#chip u especially need to see this one and draw him in the pride and prejudice field just look at him

[derekstilinski]

Joel Fry as Adam Newton in Exposed (2009)

[zyafics]

BROTHER'S RIVAL | 03

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — You and your brother were born Pogues, but once your family made enough to move to Figure Eight, you became a Kook. Unfortunately, Rafe doesn't welcome Pogue-born Kooks. It doesn't help that your brother is determined to steal the 'King of Kook' title from him. So, if your brother is attempting to steal something from him, Rafe will return the favor.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, and usage of drugs.

Rafe: i don't like being ignored after giving u the best orgasm of ur life

You didn't expect to see that message flash on your screen. Especially since you're with your brother, helping him load all the shit he bought from Heyward's into the back of his truck. You didn't even know he got a truck.

Lowering your brightness, you type back a haste reply.

You: don't type that shit Dean sometimes reads my text

Rafe: but it's true

You: that's an overstatement

Rafe: how about you come over here and we'll test that?

You: no, thanks i'm with my brother

Rafe: maybe he should fuck off

You roll your eyes at the message, just as your brother calls your name. Slipping the phone into your back pocket, where you are positive Dean won't be able to reach, you turn back to see him standing on the trunk of his truck with his arms outstretched.

"Did you hear me? Bring me the next case." He declares, his tone chipped with semi-annoyance at your distraction. You were about the grab the box, but with his attitude, you decided to put your hand on your waist and stare him down instead.

"Do I look like a dog to you? Say it nicer."

Dean sighs but doesn't argue back. Rather, he prepares himself to lunge through the next few words. "My dearest sister, the light of my life, the only person in the world who I would kill for, can you pass me the goddamn beer?"

Close enough.

You reach for one of the cases of booze set near your feet and hand it off to Dean, who easily takes it off of you and stacks it in the back of his cargo bed with the rest.

"I still don't understand the plan here." You confess, picking up another box and starting a momentum. "You're going to host a party, so what? What does that gotta do with anything?"

Your brother decided that he wanted to start hosting parties at your house. Since now he's intersecting himself into more Kook spaces, he wants to also start stripping away the pride of certain members too. According to Dean, Rafe is the top host for the grandest parties on the island—his containing a multitude of wild nights and adventures, all oozed out of his all-expensive paid amenities.

But you, for the life of it, don't understand how this has anything to do with his goals. Dean confirmed, after your little encounter with Rafe on the golf course, that he did have plans on taking the title of Kook King from Rafe. That Rafe's hatred of him was not unwarranted. However, he didn't tell you why.

All you know is that for the duration of this summer, your brother is going to do everything he can to convince the rest of the Kooks to follow after him.

Dean sighs, approaching you at the far end of the tailgate, crouching down till his face is to your level. "It's simple. Kooks are superficial and flimsy. They are only loyal to the Camerons because they have money. So, we need to shift the tides."

You are not getting in the middle of this.

"We—" you gesture to yourself, then to your brother, "are not doing anything. You are trying to do something with something we don't have a lot of. AKA, money."

While your brother does have a cushy job that pays better than most living in The Cut, and your mother secured herself as a respectable accountant who works with several high-profile Kooks—your family is nowhere at the levels that the Camerons is.

Dean chuckles. He finds it humorous that you're trying to distance yourself from this ongoing rivalry, drawing a line that you would not cross. Though, he knows, you would choose his side if it came down to it. "I know," he agrees with a nod. "But that's not the only way we can even the playing field. We can get power elsewhere."

"You do realize that this is just a meaningless feud between the Kooks and the Pogues, right?" You remind your brother. You know that he's competitive and stubborn; when he sets his mind on something, nothing you can or do can change it. "That it's not going to matter in the long run?"

His jaw locks and it takes several beats before he answers. "It matters to me."

Your older brother pushes himself back up to his height, jumping off the trunk onto the ground, and starts carrying the boxes himself. Without your assistance. You feel like you pushed a button you didn't know existed, and step back timidly.

"Fine, tell me," you announce after a few minutes of unbearable silence, trying to retain Dean's attention. "How are you planning on getting power?"

"No, you don't care."

You grab your brother's arm before he hauls the next case onto the cargo bed. Finally, he turns to you. "But, you care," you rectify, in a small voice, "so that means I care too. What is your genius plan, Lucky?"

Dean lights up at the nickname you used. An inside joke between the two of you. When you were children, you two were obsessed with the film Lilo & Stitch—so much that you had adopted the nicknames as your own. However, for the better part of your childhood, you had a difficult time remembering it was Lilo. You kept calling it Lucky. In turn, you kept calling your brother 'Lucky.'

"Alright." He sets his current case on the tailgate, turning back to give you his full attention. "Y'know how Kook doesn't just party? They do a lot of other shit too. They smoke. They do drugs. They fuck one another on the off-chance that they could gain something from it—a job, an inside scoop, maybe even the life of a housewife."

You raise your brow at his example. "Men can't be the sluts?"

"Can you let me speak?"

You raise both your arms in surrender. He cuts you a playful annoyed look before continuing on his mastermind.

"So, that means, Kooks change loyalty based on whoever has most access to the things they want. The drugs, the alcohol, the parties. Everything. If I can take that away from Rafe, they will shift their loyalty."

You cross your arms, considering his words. "You can't honestly believe that's true. They have more loyalty than that."

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, the firmness in his voice makes you wonder how he's so confident about it. "They're not like Pogues. Loyalty isn't the only thing they have left."

You don't respond. Instead, you remember. You can't shake off the rising guilt in your gut, knowing what happened the other day with Rafe—your brother's enemy—and how your brother still doesn't know. While you don't consider yourself a Pogue anymore, you know you are loyal to one thing.

Dean.

Your family.

This, you are certain.

In that moment, you decided that you need to put some distance between yourself and Rafe. That whatever happened that night was a one-time thing, a flunk in the system, a brief moment of vulnerability.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again and this time, you pull it out, expecting to see another text from Rafe.

Unknown: come on, don't ignore me

You swallow hard, clenching your phone in your palm. Dean has returned back to lodging his cases onto his trunk, picking up his own routine without you.

"Hey, Dean," you call out, to which your brother hums in response. "Have you talked to... him?"

It takes a moment for your brother to register who you are referring to, and his whole body goes rigid. "No," he says with gritted teeth, not bothering to hide his discontent. "I blocked that bastard months ago."

He glances down at your phone clutched in your hand. "Didn't you?"

You know you should. You know it would be better for you. But, something in you just doesn't allow it to happen. That you wonder, for a moment, if he would ever change and need help. To get back on his feet. To make amends. You couldn't let that happen without you.

"Yeah," you lie, "I was just curious."

—

The party is full of Kooks. You didn't expect this many people to show up, especially knowing that they're supposed to be resenting you and your brother, but somehow you were proven wrong. Perhaps it's because Dean went all-out that drove them, or because Kooks didn't like to miss out on something on their own street, but they're here.

You wonder, for a split moment, if what your brother said has some merit.

The party wasn't just Kooks. He invited the Pogues too. Unlike you, where your friends dropped you upon learning that you were moving to Figure Eight and you didn't care enough to keep in touch—Dean carefully kept in contact with his childhood buddies. Because, at heart, Dean still sees himself as a Pogue.

You didn't care. You took advantage of it. Dressed in your best party outfit—a skirt that barely covered anything, a top with such a large cut that practically revealed your cleavage—and a fuck-it attitude, you descended to the party and have fun.

You drank, danced, and even grind against a couple of guys on the dance floor.

That's when it hits you. Where is Dean? Usually, by the time the second guy got too handsy with you, he would appear out of nowhere to shove the guy off. An overprotective streak that you can't help but roll your eyes to, it's also a measured move that allows you to know when and where your brother is at all times.

Taking the final sip of your drink, the liquor of mixed fruits and vodka slipping down your throat with a burn, you separate from the guy to search for your brother. He wasn't outside, where most of everyone is, lounging around the lit pool; he wasn't on the roof, where Kooks were jumping off the ledge into the water below; he wasn't gone—his truck was still here. When you went inside, you searched the first floor to find him nowhere in sight. That's when you head upstairs. Opening the door to your room, you didn't find Dean.

You find Rafe instead.

"What the hell?" You exclaim, your words slightly slurred as you step into your bedroom and lock the door behind you. Rafe turns around, his previous attention paid to the various frames decorating your walls now pins onto you. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I heard there was a party," he shrugs, his demeanor completely casual while his hands rested inside the pockets of his khaki shorts. "Thought I'd check it out."

"The parties downstairs,"

"Huh," he hums, feigning innocence. "I must've gotten lost."

You aren't satisfied because, despite your intoxicated state, you can clearly see through his lies. Crossing your arms over your chest, you accuse, "thought you gave yourself a house tour the other night?"

"I did," he chuckles, closing the distance. His height towers over your own, and as he meets your gaze, a smirk rises over his face. "I got distracted."

You swallow hard, your heart skipping several beats knowing exactly what he's alluding to. It doesn't help that Rafe carries the same look behind his eyes—the same glint he had when he made you come.

"You know," Rafe begins, trailing down the length of your body, causing heat to bloom under your skin, before meeting your eyes again. "I talked to girls before and none of them has ever made me work as hard as you."

He's referring to the fact that, while you're replying to his texts, after your talk with Dean, they've been mostly monosyllabic answers. One-sided attempts at a conversation. You thought he would take the hint to leave you alone.

Once again, you're wrong.

You cross your arms and challenge him, "Go talk to one of your girls, then."

"Nah."

You don't know if it's the alcohol or his words, but your entire body is buzzing. You should leave, and go back to your search—what were you looking for again?—but something made you stay rooted in your spot. Rafe takes note of your internal battle and takes advantage of it.

Moving even closer, until he's nothing but a breath away, Rafe lowers himself to your level, his mouth right beside your ear. "You know what I can't stop thinking about?"

"How you can't seem to take no for an answer?"

"No," he chuckles, his breath fanning the crook of your exposed neck. "You and your little moans as you called out my name."

Your legs squeeze together, arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach as your mind flashes to the vivid memories of that night. Of Rafe touching you and making you come with the skillfulness of his hands. You can't help but imagine what he could do with his tongue.

Pulling together whatever little restraint you have left, you set a hand on his chest. "Well, cherish it. Because it's not going to happen again."

You're proud of how steady your voice sounds. It's almost believable.

But Rafe doesn't look completely convinced. A cocky smile forms on his face, his eyes diligently scanning your features, picking you apart under his scrutiny.

"You don't believe that."

"I—" You begin, stuttering. Goddammit. "I do. I'm serious."

His hand raises to cup the side of your profile, the pad of his thumb drags across the plump of your bottom lip and they part unconsciously. His smirk broadens.

"Look at you opening up for me. Showing me how much you want me."

You internally groan. He's so infuriating, hot, and obnoxious, that you can't believe you're falling for any of it. You need to do something. Flattening both hands on his firm chest, you give him a light shove, forcing him to release.

Turning, you head for the exit when Rafe captures your wrist, spins you around, and crashes his lips onto yours.

Everything zeros into this moment. All those nightly fantasies of Rafe kissing you finally come to life as he groans against the taste of you. His hand travels to the nape of your neck and holds it tight, using it to steady himself as he presses closer, pulling you in, needing to feel nothing but skin-on-skin.

And you allow it. You don't know if it's because of the vodka mixers you had, or because Rafe is just an incredible kisser, but the way he sucks the plump bottom of your lips draws out a breathy moan, and your skin buzzes with fervent heat. His free hand descends down to grab yours, before placing it against the hard bulge under his pants.

"Do you feel what you do to me, princess?" He murmurs against your vodka-stained lips. "I fucking need you."

Your eyes connect with his, but meet nothing but the pitch-black of his dilated pupils. "You're drunk," you say breathlessly.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, leaving tingles in its place, before he confesses, "Not enough."

Then, his mouth meets yours again.

Without breaking for air, Rafe steps forward, causing you to step back. It becomes a two-person dance, and it doesn't end until the back of your heels hits the frame of your bed, tumbling you onto the mattress.

Rafe is immediately on you. Your back flattens against the sheets, your heart thundering, as Rafe parts from the heavy kiss to lay wet ones on the side of your throat, teasingly, nibbling the tender skin until he leaves a mark, before moving down to the valley of your breasts.

Half of you wish you weren't wearing such revealing clothes. The other half wished they were already gone.

Your core aches as Rafe's hands fall between your legs, skimming the short skirt, until he feels the patch of your panties. "You're so gorgeous," he confesses, before chuckling at the slickness collecting on his fingertips, "and wet."

He tells you to lift your hips and you oblige. Removing your skirt, he toss it to the floor, and his eyes zoom into the red pair of panties you decided to wear tonight.

"Did you know red's my favorite color?" Rafe asks. You shake your head softly. "Do you know why?"

"Anger issues?"

He grins, his thumb gently stroking the drenched spot in a way that causes your hips to buck off the bed. But he pins you back down. "It's because it's a good color to fuck to."

"Never knew you were the type of guy to set the mood."

"Didn't need to. You did it all for me."

You open your mouth to retort when his thumb massages your clit in such a sensual manner, a moan rips from you. Rafe watches the way your eyes flutter from the ounce of pleasure, how easily stimulated you are by his touch, and he revels in that feeling.

"You want me," he murmurs, full of confirmation this time, but you don't answer. Rafe watches the way your teeth sink to your bottom lip, embarrassment flushing your face as you refuse to accept it. "Say it."

"You want me," you correct, changing the subject as you arch into his hand.

His fingers stop their magical strokes, and you whine. "No, princess, you want me. I want to hear you say it."

Desperation seeps. Your core aching, pleading for stimulation, and he is right there. You have half a mind to push him off and finish the yourself, voyeurism included. But, you don't. As your eyes connect with him, you breathe out with reluctance, "please make me come."

It isn't exactly what he wanted, but he takes it.

His fingers slip under the band of your panties, pulling them off and discarding them. You thought he would do the same methods as the other night, his fingers finding your sweet spot, but he surprises you when he lowers his mouth and finds your swollen nub.

"Shit," you whisper breathily, his mouth suctioning the clit in a manner that causes your back to arch. Your hands go to find his hair, threading your fingers through his roots as you grind on his face. "That feels so good."

"You taste so fucking good," Rafe growls, the vibration of his words causing your stomach to tighten. When he sees how responsive you are to him, he slips two fingers into your pussy, feeling your walls immediately fluttering around his digits.

He fingers you, as he sucks on your clit. The double stimulation causes your head to spin and your heart to hammer out of your chest, your stomach coils with the familiar pang of pleasure.

"Oh my god, Rafe," you moan, gripping his hair tighter. For a moment, you're afraid of hurting him, but it's quickly dismissed when he flattens his tongue against your slit.

"Say my name louder."

"Rafe."

"Would you do anything I say to come?" Rafe asks, taking the opportunity to get something from you. And you're willing.

"Yes," you whimper, tipping your head back against the bed. "Anything."

"Moan louder for me, baby."

You do.

"Play with your tits."

Your hands push up your top till your breasts are exposed, using a hand to grope the flesh, brushing your fingers through your perked nipples. Groaning from pleasure, it arouses Rafe further, his fingers penetrating deeper and faster into your cunt, while his mouth returns to your clit.

"Oh, god," you moan, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as your pleasure crescendos through your body. Your legs attempt to squeeze close from the sensitivity, to push Rafe out, but with one strong arm, he widens them instead. "Please don't stop."

Rafe doesn't respond but you can feel him grinning into your pussy, flattening his tongue across your slit as your core pulses around his digits. Nothing at this moment could be more perfect, the slow-burning building to your orgasm, the pleasure rippling through your veins.

Nothing can ruin it.

Until you hear your brother calling out your name.

"Shit," you swear, your heart rate spiking through the roof, and a hand slips between your thighs to push Rafe away. But he doesn't move. "Rafe—fuck," a clever roll of his tongue against your heat causes your mind to short-circuit, and you limp back onto the bed as Dean's voice grows louder.

Like he's outside your door.

"Rafe, please," you beg.

"Please what?" Rafe taunts, lifting his head from between your thighs, the lower half of his face dripping with your arousal, while his eyes gleamed that same mischief he had the other night. "Make you come? Or stop?"

You don't know what you want either, and it doesn't help that Rafe continues to stroke your cunt, his thumb rubbing your clit to make up for the absence of his hot mouth. Your legs twitch from the act, again, attempting to close around him, but he pushes them further apart.

Your door rattles. And Dean calls out your name again.

"Are you in there?" He asks, "are you okay?"

No, you want to rasp, but nothing comes out. Rafe grins devilishly, before lowering himself back onto your clit and sucks harder—quickening the arrival to your blinding climax.

"Rafe," you whisper roughly, your mind caught between two forces. The door continues to rattle as Dean tries to force the lock open, a protective trait of him needing to make sure you're okay, while Rafe has you in the most compromising position.

With the worst person.

"Go out with me."

"What?"

You think you heard him wrong, that Rafe definitely isn't asking you out while he's between your legs. But you didn't. Rafe lifts his head and repeats the question once more. "Go out with me."

"I—"

"Come on," Rafe soothes, his fingers fastening their strokes, your walls clenching around him. "Go out with me. Or else, your big brother's gonna come in and see you mid-orgasm."

"W–What do you mean?"

"I know you don't want me to stop," Rafe taunts with a smirk, "And I know your brother probably got some way of getting that door to open. So, you got two choices: either accept my date and come, or your big brother is gonna see me between your legs."

"I—" Your breath shudders as Rafe's signet cool ring presses against your heat. "You're despicable."

"Yet I'm here," Rafe lowers himself back on your clit, sucking languidly as if you don't have a threatening force outside your door, seconds from being let in. Your heart piercing out of your chest. "Come on, princess, go out with me."

Your mind is caught in a tailspin. Half of you want to tell him to fuck off, that you can't believe Rafe is using your moment of weakness to coerce you into a date, but the other part is wrapped in the absolute pleasure of your onslaught orgasm. The white-searing hot power that's coursing down your spine.

"Fuck," you say breathily, eyes fluttering shut from the way Rafe suctions on your clit. "Fuck, fuck, okay, okay. I–I'll go out with you."

You don't see it, but Rafe is grinning between your thighs. He goes faster, harder, pushing you over the edge as you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moans leaving your lips.

And just in that moment, the locks disengages.

With whatever mental capacity you have left, you quickly shove Rafe onto the floor and throw your blanket over your body. Dean barges into the room, blinking out his drunken haze, while his eyes scans the space for any disruptions.

"Did you hear me?" He asks with a subtle slur, scanning your face to see you comfortable in bed. He doesn’t know what got you here. "I've been calling out to you."

Your heart is hammering, and you pray that Dean doesn't approach the bedframe or look on the floor to find any semblance of his enemy hiding out. Rafe, thankfully, doesn't make a sound—though, you’d imagine he's hiding behind a cocky smile at the situation he's in.

"I—" you don't know how to answer him, "I was listening to music. Sorry."

"Oh," Dean says, taking the excuse as acceptable. He glances back at the door. "Why was your door locked?"

"It—it's a party," you explain, surprised at how easy the lie is flying off your tongue. "I didn't want drunk people to stumble up here and have sex on my bed."

"Right, right, smart," Dean nods, and he turns back around. "Alright. I'm going back down. Sleep tight."

You hum back in response as Dean stumbles out of your room, and you finally feel like you can expel a breath. The moment the lock clicks, Rafe lets out a rich laugh, straightening himself into a sitting position as he turns his head and connects his gaze with yours.

"Nice lie."

"Fuck off."

"Can't, you promised me a date," Rafe grins cheekily, pulling himself to his feet while he holds out something in his hand. "I think this belongs to you."

Your panties.

You snatch it from him, heat flushing your face as you want to nothing more than to bury yourself into your sheets. Well, you technically already did. Regardless, Rafe takes one final look around the room, at you, before he says, "I'll text you." And before he leaves, he gives you a sharp look and a reminder, "And actually respond."

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Navigation — Part 02 | Part 03 | Part 04

[kyoomiii]

♡ Confession mishaps [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ hey i was wondering if you could do a kenma kuroo and bokuto (separately and if u do that many😂) where they try to ask their crush out but since the crush had been bullied in middle school, she thinks it’s a prank and kinda gets upset? thank u sm! ❞

― 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @ anonie ​ ―

- ✎ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ❝ kenma, kuroo, and bokuto ❞

- [ 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): there aren’t any explicit mentions of the bullying, however there are references to insecurities ]

- ⚘ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 ❝ fluff, angst if you squint ❞

❝ sorry for the long wait anonnie, but hopefully this is to your liking <3 ❞

-yoomi ♡

The experience as a whole is new to Kenma. He had never taken interest in people before, always wary but never seeking. 

He didn’t understand the clench of his heart, or the flush of his cheeks. He doesn’t know why you make his heart thunder in his chest, beating so quickly he fears it might pop out. 

He doesn’t get it, so he ignores it, let it be the way it is because thinking about it too much gives him a headache, it fills him with anxiety. 

On the other hand, Kuroo, he notices, sees the lingering glances from his friend and the gentle pink that dusts the apples of Kenma’s cheeks. He’s probably more excited about the whole ordeal than Kenma himself is, and he definitely can’t help that he feels he has to meddle a little, because at this point he fears Kenma will let the opportunity slip. Especially now as he inwardly cringes at Kenma's lack of motivation, despite the obvious (to him at least) longing in Kenma’s eyes.

“Kenma-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t have to… I already know it’s going to be a bad idea.”

“Ouch, I was just going to say that you should tell y/n about your little crush, ya know before someone beats you to it.”

“I do not have a crush.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too~”

“Whatever…”

“So you do!”

“... No.”

As the day draws to a close, Kuroo somehow manages to recruit Lev into his little devious scheme. The poor tall unsuspecting kitten is oblivious to the dangerous glint in Kuroo’s eyes. Even now, as the two peer around the corner of the entryway, eyes locked onto the pudding haired boy they call their fiend.

Their attention quickly snaps to you as you enter the scene, walking at a mild pace as you go to meet the unsuspecting Kenma, who stiffens at your sudden appearance, shoulders visibly tensing.

You were never close to Kenma, you were in the same grade and shared some classes, but the interactions remained limited, only ever resulting in conversations regarding schoolwork, or the occasional greeting. 

Even so, you had found yourself engrossed by the  boy who spoke so little some didn’t think he had a voice. He was in a way enchanting, to you at least. And perhaps you had grown a little too fond of him, admiring from afar, but keeping distance out of fear.

So it truly did surprise you when you received that little piece of paper, words written just a tad bit messy, and the words nothing short of sweet and endearing. The piece signed with a simple “from Kenma”

“Kozume-san I received your letter, it was very sweet.”

“...Letter?”

“Your love letter…?”

“Why would I send you a love letter?”

Kenma knows, as soon as your brows pinch, frown etched into your features he had messed up. He didn’t mean to sound harsh but your sudden appearance, and the mention of a love letter from him nonetheless startled him beyond belief. He liked you of course, but he needed time to ease into it, and this sudden crash of feelings and uncertainty filled his entire being with anxiety.

“I see… I’m sorry to have bothered you Kozume-san. Forgive me, I should have known better.” 

He doesn’t miss the little scoff that falls from your lips, or the way that tears threaten to spill from those eyes that he’s grown to love so much. 

“Have a nice day.”

“-Wait l/n-san.”

Kenma is surprised he can even hear his own voice, especially as his heart beats faster than it ever has before. He must’ve been a little loud, he concludes judging by your surprised expression.

“I...Eh…”

“Kozume-san?”

“I do like you… I just didn’t send that letter.”

An eruption of feelings explode within you like fireworks lighting up the night sky. You feel your breathing suddenly stop as your lungs suddenly find themselves unable to function properly as your brain malfunctions. He likes you back.

“l/n-san?-”

“I like you too!”

The sudden outburst leaves behind an awkward silence, both faces flushed hands sweating as you stare at one another unsure and panicked.

“Just y/n.”

“What?”

“Please just call me y/n.”

“Then please call me Kenma.”

And as you gently grasp onto his hand, the two of you become too distracted to notice the grinning cats just around the corner.

“KISS ALREADY!”

“Oh my god…”

Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing short of honest, he knows this, and deep down it’s something he prides himself in. However his current predicament is churning the little devious gears in his head.

Something as simple as an ex-girlfriend who can’t seem to take a hint has been driving him up the wall, and he is more than tired- he is downright exhausted.

For weeks on end it seems as if she’s around every corner, lurking, waiting, watching. Just to pounce on him, begging to get back together. And being the honest man he is, he tells her the same thing over and over.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

And today she seemed to be especially present, tailing after him when she could and bothering him to the point where he felt like he might explode.

Don’t get him wrong, he still cared for her to an extent, she was a friend before she was someone he had romantic feelings for and he didn’t want to burn that bridge between them. But still, things were getting out of hand and maybe a little push would stir her away.

Peeking around the corner he makes a break for it, however, despite his best attempts at hiding it seems that his height and unmistakable rooster bed head places him at a disadvantage.

“Tetsu-kun!”

Quick, he thinks as his eyes dart around the hall, landing on face after face until he recognizes someone he knows.

Dodging bodies and receiving dirty glares from students who were nearly trampled, he swiftly makes his way over to you. 

You had known Kuroo Tetsurou since your first year of highschool, the two of you were friends, and you often hung out with him and the other third years on the Nekoma volleyball team, but your platonic feelings for him soon grew into something much more.

He was sweet after all, a genuine person with good intentions even if his face and his naughty grin said otherwise. 

You were never sure if your feelings would be returned so you kept quiet, admiring from a distance as he held the hand of another girl, because you didn’t feel like he would spare you a glance in terms of romance.

But as he comes barreling towards you, his frame pinning you to the wall, face much too close to be played off as anything but romantic, you hope that maybe, just maybe there might be something there that isn’t platonic, that isn’t him looking at you as if you were just a friend.

“Tetsurou-”

“Shh…”

Flustered and embarrassed you stay quiet hiding your face away from the prying eyes of students who are curious at the scene playing out before them. 

Much to your dismay and relief, the moment lasts for only a mere fraction of a minute, and Kuroo releases you with a sigh.

“Thanks for playing along y/n.”

Your hopes are immediately crushed, but at the same time you chide yourself because you should know better. Someone like Kuroo Tetsurou would never admire you the way you admired him.

“It’s… No problem.”

And you don’t mean for your voice to waver, or for your hands to tremble as you become flustered beyond belief for thinking otherwise.

“If you don’t mind I need to go.”

You speak hurriedly because you fear that he’ll see the way your eyes water, or hear the way your voice wavers.

“Wait y/n!”

Despite the call of your name you don’t stop, you can’t stop, you can’t let him see you like this because he’ll see right through you with those perceptive eyes.

It’s only the gentle grip of a hand around your wrist that brings you to a halt, hazel eyes peering down at you as you struggle to gently tug away from his hold on you.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“It’s okay Tetsurou, really.”

“No, I clearly upset you and what I did wasn’t cool…”

“That’s not why I’m upset.”

You huff, the tears you tried so hard to hold in spilling down your cheeks and landing on the linoleum flooring in small puddles. You inhale shakily eyes closing for a moment to recoup, you decide that it might as well be now than never.

“I just- really like you. And I don’t know, I felt I had a chance a second ago. It was silly of me to think that. It’s okay if you don’t return my feelings- or heck if you don’t want to be friends anymore I get it.”

Kuroo is shocked, eyes wide and mouth almost agap. He’s almost speechless, after months of pinning he thought it was obvious.

“You’re so dense you know that?”

“.....What?”

“I like you too. I thought I was making that obvious.”

His obnoxious laughter that you’ve grown to love fills the now empty halls.

“How about I take you on a proper date, this weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

If there was one way you’d describe Bokuto Koutarou it would be sunshine. Sure he had a knack for falling into his so-called “emo mode” but even then he seemed to pick himself up just as quick as he’d let himself fall. 

It was something you admire most about him, his endless bounds of energy that seemed to radiate from his dazzling being. Bokuto Koutarou is nothing short of a ray of sunshine.

On the other hand another word you’d use to describe him would be dense.

Could he really not tell your interest in him? Or was it that he chose to ignore it? Did he purposefully disregard your lingering glances, your shy touches, or you softening eyes? He had no obligation to return your feelings, you understood that. But that factor didn’t ease the continuous chipping curiosity had at your mind.

Even now, as Bokuto comes bounding up to you, frame as broad as always and grin stretched wider than the sea.

“y/n~”

He calls before completely engulfing you with his whole body weight sending both of you tumbling to the ground.

“Koutarou you can’t just do that.”

Your whines of disapproval trail through one ear and out the other as his bubbling laughter sounds throughout the gym.

“I’m sorry y/n I’m just so happy to see you.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up, your palms becoming sweaty at his sudden declaration. You knew Bokuto was always open with his affections, always one to be friendly to anyone and everyone, but the thought of him being happy to see you seemed to set your heart aflutter.

Nevertheless you try to brush those feelings aside, gently ruffling the hair atop his head, something that had quickly become a norm after he expressed his fondness of the action.

“I’m happy to see you too Kou.”

“Let me just grab my stuff and we can get going.”

He chimes happily as he releases you from his hold, bounding off to the locker room to retrieve his belongings. His broad shoulders face you, and it’s then that he doesn’t see the look of yearning in your eyes.

“You should tell him how you feel.”

A voice suddenly states, startling you from your trance, Their words registering in your head quickly, sending a flare to your face.

“I don’t know what you mean Akaashi.”

You stutter out, though Akaashi doesn’t seem to be the least bit convinced. His emerald eyes hold clear skepticism as he quirks a brow at you.

“l/n-san, you’d have to be blind not to see your clear infatuation with him. But if you’re not up to it I won’t intervene. It’s not my place.”

His damage is swift and powerful, leaving you in a state of bewilderment despite him leaving just as quickly as he arrived. Akaashi Keiji could be scary…

“ y/n, is something the matter?”

“Ah-Kou. No, just some stuff of my mind I guess…”

“Kay… But I hope you know I’m always going to be here, so you can tell me anything you want.”

And for what seemed like the millionth time that day, your heart began beating rapidly, pounding in your chest to the point where through the duration of the entire walk home you couldn’t hear anything but the constant thumping in your ears despite Bokuto’s ramblings. Akaashi’s words playing in your mind like a broken record “You should tell him how you feel”

“Koutarou I like you.”

For the first time silence falls between both of you and you fear you may have ruined one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

“As in like like?”

“I mean… What other like is there…?”

His laughter feels the air, and suddenly you feel the world around you crashing down.

“I like you too. I thought I was making it obvious.”

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, golden eyes emitting pure happiness.

“What?”

“I like you too y/n… I guess we’re both a little dense huh?”

Dense indeed.