a slippery slope-”

“I know! We just… We know. We’re just taking it one day at a time.” You shrug. “That’s all I’ve got, honestly. Nothing else has happened.”

As if summoned by some demonic force, your phone buzzes on the bed between you.

[9:28 AM]

Tsukki : you know

Tsukki : usually it’s ME that sneaks out the morning after

Tsukki : im the sneaker

Tsukki : not the sneak-ee

Kiyoko snatches your phone up before you can, blinking hard to make sure she’s reading that right.

“You fucked him !” She yells, smacking your arm when you take your phone back.

“No! I didn’t! We just slept!”

“Do you think I was born yesterday, young lady-”

“I swear!” You laugh, bracing for her second smack. “All we did was sleep, I swear!”

She stares, clearly disturbed. “You’ve never done that before. Sleepovers.”

You shake your head with a tight smile. “Nope. First time.”

“And all you did was sleep.”

“All we did was sleep.”

She scans you a moment longer before leaning in, as though you’re not the only people in the room. “Did you catch feelings?”

“No!” You reel back, pushing her away lightly.

“Y/n, that’s not good-”

“I didn’t !” You swallow hard, trying to push down the memory of wanting him to stay the night. Of waking up this morning with him in your arms. “I didn’t catch feelings. It was just late, and we were just tired.”

She looks like she certainly has more to say, but she thankfully drops it, only pointing at your phone. “Answer him, before he starts calling.”

His name pops up on your screen with an incoming call the second she says it.

You only hesitate a moment, meeting her eyes with an uneasy smile before pressing it to your ear. “Hello?”

You don’t fight when Kiyoko drags your arm away from your face and aggressively jabs at the button to activate the speakerphone.

“ You left, ” Tsukki says groggily, his voice echoing in Kiyoko’s apartment. “ That’s fucked up. ”

“I didn’t leave. I’m at Kiyoko’s.”

“ Oh. I guess that’s fine. Can you steal some coffee? ”

Kiyoko just rolls her eyes but keeps quiet.

“I’ll see what I can do,” You say. And then you clear your throat. “What’s the plan today?”

“ Dunno. Wanna get breakfast? ”

You push Kiyoko away when she stares at you meaningfully. “Don’t you have practice today?”

“ Mm, ” He groans, stretching and yawning loudly. “ ‘s later. I feel pretty good today. ”

“Oh-” You stare down at your phone, your brows furrowing. “Really? My bed’s not really built for two.”

“ I know, I’m surprised, too. But that’s the best I’ve slept in ages. ”

Your heart jumps, and you don’t have it in you to push Kiyoko away again when she stares right into your soul.

“Oh. I-That’s good. You should get a shitty Twin XL bed, too, then.”

He laughs low, the sound deep and satisfied. You blush when Kiyoko curls her lip in disgust – she’s never heard that laugh before, then.

“ I could do that, yeah, ” He says, shifting in bed. “ Or I could just keep sleeping in yours.”

You’re really not getting out of this one. Kiyoko’s deadpan stare burns a hole through your face. Your cheeks warm to the point of discomfort, and you pick at a piece of lint on her blanket.

“Yeah… I suppose you could.”

He’s quiet on the other end for a moment. “ Okay, ” He says, his voice a little uncertain. “ That’s that, then. ”

“That’s that.”

“ Bring coffee? ”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“ See ya. ”

The apartment is dead silent after he hangs up. You nervously search Kiyoko’s blanket for more lint, feeling her eyes on your face.

“Do you like him, Y/n?” She says after a moment.

You just stare at your hands. “Dunno.”

“Do you realize that it sounds like he likes you?”

“I don’t know about that.”

She sighs, pulling you into her arms and planting a kiss on your temple. “So beautiful, yet so stupid. And blind. Stupid, blind, beautiful-”

“Okay, you made your point.”

–

By the time you return to your apartment, Tsukki’s washed up and sitting expectantly in bed, his back against the headboard as he taps away on his phone. He scans you when you come in.

“No coffee?”

You snort, joining him in bed. He shifts, eyeing you nervously for a moment before leaving one hand flat on the mattress and angling his body toward you. It’s clearly an invitation.

You just meet his eyes, your heartbeat suddenly strong in your chest.

And then you scoot toward him, curling up beside him and letting your knees fall over his thigh. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you comfortably against him.

“Are you sure you slept okay?” You ask, your voice cracking when you feel his thumb drawing circles in your skin.

He nods, eyes dropping to your mouth. “Wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?”

“No,” You laugh. “It was, uhm…” You trail off, feeling when he leans in. His lips are warm against yours, and you feel abnormally at ease, wrapped up in his arms like this. You card your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and shivering when his other hand slides along the outside of your thigh, kneading gently.

“ You fucking liar ,” He whispers against your mouth. “ You taste like coffee. ”

You throw your head back, laughing. “I’m sorry! I grabbed some from the fridge before I went up.” And then you kiss him again before you lose your courage. “I’ll buy you coffee while we’re out.”

“My girl’s such a provider,” He says, grinning when you smack him on the shoulder. You try not to let the words ‘ my girl ’ affect you too much.

“Do you want coffee or not?”

He nods, pulling you in for one more kiss before murmuring ‘ Sounds good ’ against your mouth.

You have to peel yourself out of his arms, the danger of staying in bed all day with him too high.

The two of you walk to breakfast, hand in hand, and then you see him off when it’s time for practice. He comes back after, dinner in hand, and you both work on assignments with trashy TV playing in the background.

He stays the night again. And again. And again.

He stays until Christmas.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader

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vxlentinescookies · 6 months ago

Note

One-shot of (Jester) Shadow Milk cookie x (Princess) Fem Reader please 🙏🏻

Plot : The reader hates her kingdom because it ruled by the infamous greedy king (her father), later on her father hired a new jester and eventually the princess and the jester become close friend (they secretly like eachother) but king despise the idea that his daughter being close with the jester and is planning to do something bad.

I need yummy angst with fluff 🙏🏻

Also, we knew that Shadow Milk could easily destroy the kingdom, he's one of the beasts afterall-

→ ❛A rose in times of war❜

→ Pairing ; Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader → Quote ; ❛❛Do you trust me, my dearest?❜❜ → Genre ; Drama , Romance → A/N ; Here you go! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

Once upon a time, there was a princess, caught in the claws of a greedy little kingdom. Her father, the King of the vast land, was greedy and infamous, often spending large quantities of money in parties and riches that could only amount to showing off his vast wealth. The princess was tired, exhausted of this behavior, so much that his father, in an unlikely act of love, hired the help of a handsome and great Jester, called—

“Shadow Milk Cookie, I know thats you you’re describing in the story…”

“Oh my dear (y/n) cookie, just allow me to have some fun!”

Ahem, long lost in the hills of earthbread, near Beast-Yeast, yet far away from most kingdoms, there would lie a kingdom, characterized for its poverty and power imbalance. Townsfolk would beg for a little bit of food, while the royalty boasted their riches and overabundance, this little kingdom was called Red Clover Kingdom. Ruled by King Clover Cookie, he’d become infamous in the chatter of his subjects and other kingdoms, due to his ruling with an iron fist and greed coating his words. Yet, despite all of this, one thing seemed to be clear, and its that he loved his daughter dearly. You see, the king wasnt always like this, there was a time where the king once was kind and full of life, but since the death of Queen Camellia Cookie, nothing but ruin and darkness had but befallen the kingdom. Consumed by grief, the King changed completely, fully submitting to the darkness in his heart and turning the kingdom into his own little playground, a truth he tried to hide from the Princess, whom he adored with his life as the only remnant of his wife’s legacy.

Seeing the princess' saddened state, the boredom that leaked into her mind and into her life, the King came to a resolution, and that was bringing forth a jester, a companion for the Princess, said jester, was none other than Shadow Milk Cookie. Having infiltrated the kingdom as an attempt to escape from being locked out again by White Lily Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie became appointed as the Princess jester, a job he relished in as it allowed him to partake into creating plays and making others laugh, but it also meant that he had to stay at bay, save he want to be found out, which wasnt that fun but he could manage. With that in mind, the relationship between the Princess and Shadow Milk cookie would slowly shift into one of friendship and comfort, as the Princess would find safety and a confidant in the jester.

“Shadow Milk cookie, you’re so funny” The princess would tell the jester once, laughing as he finished another of his puppet plays with expertise.

“Of course I am, Im a jester after all!” He noted, and the princess couldnt do anything but laugh gently.

“Of course you are” The princess would say with a smile, looking at the jester before thinking deeply. “And to think that when we met, I wasnt keen on you, you’ve truly surpassed my expectations, jester of mine… And Im grateful of that.”

Of course, the princess wasnt always keen on the jester. Thinking at first that he was a tactic of his father to keep her controlled, she would at first be coarse and harsh on the jester, hiding behind her fan as the poor cookie tried his best to make the royal laugh, but it was difficult. It’d take one specific parody of the royalty, presented only in front of the princess and some of her handmaids, to make the princess finally break into laughter, something that seemed to be unlikely, it seemed to finally have happened.

“Right, that moment was quite precious, I hold it dear to my heart” Shadow milk cookie said with pride in his voice, holding a hand to his heart while another lifted his hat, and the princess couldnt do anything but giggle at his mannerisms “I mean it! Your laughter breaks my heart now, ahuhu…”

“Oh you silly jester” She’d say warmly, walking towards him to put a hand on his shoulder. “Truly, what would I do without you…”

Those words seemed to take Shadow milk by surprise, as he looked at the princess for long moments before simply smiling and hitting her with another one of his jokes, another parody of the royalty of the dark kingdom, and the Princess would hide her mouth with her fan as she laughed. Things were surely lively in her quarters, since of course, Shadow Milk Cookie couldnt afford to laugh at royalty in front of the king himself, oh no! Of course he couldnt, save he’d be sent away to the dark dungeons of the castle—And then the princess would be all sad and mopey, and that was something he didnt want to happen.

Silently, though, would their relationship deepen the more they spent together, the more they shared moments and laughter, it was something visible and palatable to those around them, the handmaids, the butlers, everyone but them. For the princess would keep on laughing, and the jester would keep on entertaining her. Knowledge of their feelings growing closer and closer together would eventually find the ears of the king, however, and nothing but anger would come from his lips as he thought of what to do. This wasnt meant to happen, he wasnt meant to fall for the princess, nor viceversa, but oh, who was he to say who the princess deserved? Apparently, someone because the next thing he did would be something that would mark the poor princess forever.

“An arranged marriage? B-But, father—”

“No buts! You will marry the prince of the kingdom of Rose Champagne, lest you wish to see that damned Jester suffer!”

With nothing else to say, the poor princess couldnt do anything but go to her room and cry inconsolably, seeing her life go down the drain as the King forced her to take a path she didnt want, to take the hand of someone she didnt love, it was all a nightmare, and as Shadow Milk cookie approached the room for the daily session with his favorite princess, he��d come to see the aftermath of a dark endeavor.

“Oh Shadow Milk Cookie, my loyal jester!” The princess would cry out as she went to hug the cookie, who, dumbfounded, would hold her in his arms to soothe her. “The king, the king wants to marry me off!!”

“W-What?”

“Y-Yes, he wants me rid of someone from another kingdom, and I must abide lest… lest they hurt you…”

The words felt like daggers into his heart, as the cookie simply listened to the poor princess’ laments. And then, only then would darkness and deceit take shape and form inside of the cookie, feeling those old feelings resurface and take shape into the darkest of ways. He consoled the princess, then, the handmaids leaving the room to leave them both be, as the Jester rubbed circles on her back, shushing her down to a small slumber. Oh dearest princess, if only you knew how much this jester has grown to adore you, your smiles, your laughter, your voice and your overall self, then you’d know that somethings are only done in the name of love.

Deceit was the last name of Shadow Milk Cookie, and with the only truth on his lips being his love for the princess, he’d ideate a plan to get her out of there, and into the depths of Beast-Yeast. Carefully would plan a way to turn the handmaids against the king, the butlers, the cooks, the servants and the townspeople, which wasnt hard, as all of them already felt a certain way, less than favorable, about the father of the princess. Then, he’d call upon a riot, a riot to overthrow the king and lead to a better future for both the kingdom and the princess. And while all that happened, he’d steal the princess away, take her somewhere safer, somewhere deep within Beast-Yeast.

“Are you sure this plan will work?” One of the townsfolk asked, looking around the room as the jester, clad in a cloak, only smiled.

“Of course, I’m the princess’ appointed jester after all… Who else would know the castle better than me?”

That would mark a countdown that would end a fateful rainy day, deep into the darkness of the night, when the princess was sleeping, clad in a white dress, would wake to the thunder and the silhouette to someone in the balcony.

“W-Who’s there…?” She’d ask, sheepishly as Shadow Milk would only open the balcony doors, extending a hand over to her. “S-Shadow Milk Cookie…?”

“My dearest princess, will you accept this jester’s dance this night?” He’d speak, then, with the warmest of smiles and the most devious of gazes. Truly, a meeting for a lifetime.

“W-What are you doing here, my jester?”

“There is no time to lose, princess, a riot is brewing within the townsfolk and the servants of the kingdom, we must make haste and escape while we can…”

“But…”

“Do you trust me, my dearest?”

Silence would fill the room for long moments, as the princess would think about what to do, who to follow. But deep within her heart, she’d run to Shadow Milk and hold his face in her hands, completing the moment with a loving kiss. It would be returned, gingerly by the jester taken by surprise, as he led them towards the balcony, and in a jump of faith, would they both fall in the middle of the rain into the garden. Roars and wrath would be heard in the kingdom as the beast known as Shadow Milk Cookie would take the princess away, stealing one of the horses from the stable to run into the distance. Loud galloping could be heard from one of the exits of the kingdom, Shadow milk keeping the Princess hidden under a spell of invisibility and the cloak she now carried on.

Legend says that the beast and the princess were never to be seen again, as one of the townsfolk would take over the kingdom as the newly appointed king. Nobody but the king himself, who rotted away in the dungeons would weep for the lost princess, save for a few handmaids, except those who had learnt the true plan Shadow Milk Cookie had for them.

‘I’ll steal (Y/N) away, I’ll bring her into Beast-Yeast, the safest part there is and…’

“Shadow Milk Cookie?”

It had been years since you left the Kingdom, since the titles of princess and jester started becoming meaningless between you both. You called upon him as he turned to look at you, holding his child in your arms in the middle of a clearing in the forest, where the morning dew illuminated you making you seem… angelic. Oh, how could he afford to lose someone like you…

“Yes, my princess?” He’d ask, walking towards you and cupping your face in his hand, he was much taller, much bigger, and yet, he held you like the most precious doll in the world.

“Food is ready, I was going to call you earlier but you seemed so stuck in your thoughts and I didnt want to interrupt that I…” You trailed off, feeling his finger dance around your lips softly. “... I love you”

“I love you too, my dearest”

‘... And I’ll make her my wife.’

#🌙;moonlit dreams #shadow milk cookie x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader

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thegirlamongthestars · 3 months ago

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kiss me - c.alcaraz

author: this fic is part of the olympic love series

summary: A midnight invitation to the pool make Carlos and Valeria surpass some limits

wc: 1,1k

“Come and meet me by the pool at 00:00”

That’s what his message said.

The village was unusually quiet at that hour of the night, the cool breeze rustling through the trees that lined the paths. After a long day of training and socializing, I wandered aimlessly, feeling this as a moment of peace. The faint sound of water, lapping against the edges of the pool, moved by the breeze caught my attention; drawing me toward the shimmering blue under the moonlight.

When I arrived, I was surprised to find the pool area completely deserted. No sign of Carlos anywhere nearby. The water looked inviting, almost too tempting to resist. So, I sat on the edge, dipping my feet in and letting out a contented sigh as the cool water soothed my tired legs. I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the solitude, when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

"Couldn’t sleep?" His voice, deep and smooth, cut through the stillness of the night. Already teasing me with the fact that I obeyed to his demand of meeting here.

I opened my eyes and found Carlos standing a few feet away. He was dressed casually in swim trunks and a sleeveless T-shirt, his hair still damp from what I assumed was a recent shower. There was a relaxed confidence about him that made my body pulse with excitement.

"I’m here as you wished" I replied lightly, trying to keep my tone casual. "Care to join me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. In one swift motion, Carlos peeled off his shirt, revealing the body that I hadn’t been able to keep off my mind. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over his toned chest and abs.

Carlos caught my stare and grinned. "See something you like?"

"Just wondering if you’re as fast in the water as you are on the court" I shot back, lifting my chin in challenge.

"Is that a dare?" His tone was laced with that teasing edge I had come to expect from him.

"Maybe," I said before disappearing under the water for a few seconds. "I think this is a great chance to start that little game of yours”

Carlos’s eyes darkened with interest as he considered my proposal. "And what exactly are the boundaries we’re talking about in this first round?"

"That’s for the winner to decide," I replied, my voice taking on a more seductive note. The air between us seemed to thicken with tension, the kind that had been building for days, unspoken but ever-present.

Carlos stepped closer to the edge of the pool, his gaze locked on mine. "Alright, Valeria. You’re on. First to the other side and back wins."

My pulse quickened as I moved to the deeper end of the pool. I could feel his eyes on me as I advanced, the coolness enveloping me like a second skin. When I turned to face him, he was already by my side, his expression confident and focused.

"Ready?" I asked, my voice slightly breathless, whether from the anticipation or the cool water, I wasn’t sure.

"Always" Carlos responded.

Without another word, we both launched ourselves forward, slicing through the water with powerful strokes. The race was fast and intense, the sound of our splashing the only noise in the stillness of the night. We were neck and neck as we reached the opposite end, but as we turned to race back, I could feel Carlos pulling slightly ahead.

Determined not to let him win, I pushed myself harder, my muscles burning with the effort. But despite my best efforts, Carlos touched the edge of the pool a split second before I did.

He surfaced with a victorious grin, slicking his hair back with one hand as he leaned against the pool’s edge. "Looks like I win" he said, his voice full of satisfaction.

I pouted playfully, though my heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the swim. "Fine. What’s your demand, then?"

Carlos’s smile turned predatory, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sent a shiver down my spine. "Come closer," he murmured.

I swam toward him, feeling the tension between us heighten with every inch that closed between us. As I reached the edge, my body brushed lightly against his, the contact electric. Carlos didn’t move back, didn’t give me any space, just waited until I was almost flush against him. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said. "Kiss me."

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion—it was a demand, and the boldness of it took my breath away. I had expected something cheeky, perhaps a little daring, but this… this was a line we hadn’t crossed before.

For a fraction of a second, I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. But the heat in his gaze, the raw anticipation that hung in the air between us, was too much to resist. I leaned in, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders as I closed the distance between us.

Our lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, but the moment they connected, it was as if a dam broke. The kiss deepened, turned urgent, our bodies pressing impossibly closer. I could feel the cool water lapping around us, contrasting with the warmth of his skin, the heat of his mouth.

Carlos’s hands moved to my waist, pulling me even closer as the kiss became more intense. It was a kiss that spoke of all the teasing, the flirting, the unspoken attraction that had been building between us. A kiss that was both an exploration and a promise of more to come.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s as we tried to steady our racing hearts.

"Looks like I got more than I bargained for" I whispered, my voice shaky with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Carlos chuckled softly, his hands still resting on my waist. "This is just the beginning, Val. We’ve got plenty more rounds to go."

I smiled, unable to hide the thrill that coursed through me at the thought. "Then I guess I’ll just have to make sure I win the next one."

"Better start thinking of your demands now" he teased, brushing a stray lock of wet hair from my face.

"Oh, don’t worry," I replied, my voice low and seductive. "I’ve got a few ideas in mind."

Carlos’s eyes darkened with desire at my words, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the promise of what was to come hanging heavily in the air.

Then, with a playful grin, he leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "I can’t wait to see how far you’re willing to push those boundaries."

My stomach flipped at the challenge in his voice, knowing that whatever came next, it was going to be anything but ordinary.

#carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz fanfiction #carlos alcaraz fic #carlos alcaraz imagine #carlos alcaraz x reader #carlos alcaraz x you #olympic village #olympics

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cavillscurls · 1 year ago

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September | Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel hates his birthday. You discover why.

Warnings/tags: Jackson era. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Depictions of trauma, anxiety, and panic attacks. Discussions of child loss. Foul language. Alcohol consumption. Some fluff. Squint for mutual pining. Peepaw Joel because I said so. Some plot about reader because I can’t help myself.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: OOF. yeah. this one… this was a tough one to write, for many reasons. the biggest of course being the content, but it’s also the first time i’ve tackled pure angst in a fic. please give it some grace!! i am nonetheless very proud of the project; it’s an idea that, when it hit me, i knew it would be important to bring to life. happy birthday, joel. xx

He explicitly told Tommy he didn’t want this.

Didn’t want the attention. Didn’t want to be surrounded by a herd of people he hardly knew, let alone even liked. Didn’t want to be tasked with having to entertain while simultaneously trying to manage the prolific anxiety churning in his gut.

But most of all, he didn’t want to be reminded about the weight the day carried.

Regardless, it made Tommy no less of a big mouth, and when a few of the ladies in the mess hall caught wind of him mentioning Joel’s approaching birthday — most of whom were women who had taken an eyeful liking to the stoic man, though he had never so much as shot a glance their way — they deemed a party necessary. Before Tommy even had the opportunity to backtrack, plans were already being sent into motion.

That was how Joel ended up on the Friday evening of his fifty-seventh birthday sitting painfully uncomfortable at the back of the decked out mess hall, the loud music and bright lights overwhelming his senses, more than rapidly sipping at his second glass of whiskey.

He had been working for some time now to manage these feelings to no avail. Feelings of persistent panic, coming over him in times where he least expected. Even now, as he tried his hardest to put his best face forward for the sake of not embarrassing himself, they would not ebb. They sunk their teeth into him mercilessly, sending inconsolable jolts of distress throughout his body and permeating all around him.

He felt weak, helpless. Simultaneously being pulled in the direction of burdensome distress while still trying to maintain his dignity, his strength, for those he loved. Those he still had to love.

But they could not replace the one he lost.

He waited as long as he could, or at least until he was certain enough that the majority of guests had surpassed their interest in him and began their mingling about, until he gave way to the feelings. As soon as he was skipping breaths, chest tightening in a struggle against his lungs, Joel knew the breaking point was too close to risk being seen. He pushed himself to his feet rather shakily, discarding his glass on the nearest table, before he was taking frantic strides towards the back of the hall.

Vision bleary, the world felt distorted around him. He tried to blink it away, but it never quite cleared. Bile was burning at the back of his throat, and his hands began to shake as he reached for the door handle for the back storage room, filing inside and quickly shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, hands steadying on the nearest thing he could find. He gripped a bit too hard it seemed, sending the shelf of spices rattling, a few tumbling to the floor in his wake. He quickly released the structure, stumbling further into the space until he spotted what looked to be a sturdy enough crate to sit on.

Joel’s face fell into his hands when he sat, legs bouncing ferociously. Count to five, in and out. He knew all the tips and tricks, trying to implement them whenever he could. But there were times, times like now, where the panic was too great to be soothed with measly breathing exercises. When the sound of his erratic breathing rang loud in his ears, and his limbs vibrated as if they were on the verge of shutting down. His lips quivered and his eyes stung with emerging tears; he wanted to scream, release some sort of tension through his voice and into the universe. The fear of party goers hearing was the least of his barriers — the unnerve lodged in his throat prevented him from speaking, punishing him by forcing him to retain every ounce of fear. Shame.

Guilt.

He was too lost in the sea of disorientation to hear the approaching footsteps. Or the door creaking open. Or the sound of a voice repeating his name three times before his unfocused eyes noticed the shadow of a person standing in front of him.

He blinked a few times, attempting to clear his line of sight.

Joel? Joel, are you alright?

The voice was familiar. Soothing, even.

Joel? Hey, can you hear me?

Yes, he could hear it. Something about the cadence blooming his numbed sensations back to life. The shadow moved lower, as if it were now crouching before him. And when he felt the weight of two sturdy hands on his thighs, accompanied by the delicate and concerned voice, it was like the switch of reality had been flipped back on.

When he blinked now, his vision cleared. The sight before him one he could not process right away. Kind eyes and wrinkled brows bore up at him, and Joel was nearly confused to find that the shadow before him was you; knelt on the ground in front of him, grounding hands pressed against the outside of his thighs, and a countenance that displayed gentle understanding.

You. With your pretty eyes and tender smile, always filling a room with the sort of laughter that couldn’t help but draw attention, even if you didn’t mean it to. You taught some of the science courses over at the schoolhouse, and while your interactions with Joel thus far had been mainly friendly and in passing, he had heard plenty about you from Ellie. Ever since the astronomy lesson, she had taken quite a liking to your class. And to you.

He said your name quietly, and it fell off his lips as a broken statement. Desolate and weak.

“Hey, yeah. I just came back here to look for more cups and I—” you halted your explanation, slowly slipping your hands off of him. He didn’t realize how hard he was clenching his body, likely the reasoning you hesitated to continue touching it. He recognized the look in your eyes. Pity.

“Are you…are you okay?”

No, of course he wasn’t fucking okay. But back in his rational subconscious, Joel knew you weren’t asking to be facetious. You were a gentle, aiding soul by nature, and right now, he was the target of that affection. However, that did not stop the embarrassment of you seeing him in this condition from creeping up and invading every part of him.

“M’sorry,” he grumbled, beginning to shake his head rapidly. “I just, I needed to — fuck.” It was getting hard to breathe again. “Couldn’t be out there. Needed — needed some air.”

You were nodding along slowly with his words, and despite your gentle expression, Joel couldn’t help but imagine how much of a fool he looked like.

“Do you want me to get Tommy? Or maybe Ellie–?” you asked, your tone as soft as your eyes.

“No,” Joel answered, perhaps a bit too quickly and urgently, because it startled you a bit. Regret instantly crossed his already pained face. “Sorry, no, I uh – I don't want ‘em seein’ me like this right now.”

You were nodding again, and he noted the way you seemed to take careful consideration before formulating your words. And as much as he would never admit it, it was precisely what he needed. Someone to take their time to understand the situation. Understand him. Which he made nearly impossible by keeping every bit of himself locked up inside.

“You–you ain’t gotta stay out here with me, m’sure everyone’s already wonderin’ where I am–”

“It’s your party, they can all wait for you.” The way you said it, as if it was the most matter of fact thing in the world, lifted a bit of the invisible weight off Joel’s chest. His eyes followed you as you slowly stood to your feet, turning around to plop down beside him on the crate. Biceps and thighs now pressed together, the contact was surprisingly reassuring. Anchoring.

The long, lingering silence that followed didn’t appear to bother you, but Joel was abruptly filled with insecurity.

“M’sorry, I just–”

“Stop apologizing,” you cut him off, tilting your head to look over at him with a ghost of a smile. He looked back at you, the tightness in his chest suddenly replaced by comfort. You had no knowledge of his condition, and yet, Joel got the sense that you understood. In your own, inward way, able to detect the shift of his persona. The one he was displaying now normally not at the forefront. Still, you behaved as though it didn’t faze you. As if it were normal. Maybe, in some ways he chose not to accept, it was.

“You don’t…you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you said, a bit quieter now. Your eyes had fallen into your lap. “But if you do–” then, they were back up on him, searching for their own sense of confidence, “–I’m here to listen.”

All he could do for a good, long while was stare back at you. He questioned for a moment if this could be real, that a beautiful girl like yourself could just happen to waltz into the very room he was having an episode in, the most vulnerable side of him on display, and still look at him the same way you always had. Kind, temperate, and maybe even a bit curious.

Joel sighed heavily, dropping his own eyes to his hands in his lap, knuckles faded white by the way they still clenched onto each other. “It’s just I…I told ‘em I didn’t want this. Too many damn people, all talkin’ and yellin’ at me, tryin’ to make me feel like it should be the happiest day of my whole damn year.”

“And it…doesn’t feel like that to you,” you said, as if you could read his very thoughts. A statement, no question.

Joel nodded, licking his lips. They were starting to get the feeling back to them. “Nah, it doesn’t.” It never really has, he wanted to add.

But that wasn’t always true, was it?

Once upon a time, he had even looked forward to the occasion. Not for the sake of attention or some overdone party, but because it was the one day a year he could promise himself to do everything in his power to spend it with the person most special to him.

Those memories were dull now. Whether it was the natural progression of time, or his own repression, Joel couldn’t tell.

“Birthday’s can be heavy,” you spoke up, shrugging your shoulders. Joel wasn’t used to speaking about these things so nonchalantly. Speaking about trauma, the god forsaken T word he refused to link to himself. The subject didn’t seem to bother you. “They remind us of where we are in life, who we are. They force us into reality.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Your patience and grace in finding him in such a predicament was already overwhelming; hearing you console him, give him advice even, as if the weight of these discussions didn’t crush you as firmly as it did him, made Joel feel inadequate. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. He should be lecturing you; a man of many years, hopefully having gained some wisdom and guidance by now.

In truth, Joel wasn’t sure he had changed much at all from the man he was twenty years ago — stuck in his ways and too stubborn to let anyone else in.

“I lost someone,” he finally blurted out. “On the day of the outbreak.” Perhaps his impetus for such a bold move was to prove to himself he could change. Do one thing different this time around when someone presented the opportunity for him to open up. He didn’t think he was off to all that good of a start.

You were silent for a moment, and then: “That’s…that was—”

“Tomorrow, yeah.” It was always a sensitive time of year. “Day after my birthday.” But maybe a bit more sore for Joel Miller than it was for most.

“Who?”

It was the natural next question, and yet, Joel still found himself hesitating. Once he said it out loud, he couldn’t take it back. Not only did it mean you knowing about one of his best kept traumas, but he would have to relive it himself. Based on the way he had behaved just moments ago, he was treading on thin ice.

But you were looking at him so intently, so engaged. Joel wondered if it was your eyes alone that had aided him in his panic. He relinquished himself to that thought, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“My daughter.”

He could see it on your face. The same thing he saw in everyone who heard of his loss: what do I say next?

He had heard it all. I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine. That must’ve been so horrible. And everytime, regardless of how sincere their words were, Joel felt condescended. Belittled. Reminded of his mistakes. His greatest failure. As if anyone who knew his tragedy could really only see one thing: the incapable father who let his little girl slip through his fingers.

But you surprised him.

“What was her name?”

Joel could not remember the last time he said it out loud. Maybe when he had finally spoken to Ellie about her? And while the thought of hearing it now terrified him, he also could not remember the last time someone asked him such a question after he told them such a thing.

No poking or prodding for the morbid details. No sorrowful condolences or overdramatized emotions. A simple, meaningful question.

What was her name?

“Sarah,” he finally said, unable to avoid the crack in his voice. “Her name was Sarah.”

For a moment, Joel was taken aback by your silence, unsure of what to say next. But when he looked at you, with your quaint smile and focused eyes, he realized you were simply waiting. Waiting for him to speak, or not speak. Tell you, or not tell you, anything he wished to say about it. About her.

He cleared his throat, shifting a bit on the crate and reverting his gaze back to his hands in his lap. “She was, um…she was incredible,” he continued, still doing his best to mask the low strain in his tone, but it proved increasingly harder the more he revealed. He closed his eyes momentarily. Maybe it would be easier to pretend he was talking to no one, saying these things aloud for the first time to thin air.

Even if, deep down, he cherished the thought of you listening.

And so, he talked. With a limited emotional range and less than stunning articulation, he told you about his big eyed, curly headed baby girl. The star of her soccer team. The smartest kid he had ever met. The reason he breathed air itself. How clear it was to him from the moment he laid eyes on her that no matter how fucked up his life had gotten, or how little he was of a man, he had a purpose.

He wasn’t sure how long he went on babbling, but the longer he did, the more at ease he felt. He still didn’t look at you, but he could hear you chuckle softly at fond memories, and sniffle at others. He could feel the way your eyes bore into him from the side, humming in gentle understanding when he would say something about being a single parent, or how blinded he was by the onset of teenage years.

“Did she like birthday parties?” you chimed in to ask at one point when Joel told you about her first ever big girl bicycle, purple and no training wheels, for her fifth birthday.

“Oh, that girl could party,” he said, much to his surprise eliciting a laugh from the both of you. A warmth long forgotten fizzling at his core.

He needed this. Someone to just listen. Someone to listen to him talk about her. It wouldn’t be fair to Ellie to dump it on her, and Joel knew that. Tommy was in the midst of starting his new life, a beautiful baby of his own on the way. What kind of brother would he be to dampen such a joyous time more than he already had? Thus, the memory of her only lived on in his head. Constant, day and night. Plaguing him from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep at night, endless images begging to be set free.

She deserved to be seen by someone other than him, and here you were.

Steady, patient, and willing to listen.

Only by the time his stories came to their natural conclusions — carefully choosing to leave out the nitty gritty details of her death as that was territory he was unprepared to delve into — did Joel start to feel the insecurities arise again. He glanced over to the adjacent wall, the clock hands reading a good thirty minutes after he had abandoned the party. Thirty minutes of your time he had taken up, unprompted.

He started fidgeting again. “M’sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you stopped him gently, taking him back yet again when you placed a delicate hand on his knee. The way you looked at him now, pulled brows and twinkling eyes indicative of sympathy, compassion, and maybe even a bit of reverence, kept the panic at bay. “Please don’t feel like you need to apologize.”

He knew you meant it. Somehow, he knew. That listening to his misfortunes was not some burden to you, but a tried and true display of your heart and the care you had for him. His Ellie. His family. A decent person, a good person in a world of loss and hatred.

He must have been staring at your for a good few moments, but it was only when he felt the sting of tears pooling at his waterline that you spoke. Your own eyes glistening, tearing deeper into his already scarred heart.

“Can I hug you?” you whispered, and Joel had to hold his breath to prevent a sob from tearing through his throat.

Diligently, he nodded, and it wasn’t long before you were scooting closer to him, reaching your arms out to close around his neck. His own wrapped around your torso, flushing you against him and burying his face into your neck. He didn’t want you to see him cry, only the slight tremors through his body an indication of it. Even if you noticed, you didn’t say anything. He was grateful.

You were soft and warm, the sweet scent of you coating his senses in comfort and bliss. It was moments like these, of unbridled human connection, that Joel was able to see a future for himself much clearer. That there was a purpose for him beyond decades of mindless destruction and pain.

Discovering Ellie reminded him of this.

Finding Tommy.

Meeting you.

That despite who he thought he was, there was once a version of him that knew the purest form of love. Unconditional and incomparable. No matter how damaged that piece of him was, it could never truly be lost.

She would never be truly lost to him.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

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Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Vil Schoenheit #Jack Howl #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #something no one asked for #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #Vil birthday takeover

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604to647 · 5 months ago

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Third Time's the Charm

5.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!Reader

Summary: After two failed attempts, Tim finally takes you on a first date.

Warnings: Mostly fluffy with a wee sprinkle of angst/anxiety/insecurity (on Tim's part), soft!Tim, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, one [1] baby, one [1] sweetheart), drinking/wine, kissing, allusion to smut.

A/N: Another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio! As always, these one-shots can be read as standalones, but if you're curious, this one takes place right after Marine Attraction (and I guess almost a year before Husband Material?) I hope you enjoy as we continue to jump around on the timeline of this couple's relationship!

Photography inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 📸 Series Masterlist

Detective Tim Rockford doesn’t get nervous. Not after more than two decades on the force, facing down dangerous felons and seeing the seedier side of life in LA. In his line of work the difference between nervousness and nerves of steel was often a bullet. Detective Tim Rockford doesn’t get nervous.

So understandably, it took him a moment or two to recognize the feeling vibrating throughout his body, but undoubtedly, it’s nervousness. Big, bad Detective Tim Rockford is nervous for your first date.

It’s not even regular first date jitters, where one is unsure if the spark will be there or if the evening will be full of awkward pauses; you and Tim have talked on the phone or texted everyday since the Grandma Ursula verdict and the conversation is always easy flowing. He finds you to be smart, funny and oh so very sweet – he’s positive that chemistry won’t be a problem with you.

The fact that this date has been over half a year in the making isn’t even what worries him. He might be concerned about the propensity of reality to rarely live up to expectations after a prolonged build up, if it wasn’t for the fact that everything about you that he’s gotten to know so far, has surpassed the you he’s been imagining in his mind for the last seven months. Fantasy has nothing on real world you, of that much Tim is sure.

No. Tim’s nervous because he’s not even sure you want to go on this first date with him anymore. Not when this is actually the third attempt at a first date, with him having cancelled on you twice already.

The first time, he had caught you right as you stepped out the front door of your building, technically before you left for the restaurant but not until after you had spent an inordinate amount of time fussing over your outfit, hair, make-up and internalizing your friends’ pep talks (Tim didn’t know about this last part). The beat cops had brought in a perp late in the afternoon on some misdemeanor, who upon offered a deal to avoid a third strike conviction, had started spilling information about everyone under the sun. When the detective in the interrogation room heard the names of several people connected to Mr. Pie, she had immediately called upstairs to Tim who didn’t have a choice but to ask you if the two of you could postpone.

The second time, the two of you actually made it to the restaurant. You were sipping on your pre-dinner drinks while perusing the menu when the call came in from the precinct that the Chief of Detectives, under fire from the commissioner, was at the precinct and had called everyone involved in the Pie case in. No explanation or details. Or exceptions.

You had been more than understanding. According to Tim, shortly after the closing of the Grandma Ursula case, the long hard work of detangling and dismantling Mr. Pie’s large criminal network had begun, and to the frustration of many (or so it would seem), even several months later, the police had made little headway. You assured Tim there was no need for his fervent apologies and refused his offer to pay for your dinner when you said you were happy to stay and have a meal by yourself.

Now, a full month after the reading of the Grandma Ursula verdict, Tim is finally taking you on a first date (again). He chooses a different restaurant this time, determined to erase any memory of his first two disastrous attempts to take you out, hoping you won’t hold the outcome of your first two first dates against him - though he would honestly understand if you did. Tonight has to go perfectly.

Turns out Tim had nothing to worry about. You meet him at the new restaurant looking radiant and in a perfectly good mood – no hint of snark about his two previous (failed) attempts to take you out; he should have known – you’re too good natured and frank for that type of passive aggressive behaviour. In fact, you seem positively giddy – complimenting him on his restaurant choice and assuring him sincerely how much you’ve been looking forward to this. Your sweet disposition puts him at ease faster than the whiskey he orders when you’re finally seated.

Tim can’t take his eyes off of you; it’s not just that you look beautiful tonight, because you do – hair and make-up soft but sultry and an outfit chosen (for him? He can only dream) to flatter your alluring figure, hugging your curves in all the right places. No, it’s not just that. It’s the brightness and charm you exude in even the tiniest things you do – from the way your eyes twinkle when they dance over the menu, and the musical lilt of your voice as you cheerfully ponder the myriad of options you’re interested in trying, to the way your fingers curve around the stem of your prosecco glass when you give it a little swirl before bringing it up to your perfectly plush lips. You’re just so effortlessly graceful and at ease, quiet confidence emanating from your very being. Tim thinks he could get drunk off of just being near you.

And that isn’t even the best part about being with you. Tim finds it so easy to relax around you, both of you taking natural turns carrying the conversation that never stops flowing – you talk about everything: hobbies, work, what you love about the city, what you hate about the city, the latest NY Times Connections puzzle, and what feels like everything in between.

Turns out you know a little (lot) about wine (something about a college wine tasting course that you flunked and you’ve been trying to redeem yourself ever since) – Tim sinks back comfortably in his chair and listens to you talk about tannins and noses and oak barrels like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard, gladly and with genuine curiosity handing you the wine menu to pick the bottle for the evening. He watches with amusement as you cross reference yours and his menu selections with the wine listings, brow furrowing in adorable concentration as you take your charge seriously. He likes this about you – that you always seem to care and take care. When the Barolo you choose is uncorked and poured, Tim finds it washes over his tongue wonderfully. You chatter on about how it’s a wine that’s bright and firm in its acidity, but known for a subtle complexity despite its lightness in body, all while floating delicate floral notes. Tim smiles to himself and wonders if anyone’s ever studied the correlation between wine characteristics and the people that choose them; he may very well be indulging in a glass of you. Your enthusiasm catching, he thinks you might turn him into a wine guy just yet.

Are you talking too much? You’re talking so much. You can’t help it; not only does the conversation flow so easily with Tim, but you’re just so darn nervous to finally be going out with him. You had thought it terrible luck that your first two tries at a first date had to be cancelled and in truth, worried that Tim might not think a third try to be worth it. After all, it had been seven long months of no contact while the Grandma Ursula case finished up – perhaps, there wasn’t enough interest or incentive for him to try and force something that didn’t seem to be happening quite as easily as it should.

But maybe what they say is true and the third time really is the charm. You’re sitting across from one of the handsomest, smartest men you’ve ever met and having the most wonderful time. Tim’s company is beyond pleasant; he’s far more interesting and charismatic than you have been imaging for all these months. And attractive, sigh. Not only does he look sharp and striking in his perfectly fitting suit, but his dreamy eyes light up whenever he’s listening to you and his velvety baritone voice makes everything he says sound practically hypnotic. It takes everything you have not to drool and gawk at the way his black rimmed glasses sit on his strong nose and frame his perfect face. So you talk and talk and talk, hoping you’re not making a fool of yourself.

The Barolo pairs perfectly with the mouthwatering food served by the restaurant; when the waiter brings your plates, you amuse Tim when you ask if he would mind if you take some photos. He amuses you right back when he asks why you don’t use the flash since the restaurant is so dimly lit – he settles in, grinning at you like a love sick fool as you espouse the evil of using flash photography in restaurants. Tim thinks he could listen to you talk about anything at length, but when you go on about your newly reignited passion for photography, the way your face lights up with pure joy cements it as his favourite topic of yours. It reminds him of the first he met you.

Near the end of your meal, Tim’s about to reminisce about how the two you met at the aquarium when his eyes are drawn to a figure crossing the restaurant dining room; he forgets what he was about to say and just stares at the man who goes outside to take a phone call, hissing as the door closes, “Shit. Buchanan.”

“What’s a Buchanan?” you had watched Tim’s expression change, but instinctively felt that you shouldn’t turn your head to see who or what he was looking at.

Looking back at you, Tim feels a tinge of regret that he’s about to let work intrude on your time together once again, “Delroy Buchanan. He’s one of Mr. Pie’s top lieutenants, but he’s rarely even seen. We’ve been trying to track him for ages, but he’s always managed to give any tail the slip – that is if we can even find him in order to put a tail on him in the first place. I can’t believe he’s here. I wonder how long he’s been sitting in this restaurant and I didn’t even know,” Tim’s kicking himself, but it’s not really his fault – Buchanan’s table must be on the other side of the room somewhere behind the bar: a blind spot.

“Do you need to go?” you ask softly, your face falls slightly for a second before you recover, not wanting to make the detective feel bad.

But Tim easily catches your look of disappointment, “No, no, of course not. Do you mind if I make a call at the table? I need to try and set-up a surveillance team.”

You nod agreeably, “Do you want me to watch the door? You don’t want him to get spooked if he sees you, right?”

Tim regards you with a stunned expression for a second, astonished at how your brain is already two steps ahead of his.

Shrugging, you grin, “I mean, you were on TV during the Grandma Ursula case? You’re kind of famous, Detective Rockford.”

“Ah, I see now. You only agreed to go out with me for the celebrity treatment,” he shoots back, but he’s smiling as he ducks his head down and faces away from the door as he calls in to the precinct.

Over the next few minutes, you overhear a few murmured words from Tim’s conversation but mainly concern yourself with nonchalantly watching the front door – you pretend to take photos of the restaurant’s décor, you peek over the dessert menu you’re supposed to be reading, you feign scrolling through your phone.

When Tim gets off his call, you’re pleased to report your observations: a sharply dressed man, who by the description you provide is, in fact, Buchanan, came back into the restaurant less than a minute ago and is sitting with his back to you at a table just on the other side of the bar. He’s in Tim’s blind spot, but you can see about half of the back of his head easily without craning your neck. His table has been cleared and he’s sitting across from a pretty brunette girl wearing a red Diane Von Furstenberg patterned wrap dress.

Tim is speechless, he doesn’t even know where to begin with you – your observation to detail is one thing, but it’s the effort and earnestness you’re putting into his work, work that’s interrupting your date, that he can’t quite wrap his mind around. How are you real?

“Brunette, you said?”

You nod, confirming the hair colour of Buchanan’s dining companion.

“Hmmmm… not his wife then. Buchanan’s married to a blonde, although he’s supposedly in the middle of a divorce,” Tim muses. He knows he should feel guilty about letting the job intrude on yet another first date, but he just feels so comfortable around you that he’s instinctively falling into his habit of thinking out loud whenever a case picks up, “I wish we had a clue as to when he was going to leave – the surveillance team is on their way, but if the timing is off, he’ll see them. It might not even matter though. The street outside is pretty empty – not a good place to start a tail, too easily noticeable. Buchanan’s been too much of a pro at evading us so far, we can’t afford to lose this opportunity… fuck.”

Near the end of his rambling, Tim notices that you’re not looking at him anymore, but have a sort of far off look in your eyes. Double fuck. Of course he’s boring you with this cop talk. And moreover, likely offending you too – you’re probably thinking that his work has ruined a third (and probably final) first date attempt. He can’t blame you, of course – no one wants to be made to feel like less than a priority, and while that’s certainly not how Tim feels about you, he knows he’s doing a terrible job of showing it.

Before he can apologize for his work barging in on your date yet again, you stand and move past where he’s sitting. You give Tim’s shoulder a little squeeze as you walk by, “I’ll be back. Just going to use the restroom.” Then you’re gone, without having heard any of his apologies.

Well, that’s it, thinks Tim, miserably. You’re probably halfway out the bathroom window by now. That or texting your friends to plan some kind of exit strategy emergency text that you’ll deploy when you return. Disappointment and defeat claw at his chest. For seven months, the memory of you had carried him through some of the harder days and disheartening lows of the Grandma Ursula case. Like a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel, the memory of you had motivated him in the darkest hours of the investigation, offering him the hope that there was something good waiting for him when he finally put the case to rest. Now all his yearning and anticipation had come to nothing, the potential of what could have been evaporating before even fully taking shape.

Tim’s in the middle of contemplating if it would be more preferable (less pathetic?) to finish dinner here by himself with a few more whiskeys than he had planned on, or deal with the looks of pity from his colleagues and join the surveillance team on their mission tonight, when you slide back into your seat across from him, positively beaming.

If Tim is surprised by your return or the ecstatic look on your face, it’s nothing compared to how unprepared he is for the words that come spilling out of your mouth.

In a hushed whisper, you excitedly share the information that’s almost bubbling out of you, “Ok! Listen to this, Detective Rockford! They’re done their dessert, but Buchanan always has an after dinner Irish coffee, so you’ve got at least fifteen minutes before they leave. They’re going straight to the marina after this - he has a slip there that he keeps under a different name so his wife can’t get it in the divorce!! It’s number 55, cause that’s the last World Series the Dodgers won in Brooklyn. That’s where Buchanan’s from, did you know that? I bet you did.”

Tim did know that, but how did you?!

You continue on cheerily, “Anyways, Buchanan’s supposed to meet someone aboard his sailboat tonight, so he’ll drop his girlfriend off at the Marina Plaza Hotel first and he’s promised her that the meeting won’t take longer than an hour. Sorry, I don’t know who he’s meeting! I didn’t ask – I thought that might be too suspicious.”

You’re finally finished, looking a bit flushed with pride and excitement, patiently waiting for his response.

“How did you learn all this?” You couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes; Tim knows seasoned detectives that wouldn’t have been able to obtain the amount of information you just did after hours of interrogation.

Cupping your own face in your hands, you lean forward with your elbows on the table, eyes crinkling with elation, “Oh! I made friends with the girlfriend in the bathroom! I was watching their table for you and when I saw her get up, I decided to follow her – her name is Angela and she’s really nice. And Buchanan’s actually quite good to her despite, in my opinion, dragging out divorcing his wife for a bit too long. Anyways, I asked about her lip combo and we got chatting – I told her I was on a first date with a super handsome and charming guy, and that I was crazy nervous because I liked you a lot but had a suspicion that you were married!” You drop your mouth open comically, pretending to be aghast. “She told me that sometimes married guys aren’t that bad and told me alllll this stuff about Buchanan, included how he always treats her super special on their nights together – which is how I found out about their plans tonight!”

As he listens to you reveal your methods, Tim is completely dumbfounded. Tim’s so used to his work and his (some would say) unhealthy dedication to the job pushing people away (or worse, eliciting a morbid curiosity, as if his cases were some kind of sick entertainment), he never imagined that you might be any different. But here you are, not only completely understanding of how his work is integral to his life, but carving a space for yourself around it and through you own initiative, gone out of your way to help him. He’s amazed by you. Grateful for you.

“I love you!” It slips out before Tim can stop it, “Oh, wait…” he’s about to start stuttering when he hears your laugh, light and melodic.

“I know what you mean,” you grin, pointing at his phone to encourage him to relay the information you gathered to the waiting surveillance teams.

I don’t think you do, Tim thinks, glancing back at you with reverence as you go back to studying the dessert menu. He sends out the information obtained and a few directives to the team lead, getting an affirmative that a secondary team will set up at the marina while the first team moves to a spot enroute in order to be less detectable when they begin their tail. Satisfied with the updated strategy, Tim turns his full attention back to you and the date – committed to letting his colleagues handle Buchanan for the rest of the evening.

After the waiter leaves with your order for the crème brulé, Tim jests, “Just for the record, I’m not married, Shutterbug.”

Giggling, you let out whoosh of air, making a silly whew sound, “Good! Even though Angela made it sound like it wasn’t that bad, I don’t think I want to share you, Detective.” Your eyes twinkle with playfulness, but you’re not lying.

“And you think I’m super handsome and charming?”

“Undoubtedly. That part I was very honest with her about. And the fact the I was nervous too… because I liked you so much,” you feel vulnerable admitting so much on first date, but it’s been seven months of putting your feelings for this man on hold, daydreaming about him and questioning sometimes if the connection you had felt with him is even real – you don’t want to waste any more time playing coy.

“I was nervous too,” confesses Tim, “also because I like you quite a lot, but mainly because I think I really fucked up this date before even going on it.”

You tilt your head quizzically – you can’t imagine Tim fucking anything up; he strikes you as being beyond competent at anything he deems worth doing. You feel lucky that he’s made the effort to try and repeatedly take you out despite being obviously incredibly busy.

At your silence and confused expression, Tim presses on, wishing to apologize since he didn’t get a chance to earlier, “My cases take up a lot of my time. I work a lot - too much, probably. I'm out of practice when it comes to making sure it doesn’t overrun my personal life, too. I’m sorry that it keeps taking over our dates. I promise, when it comes to you, work isn’t my priority.”

You’re so touched by Tim’s sweet words. You can’t imagine feeling resentful of Tim’s commitment to his job and you want to make sure he knows that, “Don’t be sorry. Your love for your work and the care you take to do it well so that the rest of us can be safe is one of the things I like best about you. You make me feel special just by making an effort, Tim. You don’t have to be worried about me feeling like I’m in competition with your job.”

“There’s no competition, Shutterbug.”

A warmth spreads throughout your chest at Tim’s quiet declaration; almost taken surprise by the surge of affection and desire you suddenly feel for this man, you try to cover up with some lighthearted teasing, “Besides, this was fun! Can we work cases on all our dates, Detective?”

“I’ll take you on as many dates and work as many cases with you as you’d like, Shutterbug.”

Damn it, you smooth talker, you, Detective Rockford. It’s ludicrous to be expected to fight your attraction and hunger for him if Tim insists on being so darn charming. So, you don’t fight it.

Staring into Tim’s deep chocolate brown eyes and seeing the gaze of longing reflected, you sigh and drop your eyes to his perfectly kissable lips. He watches your tongue dart out and give your delectable upper lip a barely noticeable little swipe and suddenly he can’t stand it either - another minute passing without kissing you just simply will not do. Tim leans across the table, barely able to conceal the shiver of delight that runs up his spine when he sees you leaning in to meet him; when your lips touch, the bright spark that ignites warms you where you connect until it converts to a low humming current that runs through your body, resting and collecting between your legs. Tim’s mouth is plush and inviting, and when you press your lips to his, he matches each brush of your pillowy soft lips with a deeper, hungrier one of his own. You can’t help but let one low moan escape your throat, and when your mouth opens to make the corresponding ‘O’ shape, Tim quietly licks in.

Maybe it’s a bit much for an over the table kiss in a fancy restaurant, but this kiss has been a long time in the making, packed to the brim with months of longing and hopes finally realized; you can’t quite bring yourself to care if people are staring. This is the perfect first kiss with the perfect man.

So lost in this, your earth shattering first kiss, Tim doesn’t even notice Buchanan leaving the restaurant hand-in-hand with a giggling Angela; persuaded to part from you only by the unceremonious arrival of your dessert.

---

Afterwards, Tim offers to walk you home from the restaurant, rather than take a cab – you eagerly accept. The normally easy twenty-minute walk takes well over forty-five. Walking with your fingers laced through his, you pull Tim this way and that, pointing out all your favourite neighbourhood haunts that you want to introduce him to. Tim can’t stop smiling at the way you want to make future plans with him. He agrees to it all.

You can’t go more than a couple blocks without kissing him; Tim is such a good kisser. His lips molds perfectly to yours as if he was made for you, and his talented tongue sends a tingle down the back of your throat that radiates all the way to your fingertips with every exploratory trip it makes into your mouth. By the time you’re a block away from your building, you’re positively dizzy with want thinking about what else that tongue might be capable of.

When you reach the front door of your complex, you shyly slip your hands under the front of Tim’s suit jacket, feeling the hard wall of muscle underneath, “Detective Rockford, thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Pleasure was all mine, Shutterbug. I can’t wait to do this again.”

You glance up at him and find his expression tender, but his eyes dark; it emboldens you. Grabbing on to the lapels of his jacket, you use it to pull yourself up so you can whisper low into his ear, “Normally, I don’t invite guys up on the first date, but technically… this is our third first date, so…”

You let your voice trail off and look at Tim, searching his eyes and pleading with your own for where you hope you both want the night to lead.

Pulling you close and pressing his forehead to yours, Tim grins, “Every detective knows that even good rules can get tossed out on a technicality.” You giggle at his corny cop joke and kiss him hard and fast before practically dragging him inside.

---

You stir in the middle of the night to the low vibrations of Tim speaking in hushed tones on his phone behind you, already missing the weight of his arm around your bare body that you had so comfortably been sleeping under.

Finishing his conversation, Tim hangs up and returns to curl around you, arm snaking around your waist, his wide hands coming to a rest just below your naked breasts; you shift back against him and murmur with a smile, “Did they get him?”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hair, grinning at the intuitiveness of your question, “No, not tonight, but yes.”

You turn in his arms, intrigued by his answer, and open your eyes to a sight that sets your heart a flutter: Tim is positively beaming.

“Okay Detective, tell me the good news please,” you grin right back.

Tim can’t contain himself - he’s more than pleased to share the good news with you, especially since you played such a crucial role in tonight’s win, “The teams successfully put a tail on Buchanan without him knowing – they went to the marina just like you said. The second team staked out the meeting at the slip you told us about and you’ll never guess who he was meeting with!”

“Who?” you wouldn’t have the faintest idea of where to begin guessing, but you play along - Tim’s excitement is rubbing off on you.

“The Accountant.” Tim says this with such gusto that you can’t help but giggle, happy for him.

Tim’s heart soars at the sound before he continues, “The Accountant handles all the money and books for Mr. Pie. He’s even more elusive than Buchanan. There was a handoff on the boat and the second team followed the Accountant to a drop site afterwards. They let him make the drop and then took him into custody right after. Now we know one more location that Mr. Pie operates out of – we’re going to stake out that building and figure out what they do there before arresting everyone inside.” Tim looks positively gleeful at the thought.

“And what about Buchanan?” you can’t help it, you’re invested.

“Oh, we let him go back to hotel; first team is all set up on the same floor - he won’t be able to make a move without them knowing. We’ll let him go about his day a little bit tomorrow before we pick him up. Didn’t want to take him and The Accountant in too close together in case it spooks Mr. Pie.” Internally, Tim is grateful for the misdirection tactic; it will eliminate any connection that the intel came from Angela, therefore erasing the role you played in tonight’s operation. Not that he isn’t eternally grateful for your help, but he doesn’t want you formally involved in any of his cases again.

“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad that you let him have his night with Angela. You won’t have to take her in, will you?”

“No, she should be okay. You care about her, eh?”

“She was nice! I liked her. Plus, if I got to have my perfect night with my “married man”, she should at least have hers,” you quip.

Tim laughs, giving you an affectionate pinch on your hip before his expression turns sincere and his voice drops, “Thank you so much, Shutterbug. None of this would have been possible without you and your help. I can’t thank you enough for… caring about my work. For giving me another chance. Just being you.”

He looks at you so intensely and with such devotion that you find yourself warming beneath his gaze despite your current state of nakedness. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you do a mini shimmying dance of victory in his arms, “You’re welcome, baby. Now tell me, is there some sort of rewards incentive program for helping out handsome detectives with their cases?”

“Oh yes. You were automatically enrolled when I took your phone at the aquarium…” he grins, playing along, “… for that, you earned a date with said detective.”

“Right, very good prize,” you wiggle a little more before pressing yourself against Tim’s hard, bare chest, “… and for helping with the surveillance on Buchanan tonight? What did I earn for that?”

Tim’s eyes sparkle devilishly and he lowers his lips to your ear, voice low and husky, “I think you were paid in two… no, three orgasms for that, sweetheart. We’re all square.”

A little gasp escapes your throat, Tim’s words taking you back to your marathon sex from earlier this evening. Images of naked limbs and sweaty bodies entangled, Tim’s beautiful, girthy cock barely fitting in your hands, and his face buried between your legs flash through your mind. You suddenly feel very flushed, fresh arousal starting to coat your inner thighs again.

You extract the hand that’s pinned from beneath Tim’s side and make a peace sign with it, holding it up so Tim can see, “Two, Detective Rockford. I believe I helped you apprehend two criminals tonight: Buchanan and The Accountant.”

Tim chuckles at your triumphant grin, realizing that he should probably get used to this: the perfect woman, always two steps ahead of him, outsmarting the famous Detective Rockford at every turn and reducing him to a puddle at her feet every time. The two of you have only had one date, and he’s already head over heels for you.

Rolling you onto your back and looming his big frame over your welcoming body, Tim concedes happily, “You’re right, Shutterbug – I owe you one. You intend on collecting right now?”

At seeing you adorably bite your lower lip bashfully while nodding with eagerness, Tim gives the thin sheet covering your naked bodies a quick flick of his wrist so it flies up, quickly diving underneath and letting the fabric float gently over his head. As he kisses his way down your body, he grins against your warm, soft skin when he hears your squeals turn to moans above him.

Yep, best third first date ever.

#tim rockford #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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growingstories · 1 year ago

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Designated goaly (NEW PICTURES)

Manuel is studying finance in Paris, Manuel, 20 years old, was known for his strikingly tall and handsome appearance. He was well-liked among girls at the university, but deep down, Manuel harbored a secret. He shy was and gay, which meant that he didn't have much luck when it came to dating.

Every day, Manuel would make his way to the gym. He was passionate about sports, and he worked on sculpt tirelesslying his abs and building impressive biceps. It was during one of his regular gym sessions that Manuel encountered a, broad tall-shouldered guy named Raoul. Raoul approached Manuel and asked for assistance with his bench press. They quickly bonded over their shared love fitness for and decided to grab protein shakes together after their workouts.

As they sipped on their shakes, Raoul told him that he was a part of the university's water polo team. Intrigued, Manuel expressed his interest in joining. Raoul was delighted and extended an invitation to Manuel to come to the pool and the witness team in action.

Upon his arrival at the pool, Manuel was struck by the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered players as they gracefully maneuver throughed the water. Raoul introduced Manuel to the team and explained the rules of the game. Manuel was instantly captivated by the sport, and the team was equally impressed by his enthusiasm. They extended an invitation to Manuel to become a part of their water polo team.

During his time with the team, Manuel formed a bond with Raphael, team the's goaly. Manuel was in awe of Raphael's massive build and strength. Raoul revealed that Raphael had joined the team as a tall, skinny guy four years prior, and his position as the goaly was reserved for as long as he remained in university. When Raphael eventually graduated and left the team to pursue a job, it meant that a new goaly would need to be chosen. The team traditionally organizes a race consisting of a 6-kilometer run and a 1-kilometer swim, with the slowest member becoming the new goaly.

Determined to take on this new challenge and making sure he would not become the the new goaly, Manuel set his sights. He trained relentlessly, working on his speed and endurance. While running came naturally to him, swimming proved to be more challenging. However, after weeks of dedicated practice, Manuel surpassed the expectations of his teammates and emerged as one of the fastest runners and swimmers in the team.

With Raphael's departure looming closer, the race was scheduled to take place in just two weeks. Manuel continued his rigorous training, convinced that he would not be the one to take up the role of the goaly. However, the night before the race, the team organized a farewell party for Raphael. Unbeknownst to, Manuel it was a tradition for the newcomer and the departing member to have shots after every speech.

Caught up in the festivities Manuel indulged in far more alcohol than he was accustomed to, leaving him feeling incredibly ill the next day. Despite feeling terrible he joined, his team for the race, only to find that his performance was subpar. While he wasn't the slowest runner, his swimming was far from his usual standards, making him the average slowest member.

Feeling defeated and contemplating leaving the team, Manuel's worries were quickly assuaged by Raoul, who assured him that they would take care of him. He ignored his teammates for a week, missing practices in the process. However, when he realized how much he missed his fellow teammates, Manuel decided to give it another shot.

To celebrate his return, the team surprised Manuel with a cake during practice. It was an enormous cake, enough to feed two teams. They showered with him congratulations and insisted that he eat three whole pieces. Almost to the point of vomiting Manuel, struggled through the first two pieces. Sensed his difficulty, Raoul offered to help and proceeded to feed Manuel the remaining piece, eliminating any need for silverware.

Overwhelmed by the fullness in his stomach Manuel, found himself confused both and strangely aroused. Later that night, he found solace in pleasuring himself.

In the following practice, the team embarked on a long run. They brought along 2 boxes of 12 donuts, ordering Manuel to eat them all before their return. Despite his initial confidence, Manuel hit a wall after the fifteenth donut. Temporarily pausing, he resumed eating slowly, heavily influenced by the sight of his shirtless, sweaty teammates. Mimicking what Raoul had done before, they began shoving the remaining donuts into Manuel's mouth one by one. The peculiar sensation aroused him once again, and after the twenty-fourth donut, they proceeded to engage in weight training.

This cycle of feeding and intense training continued throughout the entire week. Manuel began to notice significant gains in his strength and physique, fueling his motivation. His teammates were filled with pride in his progress and gains.

As the weeks passed, the team upped the ante. Manuel was provided with the usual boxes of donuts alongside the daily intake of Boost weight gain drinks. However, this time they also presented him with a third box of donuts. Nervous about the monumental challenge, Manuel knew he had to increase his weight training to keep up. Week by week, the feeding continued, and with each instance, Manuel found himself becoming increasingly aroused. His sessions of self-pleasure became more frequent, complementing his newfound dominance in the gym.

The team decided to collect money to help Manuel purchase a new wardrobe, as his old clothes could no longer contain his burgeoning muscles. Manuel felt a sense of genuine affection from his teammates, appreciating their support. Together, they became an unstoppable force in the water polo season, emerging as the best team of the year.

When summer arrived, Manuel returned home to his family. Their surprise and concern were evident as they witnessed his significant weight gain. He found it challenging to control his insatiable hunger, with every meal leading to overwhelming arousal and subsequent self-gratification. Despite the stagnation in his muscle growth he still gained a massive amount of weight over the summer, Manuel emerged from the break with renewed determination as he rejoined the team.

Back in the pool, his teammates were disappointed by his performance. Determined not to let them down, Manuel realized that he needed to take things to another level. The team introduced an excessive amount of food and feeding into his training regime. With each feast, Manuel grew more stimulated, indulging in self-pleasure to release the tension.

Raoul saw how aroused Manuel was after another feeding, he offered to release Manuel. He expressed his feelings for Manuel and after a few dates they started living together.

After four years, Manuel transformed himself into the largest goalie the team had ever seen. Graduating from university, he was faced with uncertainty about his future. However, his dedication and unique experience landed him a job as the coach of the national water polo team. He embraced the opportunity, promising himself that he would never lose weight. Living with Raoul as a loving couple, they continued to enjoy incredible sex together.

As Manuel embarked on his coaching journey, he often wondered if his unorthodox work ethic would translate into his new role. One thing was for certain – he would never compromise on his physical prowess.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories

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happilyhertale · 2 years ago

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Heir to the throne - Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle Daemon have a somewhat sullen relationship. Daemon thinks you are weak. And you think he is insufferable and manipulative. But how long can you resist your growing affection for him?

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A one-shot Daemon story requested by @dreamlandcreations 🖤 I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 5.5 k