#this is the first one i did bc it's just SO precious

[luluy33art]

Chloe's Second Chance AU

(ik I'm so creative with names)

A 24-year-old Chloe returns to her 13-year-old body a few days before the events of the show

She is a way more mature Chloe who learned from her mistakes after going to therapy (and after being exiled to New York and becoming independent from Audrey)

She considers New York her true home cuz she never felt truly loved in Paris

After getting better, she was able to be friends with Adrien again, but their relationship was never the same

She had many part-time jobs to be able to survive without Audrey's help

WHEN SHE RETURNS

She freaks out the first few hours and desperately searches for a way to come back home, but after calming down a bit, she sees this as an opportunity to apologize, she still looks for a way to come back tho

She want to go back cuz she doesn't want to go through everything with her shitty family again (being humiliated by Audrey, being traded by the parent who thought he loved her for her half-sister who doesn't even share blood with him, being exiled by him...)

Chloé plans to apologize to everyone, but the priority is Marinette (because she was the one she treated the worst) and she decides it with a apology letter. After finishing the letter she receives a message from Adrien

ADRIEN

He thanks Chloé for persuading his father and says if he goes to school, it will be thanks to her. Chloé sends him a message that she is 100% sure that he will succeed. But she also tells him he doesn't need to be with her all the time anymore and suggest to pretend they don't know each other, feeling guilty about his rough start at school bc he was friend with her.

Adrien is confused and thinks Chloé doesn't want to be friends anymore, despite all the messages, Chloe doesn't answer him anymore. Adrien despairs wondering what happened and has deja vu, feeling abandoned again (mommy issues) his determination to go to school becomes 10 times more intense to find out what happened with Chloe

Adrien still helps Fu, but he's more stubborn this time and pushes Nathalie's hand away, which distracts Gorilla so that he can actually go on the first day this time

He hugs Chloé, causing a scene. When asked if they are a couple, Chloé firmly says they are just friends

She said it firmly and without hesitation. Adrien feels a lump in his throat, but he wonders why, obviously they are friends and always have been so why does it feel so painful?

That's because he recently felt for the first time that he could actually lose Chloe, that friend who was there since he was practically born. Added to the fact that he had recently lost another important person (Emilie) makes him become a little possessive of Chloe

...

Cloe: Are you sure? I still feel that it will be difficult for you to get along with the others if they know that you are my friend...

Adrien: As I said I don't need a friend who doesn't like you

....

Marinette: Are you friends with Chloe? 

Adrien noticed Marinette's obvious dislike towards her friend, he frowns 

A: You know what? Nevermind

He turns around, angry, knowing that Marinette is one of those people he won't become friends with. And Marinette just rolls her eyes 

ALYA

Chloé avoids Marinette and is surprised when Alya greets her enthusiastically. Chloé freaks out at the sudden greeting, wondering why Alya is sitting next to her then she realizes the consequences of not fighting for the seat and tries to pair Alya and Marinette, but Alya is more interested in talking about superheroes.

Chloé, a secret superhero fan (influenced by Adrien when he showed her the magical girls in the anime, but since it wasn't appropriate for a daughter of a politician, she repressed that taste, but after being exiled she didn't have to hide it anymore), bonds with Alya over their shared interest.

Chloé feels guilty for taking Marinette's precious friend but decides to keep Alya as her seatmate since Alya is new she doesn't know about all the bad things she did and it's refreshing to have someone who doesn't avoid her or isn't afraid of her 

Since Chloe never put the gum, Mari doesn't fall in love with Adrien, but she still doesn't like Adrien cuz he's Chloe's friend

Chloé realizes too late the consequences of not putting the gum (Adrien from the future told her) Chloé has no idea how to fix it and doesn't want to put the gum in again either, but she makes herself believe that maybe it's for the best, it doesn't make their first meeting so unpleasant and surely in the future there will be more opportunities for Mari to fall in love with Adrien! (Adrien told her many of their romantic events)

Obviously mari never fell in love with Adrien 

MARINETTE

Marinette receives a letter from Chloé before the first day of school, that letter doesn't let her sleep causing her anxiety.

On the first day, Chloé looks at Marinette sitting in her seat, deliberately avoiding her and passing her by without even looking at her (Mari stares at her expecting her to tease her, but is surprised when she ignores her and wonders if the letter was real, shakes her head dismissing it and "it's probably a trap")

Umbrella scene 

Marinette confronts Chloé about the letter, saying what the hell does this mean 

Chloé blushes saying that it's an apology letter, but Mari doesn't believe her at all

Chloé assures her that it's not true and begins to explain 

C: The reason why I've bothered you so much even more than the others is because I was jealous of you 

M: Jealous? But you're Chloe Bourgeois! The girl who has everything! 

C: Not everything-she said with a sad smile- you have friends who love and support you and a wonderful family that believes in you. My mom abandoned me when I was 5 and my dad sees me as nothing more than a political tool 

Marinette stares at her not knowing what to say 

C: I know that's no excuse for everything I put you through and I understand if you don't want to forgive me but you deserve an apology and an explanation. I'm truly sorry Marinette

M: I-I don't know if I can forgive you, I have to think about it 

C: Fair, although could you accept my umbrella? My limo is right in front so I won't get wet 

Marinette cautiously accepts the umbrella and a clap of thunder sounds at that moment making her heart beat faster causing the umbrella to close suddenly, Chloé laughs before she can help it and apologizes 

C: I'm sorry I didn't mean to make fun of you! It was just something very sudden and- 

M: Haha it's okay, I admit that it was kind of funny 

Cloe smiles at her in relief 

C: See you tomorrow Dupain Cheng -she says before getting into the limo- 

M: A-aha s-see you, why am I stuttering?

AUDREY

Audrey comes back way more earlier bc of Chloe's new behavior (maybe André asked her for help, but I honestly don't think Audrey will listen to him, although that might just get her interest a little) 

So Audrey becomes Style Queen earlier and Marinette is sent by the lucky charm to Master Fu (maybe this happens before Tikki gets sick so it would be the first time she meets the guardian) 

Fu doesn't let Marinette choose the holder this time because he doesn't know her as well as in the series, he suddenly remembers when Chloe helped him on the first day of school and tells Marinette that he will choose the new holder of the bee himself 

Chloé is very confused as to why the miraculous was found somewhere else, but she doesn't think much about it in order to help LB and CN quickly 

Once they win, QB tries to LB returns the Miraculous to LB but LB panics saying not to reveal her identity 

QB is very confused and LB explains to her that she has been chosen 

QB asks her confused if she doesn't know her identity and LB tells her no. She also asks if this is permanent or temporary. (I don't know if LB knows that, either way, if it's just temporary the Guardian will contact her to return it) 

QB agrees and leaves and yes it was temporary (I still don't know how she would return it, maybe Fu disguises himself?)

But Pollen is very sad and tries to convince Fu to make her a permanent hero, flattering her for everything 

Pollen: she is the best Queen Bee I have seen, she is very strong, she is very mature for her age, she is very intelligent and cunning, she knows how to do everything (because of her jobs in her past life) (Basically she is Tikki 2.0)

Pollen does this every time a new Akuma appears 

Someone gets Akumatized 

Pollen: Do you know who could help LB and CN to resolve this quickly? Queen Bee~ 

Fu is a little tired, but I find it somewhat endearing and also understands that kwamis want to go out more

Relations Situation

Chloe likes LB

Marinette likes Chloe (she's in denial but Tikki knows better)

Adrien likes Chloe

Adrien and Marinette hate each other

LB only sees QB as a good friend

Sabrina hates Alya (explained in kofi)

Chloe sees Adrien as a friend/sibling

Chloe doesn't know LB or CN identities

If you want to know more all the lore is available in my kofi! (I'll probably post there new AU ideas and art in the future so stay tuned ^^)

Cooking a new AU rn

[lenle-g]

Inspired by this WIP by @astranite <3

“Do I look okay?” John had frozen with his fingers tucked into his hair, a curl wound around his index. He twisted it on repeat, the only flicker of movement that remained, along with the dart of his eyes to Scott, around the room and then to the stars beyond. Would he pass their father's inspection? That’s the question John was really asking. Scott reached out. “May I?” John gave a short, sharp nod, eyes going back to the floor. His uniform hat hung loosely from his other hand, dancing on the borderline of keeping enough tension not to drop it.

Slowly and deliberately, Scott tugged John’s uniform straight, setting his lilac baldric on his shoulder proper, and smoothing out the wrinkles from sky blue fabric. It wasn’t perfect, it certainly wasn’t ironed, but it was better. John seemed more like his usual self, albeit standing shakily on his own two feet, now he didn’t look as much like he was fresh off of a crying jag. Or rather he was more of the John he put out to the world and everyone was allowed to see. And yet, there was a tiny bit more hope held in his frame and the way he actually breathed now. Scott kept his hands pressed to John’s chest a moment longer than necessary; he could feel his brother’s racing heart beating even through the layers of uniform and baldric. It was a blatant excuse to touch, woven together with the practical need to help, and an opportunity to be near taken after being so far away for so long. John rocked forward on his toes to lean into it and they stayed like that, locked together for a what could’ve been an eternity or a millisecond, before Scott slid his hands off the edges of John’s sharp shoulders and John returned to fidgeting with his hair. The movements though were a little frantic; John winced as he caught a snarl at the back as he attempted to fingercomb it into order, too clumsy and frustrated with himself. Scott gently took over when John’s stared at him, eyes an echo of sea green and pleading quietly. He clutched his hat to his chest as he wriggled the fingers of his other hand at his side in a never ending pattern of waves. Scott did his best to comb the back of his brother’s unruly hair to lie in the same direction, to become part of a pattern while the long, soft strands curl where John can’t see them. Waves. The waves of John’s stimming; the wavering lights of the auroras he studies. Maybe Scott was beginning to see why John always insisted it was all connected, the entire universe together. Then his mind returned to the waves of the oceans of Earth and the ripples of their pool overflowing when they all jumped in at the same time. Soon they would be there, John too. Scott swept a clump of strands away from where they brushed John’s neck and caught in his collar to join with the others. “Getting a bit long at the back here, Jay,” he murmured. John’s free hand turned to flickering. “Yeah. Maybe even Virge could… Y’know fix it while I’m on Earth.” “Course! He’d be happy to help. He does love a guinea pig for hairstyling experiments but he will just give you a trim, if that’s what you want.” John’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Better than letting Grandma get a hold of me.” Grandma wielding the kitchen shears was nearly as terrifying as the prospect of her getting ahold of Brains’ plans for a turbo nuclear powered oven. Again. It sure was a way to cook, not even the solidly frozen turkey had survived its maiden flight last Christmas. John and Scott laughed over past family mishaps together. Maybe it was the prospect of joining them that made it so John didn’t change the subject to avoid them. Casual conversation could be painful in ways other people didn’t see until it was too late. Doing John’s hair though reminded Scott of getting his brothers ready as kids, lining them up in their good clothes for their father's rounds of inspection. He’d never not expected military spit and polish. John was usually the one to need least last minute fixing up. Virgil was a dirt magnet for paint, food and grease. Gordon had a talent for getting soaking wet five minutes before they had to be out the door, and Alan had been a literal baby. John would either be found sitting at the ready by the front door, his nose in a book, or he’d be helping Scott out with the others.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Starting a little collection of times when Rose says/does something cute and silly and you can literally see the hearts coming out of Blanche and Dorothy

[goldentigerfestival]

Yuri's dialogue (JP) is so fascinating to study, like... the repetitive use of certain words/phrases that others use sparingly but he uses constantly. the way it feels like his vocabulary is more expansive than what he uses, but he defaults to a "comfort" level of speech. the way it mixes in with his sort of "street talk" words and the sheer level of informality. the way his "street talk" phrasing is contrasted by the tone of his voice (on that note, people I know who also know JP are also very endeared by these aspects of him so I KNOW IT'S NOT JUST ME!!!).

'cause the thing is, he uses phrases that yeah, other people do use, but he uses a handful over and over and over (contrast to other characters' sparing use of repetition). it's actually... really refreshing? it sounds more relatable and less "video game/anime/JRPG/RPG" writing or something, idk. like closer to how a real person would speak.

I do my best in my translations not to make things sound too stiff across the board, but Yuri makes it so easy. it's why I'm so interested in translating all his lines in Vesperia, like... the actual, original tone for him with his original wording because it's smth Eng only players don't get to experience ('cause even if you listen with JP audio, if you don't know the language, ofc you're gonna miss out on context. it's nobody's fault for not knowing, just... they unfortunately miss out). the thing is, there are a lot of times when the lines in and of themselves are not contextually incorrect in the English ver (usually the situation for smaller scenes, because they altered the text outright for more important stuff which was the stuff that originally set me off, but there were also plenty of cases of just vocal tone shifting with the correct context that still gave off the wrong impression), but Yuri's tone is shifted away from the original in Eng even though it's completely and perfectly translatable.

I am by no means about to translate the entire game because let's face it, I really don't care that much for Vesperia on the whole. I'm kinda stuck with it because Yuri's there lo and behold I actually am WAY more engaged in his stories in Rays, Link and Asteria because it's an amazing character put into circumstances where he actually gets to shine and feels more alive, which Vesperia did not provide nearly as well with its very disjointed story. also, Tales gachas have banger stories that are arguably better than the mainline games, and they regularly make Yuri a very central character to the gachas. Crestoria was also about to do it until they pulled the plug on that game and I'm pretty confident something interesting has been lost to the world. also I just generally don't have the energy or motivation to do that, so... I'll only be focusing on Yuri's lines, especially because his stuff is where the bulk of the messing around was. he's just insanely fun to translate for and I love burying myself head first into his speech.

will I actually finish this project? dunno. will I get around to posting it? whatever I get done (so all of it if I complete it), and if I decide to call it quits then I'll post what I have at the time I decide that. will it take a long time? probably, but I can always mention stuff along the way...

[nomairuins]

had 2 take a break 2 think abt a different one of my princesses. back 2 it

[seiwas]

just found out that my bf and i alr met before what i thought was our first interaction?? and he remembers it too but never thought to let me know in the almost 6 years we've been together?!?! apparently he also developed feelings months before he confessed but was in denial abt it...

[mistergoddess]

SENSEIS LOVE HIM local white boy has an inexplicable charm over every martial arts instructor he's ever had

[seiwas]

omg i reached the tag limit i’m so sorry op ! but i must !! share !! just how much this fic !!! made me Feel Things !!!!!!

(cont from tag) <- so that line is so witty i snorted while reading it 😭 & this one too: “If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.”

there are so many close calls too!! with how everyone’s dropping hints and implying everything 🤧 they’re really so idiots in love 😭 & atsumu is so whipped and he knows it but isn’t saying it and it’s driving me insane !!!

and !!!! the many passes atsumu gives !! bc he thinks thats what he’s supposed to do !!! the right thing to do !!! give reader space 🤧 but it rlly just prolongs everything 😭 u kept the tension and held it so well 😭😭

“he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.” <- i love this line too 😭😭

how atsumu takes care of them when they’re drunk 🤧 & he’s so loverboy w how he’s acting but he still needs aran to lay it down 😭😭 & when reader touches his face !! it’s so tender !! i love that moment 🥺

“The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.” <- i rlly squealed out loud when i read this 😭

the dancing in the kitchen!! their sticking their tongues out!! their entire dynamic!! i love it so much!! there’s so much comfort and knowing and loving in it 🥺 and they r so goofy and silly w each other it’s so cute 🥺

the tension in the bathroom scene omg i felt siCK 😭 i love how u delved into atsumu’s thought process 😭 the panic !! the fear !!

“(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible? Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)” <- this bit omfg 😭😭 i ached!!! tbh everything u put in the parentheses were just 👌🏼😖 had to stop myself from reading to gather myself omg 😭

“Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.” <- this and the parallel to one at the end !!! i love it so much 😭

and this “because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.” is so true 😭

and this: “There’s no point being here without you.” my face rlly went 🥺

& the way my heart !!! rlly squeezed !! when reader opened the door to find atsumu there 🥺 and all they did was go on like they weren’t fighting bc the care is still there !!!! 😭 and i’m just aaaaaah

i’m sorry i rlly said so much ant this but i love it so much !!! and u wrote it so so so well op 🥺 i love the way you write !! and tell a story !! and i love the dialogues u come up with and the little details that u slip in that make everything so much richer !!! felt 1000x deeper !! & u’re so talented op!! for writing smth like this 😭 definitely one of my fave atsumu fics to date 😭 thank u so much for writing this aaaaaaahhh!!!

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count | 12.6k (12,607) genre | fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

➞ warnings | alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! ➞ warnings | ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

 “I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

“Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. “What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

© fushisagi, 2023. do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 03:12 A.M 」

tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋

a part of gojo's love entries

“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”

it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.

yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.

satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”

his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.

“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”

“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”

“ice cream mochi!!”

“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”

“but...”

“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”

“no! want it— now!”

satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.

“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”

“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”

“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and completed the deed splendidly!”

“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”

he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”

“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”

he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”

you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—

“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.

“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”

“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.

and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.

he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.

each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.

you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.

“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.

and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.

“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”

[i-like-writing-stuff]

the other five [ five hargreeves x reader ]

request: Hello! This is my first time desperately requesting a fic because the new season is SO bad 😭 Can you write a fic where the reader finds out about everything that happened between Five & Lila and then she gets taken away by one of the Fives at the deli and promising her that he’ll treat her better than OG Five (You can also add a part where OG Five finds out about this and lives to regret it)

a/n: AU where everything in that trash season was the same, except when five made the first jump in s1 he made it in his 32 yr old body bc i will not have y/n pull a zach justice (lmao)

even if lila did 😭😭

anyways basically everyone is the same age

i like to think of the five that comforts y/n as the five that explained everything to five in the last episode because that one literally felt like the five we were supposed to get, the five that was there all the first three seasons

sorry i cant stop trashing this season you guys 😭 i’m just so disappointed

summary: after breaking up with five, you make up with… well, five

part two

“Leave me alone, Five!” You yelled in despair, pushing the man before you away, “Actually, first take me back home, you psycho! I have nothing to say to you!”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out!” Five tried to reason with you, as if anything he would say could make your heart glue itself back.

You were standing in the subway station after Five had blinked himself and you away from the family- or what was left of it, watching him at loss of words. You didn’t recognize the man before your eyes, as much as you tried. You didn’t even have time to gather all your thoughts since there was yet another impending apocalypse on its way, so your mind was completely all over the place.

Five Hargreeves was not the same Five Hargreeves you fell in love with all those years ago. He was not the same man who had stolen your heart and made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world. He wasn’t your partner anymore, he wasn’t your lover. Your boyfriend wasn’t there. You looked at this person and there was a stranger, acting as if he was the same who had hugged you, held your hand, kissed you all those many times. You were questioning everything about him now.

“Take me back!” You yelled again, ignoring his same pleas, curling your hand in a fist, “I’m this fucking close to making you ash!”

As your pure anger got the best of you, you were ready to let your powers take over for a second. Obviously you weren’t actually going to hurt him, no matter how much you wanted him to feel your pain, at least physically.

You met him six years ago, during the first time you tried to stop the apocalypse. You were also one of the extraordinary kids, but luckily enough, Reginald Hargreeves didn’t manage to adopt you- more so, purchase you. You only met Five not long after he managed to time travel back to his family in 2019 after spending all those decades by himself. Before you knew it, you were dragged into the Hargreeves family and your relationship soon after developed.

Your six year relationship that was so merry a few hours ago. Now it was crumbled, trashed.

What hurt was that it was six years only to you. Five managed to block himself seven years away from you, only in the presence of Lila.

“This is so fucking stupid,” You scoffed, fighting back the tears in your eyes, “It’s fucking over! Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

“I want you to listen!” Five didn’t give up on arguing, “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“You didn’t want to see me again!” You screamed, wailing your hands in the air, “Fucking save it- It’s over! I don’t want to ever see you again if we survive this apocalypse! You ruined our relationship, you ruined your brother’s marriage, family! For fucking Lila!”

You hated him absolutely. The mere thought of his infidelity, of the nerve to act as if he still loved you, it was all despicable.

You grew to love all of your boyfriend’s siblings, and also your nieces and nephews, even if you and Five were not yet married. You planned to be a part of the family officially, but still wanted to focus on your careers, you wanted to adjust yourself to your old life, back to your origins.

“Y/N, please!” He tried to step, towards you, but you started stepping away.

Thoughtlessly, because of all your anger, you just walked towards the first train approaching you, fully intending to be away from him at whatever cost.

“If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll fucking find my own way!” You hopped onto the train, watching as he tried to catch up with you.

But he was too late.

In hindsight, maybe it was not the smartest idea, but you were just so devastated nothing made sense to you anymore. You spent the past six years thinking that you are set for the rest of your life, now that the world wasn’t ending anymore. You reconnected with your family, you built a career for yourself and were living happily with Five, you had literally just finished settling yourself in the new house you bought together. You couldn’t understand how he could do this to you.

You couldn’t understand how Lila could betray your friendship either, especially Diego and their kids.

You tried to make it make sense, be reasonable- it was only a few hours to you, but they were lost in this subway system for seven years.

But then again, Five was lost in the future 45 years by himself and he didn’t give up on trying to return to his family once.

Now he did, he gave up on trying to return to you.

That’s definitely another aspect that stung.

“Fucking piece of shit,” You mumbled, as the train approached its first station, “How do I fucking get out of here?”

You stumbled out of the sub, taking in your surroundings. It was yet another crumbled down station, but if you were to be at least a tiny bit fair, it was maybe a bit better kept. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out where to go from now on. Your fire-based superpowers were totally useless in this situation, so you hated to admit that you were in a bit of a pickle.

You rolled your eyes, as Five rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, watching you with widened eyes.

“You again?” You sighed angrily, “Take me back or get out of my sight, Five.”

Five raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets curiously. He didn’t say a word yet, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He slowly stepped towards you, not taking his eyes off you once. For a split second, you stopped as well, sending that something was up.

You took in his features, trying to make sense of what was going on, realizing that he didn’t have a coat on him. He was wearing the exact three piece suit an black tie, he was wearing the same silver watch on his left hand, but he didn’t have his coat on.

“Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of you, “I never thought I’d see you again, more so here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You calmly asked, over-analyzing the man before you.

His smile didn’t drop. It was a genuine one, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Things between you and Five were okay a few hours ago, but he hadn’t watched you with this look since you first met. His eyes were sincere, taking in every single feature of yours, traveling all over your body.

“I take it your Five danced the devil’s tango with Lila,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to gently brush away your tears.

When did you even start crying?

Your mind was scrambled all over the place, but at that exact moment you couldn’t say another word. You just melted into his touch, feeling warmth. It really hadn’t been that long since Five touched you, but this touch felt different. His hand rested on your cheek, as his thumb caressed you lightly. His touch was so intoxicatingly sweet, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m so sorry I’m a literal shitface in some other timelines,” He lightly shook his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on?” You asked once again, calmer this time.

For whatever reason, you relaxed in an instant. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his gentle touch or simply his presence. Ironic, since just ten minutes ago you were ready to set him on fire.

“Come with me, my love,” Five said, grabbing your hand in his, “I’ll explain everything.”

You didn’t fight his touch, locking your fingers with his. None of you said a word, as you watched you hands fit so perfectly in one another. How could your relationship be over when you were so good together?

You followed Five through the subway station, rounding the same corner he appeared from. You watched as he turned his head to give you a reassuring smile, lightly squeezing your hand in comfort.

After a few more steps and going down a couple of stairs, you widened your eyes seeing a literal deli tucked away in this godforsaken out of order subway system. The headlights above the front entrance were lit up, writing Max’s Delicatessen. You saw inside a huddle of people as you entered, gathering everyone’s attention.

When they all turned to look at you, you literally couldn’t tell whether you or the huddle of people was more shocked.

They were all Fives.

There was music playing inside, as the deli was full of different versions of your boyfriend, whether they were customers sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or having a meal, reading the newspaper or having a chat. There were also other Fives working around, waiting tables or cooking in the back.

Nonetheless, they all stopped to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N is here, carry on, you guys,” The Five that was holding your hand waved the others off with his free hand, “She needs a moment, stop being creeps.”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare,” You said, looking around the deli, as Five guided you towards an empty booth.

You sat down as the other picked up again whatever they were doing, still watching you with the corner of their eyes. Five took a seat in front of you, still holding onto your hand on top of the table, using his other hand to rub small circles on your skin.

“I am not the Five that dragged you here, in case you didn’t tell yet,” Five managed to say, “But I’m pretty sure that you did, since I know you’re smarter than he gives you credit for.”

“He did mention that this subway system is the knot to multiple timelines,” You sighed, as Waiter Five set down two cups of steaming coffee on the table.

You watched him curiously, as he looked yet again exactly like Five, wearing just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie, pantsuit pants and a server apron around the waist. He smiled at you warmly, setting down two small packs of sugar and a creamer.

“I’m sorry, my love, we don’t have any Irish Capuccinos around here, since you’re the first Y/N to set foot in here,” He apologetically smiled, “I can only get you a shot of whiskey, if you’d like.”

Of course they all knew your favorite coffee.

“Make it a bottle,” You said, cracking a smile for the first time, causing him to chuckle, before walking away to attend to your order.

“I can’t begin to explain how much I missed your smile, darling,” The Five before you said, as you turned back to him, “The Handler got to the Y/N in my timeline,” He added, as sadness took over his eyes, “I missed you so much.”

“I can’t understand how you’re the same Five that fell in love with Lila,” You said, before quickly adding, “I mean- technically, you’re not, but still.”

“Everyone around here is a different version of me, from a different timeline,” He said, “I’m one of the many that didn’t go down that road.”

“Thank you, I guess,” You laughed, making him smile again.

What a sweet smile it was.

“When I lost you, I was a total wreck,” He confessed, as you couldn’t help but place your other hand on top of his, “I love you so much, Y/N, I could never hurt you like that no matter what. This is all such a fucked up turn of events, but when I saw you coming out of that train, my mind froze.”

“I love you too, Five,” You said, “But I need to wrap my head around what is going on- Everything is insane, I mean I’m right now in the middle of yet another apocalypse, I just found out that you love Lila and there’s just so fucking many of you.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Five nodded, “I wouldn’t dare to ask you accept everything so fast, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Can you just… hold me?” You asked, watching as he didn’t waste another second and got up to slide ne t yo you in the booth.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, he used his other one to caress your hair. You nuzzled your face into his shirt, taking in his scent, as you felt a wave of certitude wash over you. Five held you tightly into his arms, embracing you after years of your absence. He was grateful to have you in his arms once again.

And he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“I’ll always hold you, my love,” Five muttered, peppering small kisses in your hair.

The Five from your timeline watched from behind the window as you took comfort in his arms, but not exactly his arms.

This was only the beginning of his lifelong regret.

[lcvemiyuki]

“when they get jealous” | hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: haikyuu boys x reader, when they get jealous over someone else

warnings: disgustingly cute, kenma x reader + tsukishima x reader are established relationships, fem!reader, osamu x reader (y/n is perceived as shorter than osamu)

characters: kenma, tsukishima, osamu

a/n: more! bc these also have been stuck in my head... (not proofread sorry!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Kozume Kenma

'he would get distracted to the point of jeopardizing a game'

It was a weekend afternoon, and Kenma had carved out some precious time to play solos in the gaming room. His specialty was first-person shooter games, and he stayed absolutely silent to focus; a pin drop could be heard from how quiet it was. Only the sounds of his game controller clicking resonated softly in the soundproof room.

You two shared the room, with back-to-back monitors and a personalized setup on each side. Occasionally, you would enter and play a game or two, leaving when you knew he had a stream scheduled.

Today was one of those quiet days, with Kenma fully immersed in his game. His noise-canceling headphones ensured nothing but the game’s audio reached his ears.

You entered the room, aware of his headphones, and left rabbit-cut apple slices next to his keyboard. The colors from his monitor illuminated the slices, casting a soft glow on them as his slender fingers worked like a well-oiled machine.

As you moved, your figure momentarily blocked his sight, and he glimpsed you holding a phone to your ear, a smile plastered on your face as you talked. Kenma's eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before his monitor demanded his attention again. Usually, you would make some sort of light contact to remind him you were there, a gentle touch or a pat on the shoulder.

But this time, you didn’t.

Instead, you turned to your side and plopped down on the plush chair, fully engrossed in your conversation. Kenma wasn't overly nosy, but he couldn’t help but peek out from the side of his monitor to observe you.

‘Who has your attention?’ he wondered.

Knowing he couldn't keep glancing your way without compromising his game, Kenma adjusted his headphones so that only one side covered his ear, leaving the other exposed to the outside world.

Kenma's focus split in half; he tried to concentrate on his game, yet every time he heard your wholehearted laugh, his eyes darted to you instantly. Your joy was infectious, and it pulled at his curiosity with an unfamiliar force.

“Tomorrow? Yeah, that sounds great!” Your voice rang out, clear and cheerful. Kenma's brows furrowed as he strained to make out more of your conversation. His concentration slowly dissipated, the multiple noises becoming a chaotic blend in his mind.

“I can’t wait to see you!” Your exclamation, followed by another giggle, broke his focus entirely. He turned his head fully for just two seconds, enough time for his character on screen to be targeted and shot.

The screen flashed red with ‘GAME OVER’ in bold letters.

Kenma's eyes did a double take as the realization hit—he had gotten distracted a bit too long.

He never lost a game—ever.

He yanked the headphones off, letting them hang around his neck as he leaned back in his chair. A long sigh heaved out, his worn-out hands finding their way behind his head as his legs spread apart for a more comfortable position.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, bro. Tell Mom I can’t wait to see you guys!” Now free from his game’s immersive audio, Kenma heard you loud and clear. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling a twinge of annoyance at himself for getting so distracted.

That really cost him a game—yet he couldn't help but feel his heart rate slow down after realizing you were just talking to your brother.

Lost in his thoughts, Kenma didn’t hear you approach until he felt the soft, slightly wet touch of your lips pecking his. His eyes slowly fluttered open to find you staring down at him with a confused look.

“You lost, Kozu?” Your eyes now drifted to his monitor.

He could only softly scoff at himself, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his tone. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His lips pursed together, noting the twinge of sweetness they tasted.

He would never tell you the real reason, though.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Kei Tsukishima

'his smile looks indifferent, yet his eyes shot daggers'

The sound of someone’s cough echoed through the museum as you and Tsukishima passed through another grand exhibit. The exhibits grew slightly crowded at times, prompting you to lightly grasp the edge of his coat, careful not to fully grab him. His strides were slightly faster than yours granted his slight eagerness. Tsukishima turned his head, peering down at your hand clutching his clothes.

“Is this your way of trying to keep up?” His light eyebrows raised slightly in amusement before he reached back, taking hold of your hand to guide you instead.

“Excuse me!” a slightly loud voice echoed in the room, causing you to close your mouth before you could respond. You turned to face the source of the shout, only to find a young man staring right at you.

Tsukishima halted with you, turning his head around with a hint of annoyance at whoever was shouting.

“Do people not know when to lower their voices?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As he was about to finish his sentence, he noticed the man making his way toward you specifically. Tsukishima didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes were solely focused on you.

Turning his attention to you, Tsukishima also noticed how your squinting eyes suddenly morphed into one of pure surprise.

“Y/N? Is that really you!?” the man exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

As the man launched into an animated recount of his recent adventures, Tsukishima stood by, feeling a pang of irritation.

Soon enough, a few others caught up to your classmate. Tsukishima couldn't miss the way it took them a few seconds to avert their eyes or the eager way they held out their hands to shake yours.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, ‘How shameless.’

“This is my—” you began to introduce Tsukki, but he beat you to it, turning fully to face the group. “I’m the boyfriend.” His smile was anything but genuine.

His tone might have been friendly, but you could tell Tsukki was irritated.

Quickly realizing he might be upset about the abrupt interruption of your date, you hastily said your goodbyes to your old high school friend.

“Aw, c’mon Y/N, how about a reunion selfie before we let you go?” your old classmate nudged, pointing at the phone he was holding.

You awkwardly laughed, trying to think of a way to politely decline. But before you could say no, you felt a gentle but firm pressure on the small of your back, guiding you forward. You turned to see Tsukishima's long fingers splayed out against your back, his touch insistent. The action caused you to straighten up in response, feeling the solid reassurance of his hand.

You quickly took the selfie with your old classmate, offering a polite smile for the camera. Before you could say another brief goodbye, you noticed the three guys in the back all staring in your direction, only to quickly avert their gaze to some random object in the building.

Curious about what had caught their attention, you turned your head to follow their line of sight. Your heart began to race as you saw the reason for their sudden shift in focus.

Tsukishima, now several meters away, was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes were locked onto the guy next to you. His usual could-care-less demeanor was replaced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Tsukishima's glare was menacing as if silently placing a bounty on his head. His hands were comfortably placed in his pockets; his black glasses failed to mask the daggers he shot their way.

There was no mistaking it—he was jealous, and not just mildly so.

You quickly excused yourself, murmuring a final goodbye to your old classmate. You made your way over to Tsukishima, your steps quickening with each passing second.

As you reached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently placing a hand on his arm. His eyes flicked to yours, then quickly shifted away, focusing on anything but you.

“Tsukki,” you said softly, “Sorry that took so long.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, his tone begrudgingly agreeing.

“Were their stares bothering you?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“They were just...annoying,” he said, his voice clipped. “Like, read the room.”

A mischievous smirk played on your face as you interlocked your hand with his. “Is that why you were death-staring them like they were your sworn enemies?”

“Obviously. Anyone would with how noisy they were,” he replied, trying to sound indifferent.

He would never admit to it, but you could read him all too well.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Miya Osamu

'wouldn't care if a purchase or two gets put on the line'

One day, Atsumu, his doting twin brother, waltzes into the semi-busy shop with open arms.

“Take a whiff, boys—the infamous Miya blood mixes with success,” he says smugly.

Osamu doesn't even welcome them once he sees who it is—he simply deadpans and shoves the curtains to go in the back.

With a bright smile that reaches your eyes, you quickly greet the customers. The two unfamiliar gentlemen behind Atsumu had a muscular and tall build—likely hungry athletes in need of rewarding food.

‘Time to sell the whole shop,’ you think with determination.

Although you weren’t an official employee at Onigiri Miya, you wanted to help Osamu as much as you could. That included selling his delicious food to hungry customers.

You devise a quick game plan and target the first tall guy, hastily approaching him. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he examines the menu, trying to decide what to eat.

“Hi there! If you’re looking for something delicious, you can’t go wrong with our classic tuna mayo onigiri,” you suggest cheerfully, your enthusiasm catching his attention.

The tall guy’s face lights up at your recommendation. “That sounds perfect, thanks!” he says, his serious expression softening.

Just as you’re about to show him another flavor, Osamu suddenly walks directly between you and the customer, almost bumping into you. “You should try the natto,” he says, grabbing a natto onigiri from the display, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

The customer looks a bit taken aback, clearly put off by the sudden change. “Uh, I’m not sure about natto…” he says hesitantly.

You frown slightly, trying to salvage the situation. “Well, we have plenty of other options too—how about the umeboshi?” you suggest, stepping around Osamu to point at another onigiri.

Osamu, however, doesn’t move, effectively blocking your view. “Natto’s a specialty here. You should give it a shot,” he insists, practically shoving the onigiri into the customer’s hand, his eyes darting briefly to you and then back to the customer.

The customer looks uncomfortable, but Atsumu, ever the opportunist, steps in with a grin. “Look at ya, ‘Samu. Can’t stand to see Y/N sellin’ your onigiri to my pal, huh?” he teases, clearly enjoying the situation.

Osamu’s scowl deepens as he grabs an onigiri from the counter. “Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters before stuffing the onigiri into his brother’s mouth, effectively muffling his cackle.

Atsumu’s eyes widen in surprise, slightly coughing from practically choking on a rice ball.

Trying to pretend the twins weren’t going at it, mouthing silent threats to each other on each side of you two, you try to make a pitch once again.

“I hope you try out all, but it’s up to you!” you quickly put all three into the man’s hands and in doing so, your hand encloses them and gives it a slight pat.

The shuffling stops as you feel two holes being burned into the back of your head.

You could hear a soft chuckle as Osamu's large hands suddenly and slightly encircled your neck from behind. His weight leaned lightly against you as he crouched down a bit to join the conversation.

"Y/N's putting in quite the effort to sell you these, man. I'd say take them and enjoy," he remarked, his face close enough to yours that you could almost feel his breath against your ear.

With a subtle maneuver, you sidestep out of his grasp and guide the customer towards the register; the mess the very owner put you through just to sell these damn onigiris. You mentally roll your eyes as Atsumu continues to tease Osamu in the background.

As soon as the trio of athletes bid the shop goodbye, the door chiming softly behind them, your attention soon fell on Osamu.

You could feel a slight tension in the atmosphere, the remnants of the earlier exchange still hanging in the air. Osamu stood behind the counter, his back turned to you as he methodically rearranged the onigiri displays. His movements were precise, almost mechanical as if he were trying to distract himself from the task at hand.

"Why the face, Y/N?" Osamu feigned confusion as he went around the stalls to continue his organizing.

You stood by the register with your arms crossed, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. "Oh, really," you began, "I mean, I get Atsumu—you guys always go at it—but that guy was just like any other customer, 'Samu."

Osamu paused in his task, his expression shifting into a thoughtful gaze as if pondering something. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter before he finally met your gaze. "Yeah, but there's always something more to it," he said cryptically, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You tilted your head, intrigued by his response. "More to what?"

He chuckled softly, a glint of something indescribable in his eyes. "More to everything," he replied enigmatically, leaving you with a curious smile as he continued to work around the shop. His words lingered in the air.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[uwooyoungs]

//

[satoruxx]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: bestfriend!satoru has returned, fluff, pining, slightly angsty bc of pining, simp satoru hehe, oblivious reader is back again, satoru loves you !! rheya's note: continuation to this drabble bc bestfriend!satoru is everything to me !!

bestfriend!satoru who insists that you have him on speed dial because "he's the most important person in your life" but really it just satisfies him to know that he's the first one you'd call if you needed anything.

bestfriend!satoru who started off being a bit of an ass when you first met. not because he was trying to be but because he's got an ego and doesn't know how to control it, until you call him out for his shit and it sends his heartbeat all out of wack.

bestfriend!satoru who doesn't trust anyone else around you. it's not out of concern or anything, oh no. but in his expert opinion only him and the people he trusts (like suguru, shoko, or nanami) should ever get within six feet of you.

bestfriend!satoru who waits outside every class for you, leaning against the wall with a bag of your favorite snacks in his hand, glasses perched low on his nose. the smile that crawls onto his face as you walk out of the classroom and join him is practically blinding.

bestfriend!satoru who grows older thinking of nothing but you. the person most important to him, the person he would move galaxies for. and no, it's not romantic or anything. he's just your best friend.

bestfriend!satoru who realizes that he's not the only one in the world who knows that you're attractive, and has to clench his fists with a scowl as he sees other men noticing you. then he has to stop and check himself because, why on earth is he mad about it?

bestfriend!satoru who starts openly staring at you because he can't even control it anymore, eyes soft and overflowing affection as he watches you indulge in silly mundane tasks. and when you turn and catch him looking all he can do is give you a dreamy little smile. he's got no excuses but he's gonna play it off like it's something you shouldn't worry about anyway.

bestfriend!satoru who makes you his number one priority, who doesn't care about anyone else when you're in front of him. and even if you aren't around, he can't bring himself to look at anyone else. if someone comes up to him on the street, mumbling something about how he's their type and they'd like his contact info, all he does is give them a breezy wave, saying "sorry. i got someone waiting for me."

bestfriend!satoru who, when you're trying to explain something and someone speaks over you, gives you a resolute "no i'm listening." and doesn't take his eyes away from you until you've said all that you needed to. don't ever think that nobody is listening to you because you always have his attention.

bestfriend!satoru who grits his teeth as you tell him about another unsuccessful date with a man who didn't even know how to treat you right. and how could they, when they don't even know how you like your coffee or what side of the bed you prefer to sleep on? they don't know what your favorite movie snack is or about your obsession with plants or your most precious pair of fluffy socks. not the way he does.

bestfriend!satoru who has to hold himself back during your ranting, who has to keep himself from just letting go and spilling that you weren't going to find someone who loved you more than he did. to stop himself from leaning down and kissing you so hard it takes your breath away, because he's wanted to do it since he was sixteen. he was just too stupid to understand it back then.

bestfriend!satoru who chooses to wait instead, knowing that he'll be stuck with these feelings for the rest of his life, so he'd rather wait for you. because he'd hate himself if he made you uncomfortable, and if he lost the relationship he had with you now over his silly little heart. no instead, he'll keep proving himself, staying by your side and showing you even just of fraction of the devotion he knows he has for you, if it means that you'll be by his side. and hoping that one day, maybe, you'd tell him you feel the same.

[xiaoriae]

TERMS OF ENDEARMENT.

pairing. neuvillette & wriothesley x gn!reader (separate) ★ genre. established relationship au & fluff. ★ wc. 1.2k

synopsis. calling out the fontaine men by their pet names!

contents. pet names (reader's: dear, darling, etc.), lovestruck neuvillette :( , may contain an inaccurate description of the melusine's tail bcs i'm dumb, a really minimal spoiler from the 4.0 archon quest (regarding hydro dragon and rain) in neuvillette's, mention of sedene (the melusine outside neuvie's office), neuvillette just wants his kith >:( , wriothesley might be ooc bcs we all love him despite not knowing him yet, mentions of sigewinne in wrio's, made-up [1] fontaine law and background setting, and an assumption of sigewinne is the one who often treats wrio's injuries(?).

a/n. first, idk who to pull for; either neuvi or wrio bcs i alr have hydro and cryo dps :cries: but srsly, the v4.1 trailer has me on my knees for these two men (in a respectful manner of course).

support banner and animated line dividers by @/cafekitsune on tumblr.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

neuvillete would never admit it out loud.

how you left him in awe every time he heard you calling out for his attention—monsieur neuvillette in a formal setting, but instead referring him as neuvie when in private.

something about it had always made neuvillette's chest just a little bit tightened at the way the name rolled off your tongue oh-so-eloquently, and he often found himself staring at your lips a second longer than what everyone would consider as appropriate.

oh, how he would love to peck your lips, feeling them against his, even for a brief moment.

it was an embarrassing thought sitting at the little corner of his mind. he was ashamed at how easily you had him on your mercy.

"neuvie," your voice came out a tad bit softer after seeing him spacing out—in which was totally not a norm to see him staring far ahead and at you, though not until recently.

"are you alright, love?"

he swore he felt his heart dropped. it was a double kill to him, who recently figured out that he loved you more than he initially thought he would. how endearing of you to call him with such names, it was cute. a perfect adjective to describe you.

"nothing, dear," his voice resonated through the room, and you realised how he looked at the perfect weather illuminating his office through the window.

you looked at him back, skeptical as to why the corner of his mouth seemed to form a fine curve, but you shrugged the feeling as soon as it came. maybe he was happy, considering the sunny and chilly weather outside.

and his feeling mattered to you the most.

"monsieur neuvillette," you called him out again.

this time, neuvillette could barely hide the frown that was about to form on his face. why did you call him that? why the sudden change of attitude? he was confused. especially when he felt the soft touches on his hair.

you were patting his head, occasionally fixing his hair as neuvillette slightly leaned in to feel the warmth only you could exude.

"it is about time for today's trial, chief justice. lady furina must have been waiting for you at the opera house," you gently reminded him, feeling the way his shoulders tensed.

oh—how stupid of him, he thought. he finally understood why you called him by his title, there was sedene all along at the door.

the melusine looked at both of you in amusement, he could tell by the way her tail was wagging.

"another minute, dear?" his voice was low enough, seemingly to avoid the melusine's attention as he sighed.

you beamed a small smile at him, making neuvillette felt ten times heavier to let go of you and go to the court. "no, neuvie," you rubbed soft circles at the back of his hand, and neuvillette fought the urge to intertwine his finger with yours.

he fought the urge to kiss you on your lips—his name sounded so precious coming out from you. it actually pained his heart at how irreplaceable you were in his life. 

"after the court session is over, we can cuddle all we want, yeah?" you pecked his cheek, and neuvillette thought he could die happily if this was the treatment he would get—a reward worth billions of mora if this was what you gave him from cherishing and loving you.

and he would love to hear and love you forever.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

inside the fortress of meropide, the only person that could make wriothesley's burdens felt lighter was you, and only you. to see that you enjoyed your time being here—although the fortress was everything except fun and colours—and sometimes helped sigewinne with her infirmary stuff, he felt a part of him was proud at how kind and brave you were. 

wriothesley loved looking at you teasing and babying sigewinne. it was another trait that made him clicked with you so well—despite his profession and the countless dangers he might have brought along.

he remembered the first time you insisted to tag along with him to the infamous underwater prison. no one could enter and exit the fortress whenever they wanted, and you managed to prove him wrong. now that your reputation was well-known within the area, it seemed that the law on permitting outsiders to get into the fortress with thorough screening process didn't really seem to be applicable to you.

every garde recognised you. every staff and people and melusine alike—all had acknowledged you in their work space.

so when you introduced yourself as wriothesley's other half, it was understandable that your name made it in the headlines and became the monthly issue from the steambird.

'after all, the duke doesn't really seem to be the lover type, isn't he?'

"hi, handsome," you waved at wriothesley, who seemed to just finish with an interrogation session with one of the criminals. a stack of papers was in his grip.

his eyes widened at the way you called him with that word which often failed to not make his heart thumped against his chest.

"good evening, darling," he scoffed when he felt the way his voice almost cracked. the random terms of endearment you threw at him had always made his actions cut short and his words to be stuck in his throat. "what are you doing here? did i not say to go back home at 5? it is late."

"mhm," you hummed.

pointing at the clipboard in your right hand which wriothesley had realised was there all along, you explained yourself. "was running an errand for sigewinne. the poor nurse had some troubles so i lent a hand or two," you said while tapping wriothesley's shoulder thrice, feeling proud of yourself for contributing a cent around the fortress.

you then involuntarily fixed his tie, still giving him the proud smile you often wore.

wriothesley sent you a soft smile at that, contradicting the multitude of scars littered across his body.

of course his favourite person was the one who was kind enough to help sigewinne—it was as if you silently repaid sigewinne's past deeds of treating his injuries. how could anyone would not love you for that, he thought.

your heart swelled at the sight. your partner was quite soft at heart when he smiled, despite the roughness he portrayed.

you were staring at his face with those sparkles he never knew could exist in one's eyes. it was too much, but wriothesley thought he would just mentally appreciate the pure loving look you gave him.

"this will do. now my man looks dashing as always."

it took him exactly three seconds to understand what you meant. you were fixing his appearance, and he felt his face became a little bit warmer. my man, he unconsciously repeated the words in his mind.

if sigewinne saw the two of you being so lovey dovey in public—well, maybe both of you were done for.

"the gesture is very much appreciated, darling," he chuckled.

"you are very welcome, sir," you replied, mimicking the small chuckles he sent towards you.

"since both of us have already worked overtime, let us grab a bite?" you swung your arm around his, interlocking with the arm that often held you with such gentleness.

"alright," wriothesley gave in to your suggestion, long forgotten where he should be heading before crossing his path with you. "let us go on a date."

all rights reserved © xiaoriae 2023 strictly on tumblr only. any form of wrongdoings under the copyright law is strictly prohibited.

[eccentricallygothic]

| Older |

Pairing: Boyfriend's Dad!John Price | Son's Girlfriend!You.

Description: Guys your age just aren’t the same.

Warning(s): Infidelity, age gap, Cap being a badass, teasing, thumb sucking, stuffie riding, Daddy kink, Cap smokes, allusions to biting, little boob play, lowkey intimidation kink bc it's me, power imbalance-ish. MDNI. 

Note: I, infact, am not sorry. I guess the son and Reader are in college/uni? Ps, Barry Sloane is becoming an obsession. HELP!  

MASTERLIST

. . . 

It wasn't supposed to happen and you didn't mean for it to.

Not at first, anyways. 

But your boyfriend's good natured, authoritative, brave and yet mysterious dad was always so calm and cool and laid-back with a cigarette dangling between his lips and his thick maney arms and tattoos that often hid under his shirts. He always knew what to say and what to do. Nothing was a big deal to him and he always had your boyfriend's back in the most warm and wholesome way. He was a man who understood how to take care of things and he knew everything and you were convinced there was not a problem he didn't know his way around.

At first it was curious glances on your part, then it was friendly and innocent grazes on his. It moved onto lasting looks and then longing touches. The two of you never said a word, though. No. There was no address, no discussion. Just a chilly day when you had been a little cold and your boyfriend hadn't been home. 

Class had been a little too upsetting and your boyish partner had been too caught up in his own worries. You had been in need of comfort and some big love and John had been your knight in shining armor. He had come around looking for his son in that truck of his, sensed your distress, sat beside you and reassured you like no one had ever before. His gentle voice and careful caressing was something you'd never forget. However, your other memories of that day were foggy, you were not sure whether it was out of how small your mind had become or due to the burning guilt of what it had started. But one thing had led to another and one moment you were nuzzling into his warm arms, then your soft cheek was rubbing against his beard, next your noses were touching and then your lips were on each other’s, his mustache tickling your skin as he had went about exploring you with his scarred manly hands. So on and so forth, it hadn't stopped from that day on.

Time was against the two of you and every minute was valuable. 

But that didn't stop the Captain from being an absolute tease who often brought tears to your eyes. 

Like he was doing right now. 

“Daddy, please…” You whined as you rocked yourself harder on the soft toy, your baby blue dress bunching on your thighs that were covered in his bite marks -thank God your boyfriend was out of town on a school errand- as your hair fell about your face. “Hnng…” Your hips ached a little from the strain you were putting on them but the heat scorching your loins was way too compulsive for you to even think about stopping. 

John's heavy form was relaxed against the headboard as he lazily took another drag of his cigarette, cool eyes watching you almost casually. “What is it, babygirl?” You whined at the name he used and how the baritone of his voice drilled into your soul as he did so, causing for more slick gush out of you as a result. “Hm?” Your pussy was so puffy and needy. 

“Need you, Daddy, please!” You cried out your plea, feeling yourself on the verge of tears. 

“You do?” You vigorously nodded to his raised eyebrow. John snorted before tilting his head to one side and shrugging. “I don't know, baby” you pouted at his words, gulping a thick bile down your parched throat. Your lips were so dry. “Mr. Octs looks quite cozy tucked in between your pretty little thighs” it didn't matter what you looked like, he had a way of always making you feel like the smallest most precious thing alive. 

“But Daddy!” Your protest transformed into a moan midway.

The soldier exhaled a white cloud of eye watering smoke, his eyes squinting as he did so. “Aw,” he chuckled, leaning forward to finger your hair away so he could look at you better. “But what, precious?” His eyes darkly flickered down to your flushed lips and he connected the poisonous stick to his lips again, its lit end glowing a bright amber as he did so. 

“W- Want you!” You were dangerously close but it wasn't enough. “Want you o- only!” You needed him most, always. 

“You do?” He feigned surprise as his voice strained due to how he pushed the cloudy venom into his lungs.

“Yes!” You couldn't believe it. You were doing a hell of a job at showing him what he appeared to be dubious about. He was too mean. But that was exactly what you loved so much about him; the perfect mix of strict and soft.

John shrugged. “I don't believe you.” 

Your eyes widened. “Please!” Your voice became a little too agitated and the man looked at you a bit dangerous now. 

One of his eyebrows raised. “Please… what?” 

Your pussy clenched. God. He was too much. Your chest that spilled over the neckline because of how he had pulled your dress down ached from how it was heaving. “Please, D- Daddy…” A satisfied half smile quirked one side of his mouth up. “Please, n- need you…”

“Yeah?” He cupped one side of your face and collected the half tear that threatened to trickle down your face. 

It was a sign. You must show him. Daddy needed to be earned.

So you obediently wrapped your lips around the thumb he pushed in your mouth after tracing its shape with his rough thumb pad, exhaling through his nose as his eyes squinted again and the sight made you moan. You felt your cheeks hollow as your lips made an embarrassingly loud squeaking sound but you were way too far gone. 

“Oh, baby” John chuckled as he looked down at how you were animalistically grinding against the plushie. Your knees were getting tired and you were desperate. You needed him to lay you down or bend you over or put you on your side and take you until you were full and sore from his girth. “You are drowning Mr. Octs down there” his dirty words both added to the heat in your cheeks and between your legs. You moaned out loud and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Pweeee—” you tried to plead but his thumb alone was too much for you. You were just a little girl after all. You gagged. 

“Is that how you'll suck me dry, baby? You will be good like that for me?” He watched your glittery lip gloss coat his digit as he took a small suck of his dying cigarette. You hoped with everything you had for him not to light a new one. You eagerly nodded. “Gonna be good for your Daddy?” You meweled out a yes, feeling a cold droplet of sweat trickle down the side of your face.

“Mmm” he snuffed out the cigarette in the glittery ashtray that you had bought for him in secret and hid in your boyfriend's presence -since he didn't smoke and neither did you- like your life depended on it. “And how would you like Daddy to be good to you?” The remainder of the smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke.

“Nnng” John pumped his thumb in and out of your lips now. You settled the plushie in a slightly different position so you could free one hand. “Dada~” you lisped out through his digit as you cupped your pussy before moving to your ass and squeezing it before giving yourself a light spank, the twinge of pain bringing you to your orgasm and you threw your head back, feeling your thighs violently shake as you rubbed your cunt hot on Mr. Octs' belly, feeling your insides boil over with the sweet turbulent pleasure.

“Good girl,” the Captain praised as he unplugged your mouth to shrug his flannel off. “You did such a good job for Daddy” your hands desperately darted to your boobs as you squeezed them and pinched the nipples to show him how you wanted them to be treated. Although you knew right then that John would do better and more. He always did. It was the reason why you betrayed your loving boyfriend the way you did. “Now lay back for Daddy and let him take care of you.”

You obeyed but your mouth began to run from the sensitivity and need. “I— Daddy— I—”

“Hey,” the old(er) man pushed you further down with one of your boobs and then crawled over you like a vulture. “Shut up” he softened the blow of his words with a soft kiss, making your upper lip tickled with his bushy mustache. “I got this” he knew you had nothing valuable to say. Your mind just ran too fast sometimes. Fortunately, you had your boyfriend's dad to take the weight off your shoulders. “I got you.” 

. . . 

I appreciate feedback, reblogs and thots. Let's cry about our Daddy together <3 

[msbigredmachine]

Kitty Kat (Roman Reigns)

After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post Summerslam 2024.

Warnings: SMUT (yes i know its excessive im sorry 😭)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This got way too long bc I talk too much. I tried to shorten it I promise but I just couldn't. I do hope you like it either way...

Song inspiration: Again - Lenny Kravitz

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

-------------------

He could get used to this.

As he stepped off the plane, Joe discreetly adjusted the bulge in his pants and exhaled deeply, allowing himself a giddy smile in anticipation for what was to come. 

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His Kitty Kat. The interesting part was that this time, she’d flown him out to come spend the week with her, in First Class, no less. “It’s a five-hour flight from Cleveland to L.A., so I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Daddy,” she’d told him. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision being ‘flewed out’. He’d been the one flying her out in his private jet, chartering luxury vehicles to bring her to him. The reverse felt strange and would take some getting used to, but it did feel nice to be pampered and taken care of for once.

Seated comfortably in the back of the Cadillac Escalade driving him through the City of Angels, he reminisced about last night in Cleveland. It was fun to hear the crowd again, the adrenaline rush of his entrance music blaring all around the Browns Stadium. It was a long absence from wrestling for him, darkened by the passing of his father, followed by the whirlwind preparation and execution of his funeral, grand, exhausting and emotional. Kat being by his side for all of it was a precious elixir he could never repay her for, but perhaps he could start tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. It was an unknown number, but against his better judgment, he answered and hoped it wasn’t some weirdo fan. “Hello?”

“You left town without telling me? I saw you all over Summerslam last night!” the shrill, familiar voice responded.

Scratch that. Now he wished it was a fan. “I know I blocked your ass. This is stalking,” was his cold greeting. 

“I just want us to talk, Joe! We can’t just end things the way we did!”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Ebony. I got the DNA test I wanted. Go find your baby daddy and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you ever gonna forgive me? I made a mistake!” Ebony pleaded. “You didn’t even invite me to Sika’s funeral. That hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Bitch, don’t piss me off!” Joe countered angrily. “Blurting out that I’m not Josiah’s daddy was not a mistake! I also found the messages in your phone, remember? You and your little group chat laughed at me, laughed about me raising a kid that ain't mine!”

“That’s a female ass trait, y’know, lookin’ through my phone and invading my privacy!” Ebony complained.

“You can invade these nuts,” Joe dismissed, “You cheated on me and lied about the paternity of your son! That’s enough for me to wash my hands off of you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

For a second, Ebony was quiet. Then, “Let me guess. You’re with that uppity rich bitch. She was at your dad’s funeral, both of y'all looked so cozy in the videos. She's the reason you don’t wanna work things out, right? Weren’t you seeing her before we broke up? Who’s the cheater now, huh?”

Joe scoffed in disbelief. After all she’d done to make his life a living hell, she was still gaslighting him. “We were over long before I started seeing her. I only hung around cuz I thought the kid you were carrying was mine. Don’t act like your whorish toxic ways didn’t drive me into her arms in the first place! You broke us up, so I’ve moved on from your evil ass. Simple.”

Ebony kissed her teeth. “You are so disrespectful to me, always have been. You never cared about me. It was all about your fucking wrestling. You were always gone! I was lonely! I needed you and you didn't give a shit!”

“So that’s why you opened your legs for some bum, got knocked up, and lied that I was the father? You disrespected yourself!” He felt himself getting riled up and had to compose himself. He would not let his ex ruin his day. “Imma make this clear so even you can understand. We. Are. Done. Call me again and it’s my attorney you’ll be talking to.” Cutting off the call, he then blocked the number and deleted it for added measure.

Fuck that ho.

Anyway, back to his girl, Kat. It had been an amazing few months so far with her. Of course, he’d googled her in the beginning, asked Heyman to run a background check to make sure she was legit and not a psychopath like his ex. Katrina Sullivan was one of the most famous music producers in the world and the top executive at her renowned publishing label. She was a big time player in her industry just like he was, a star in her own right, and it was a match made in Heaven.

Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but sex with her was a wild ride. She gave him a run for his money whenever they fucked. She was all about new experiences and wasn’t too prissy to fuck inside a car or suck him off outside a dive bar. He blushed every time he remembered the freaky shit they got up to after his loss at Wrestlemania. Long story short, she made him feel much better about dropping the belt. He loved that she loved sex as much as he did, and if he wasn’t hooked on her before, he was completely addicted after that night. 

And it wasn’t all about the physical. There was an emotional bond they shared, a connection that he’d never felt with anyone else before her. Talking with her felt like talking with a friend. He would unload his good days and bad days on her and she would listen to all of it without passing judgment. He did the same for her and was proud to be the one she learned to trust after her own past heartbreaks. Joe wished he’d had the courage to leave Ebony earlier. Perhaps he would have found the woman who had become his peace, his safe haven, and closed the hole in his heart much, much sooner.

A Google Map search helped him find the best florist in town. The ladies in the shop ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the beautiful bouquet of roses he bought and how lucky his lady was. But he thought he was the lucky one. As he took a deep breath and inhaled the flowers, he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of her beautiful face, her smile, her warm embrace. Joe knew he was in love, but he didn’t quite know how to tell her yet. It was weird enough that he lowkey felt like a thot being flown out. He really didn’t mind, though. All he wanted was to be with her and just be in her presence, in her aura. He would tell her when he was ready.

-----------------

Kat’s mansion was the stuff of dreams. Isolated on the hills of the Pacific Palisades overlooking lush Californian greenery, it was one of her rewards as the most in-demand producer in music today. The living room segued into the kitchen, which welcomed him with the smell of freshly cooked food. Pasted to her stainless steel refrigerator by a small circular ‘Acknowledge Me’ magnet, was a note from her saying that she’d just headed out for a last-minute meeting and directed him to the oven where a warm skillet of sirloin steak and seasoned roasted potatoes waited for him. She had also stocked her fridge with his Megafit meals along with C4 Energy drinks and a few bottles of her own branded tequila. His baby was spoiling him rotten and he was digging it.

He first put the fresh flowers in a vase he filled with water before settling down to eat. He wished she was here with him, but he understood more than anyone how busy things could be when you were at the top of your game. He was proud of her and wanted her to get all the coins she deserved. Halfway through his meal, he pulled out his phone and checked on her.

After dinner, he embarked on a little tour around her breathtaking abode which ended up taking several minutes to complete. Joe had some nice homes of his own around the globe, but this floored them all. The edifice dripped with luxury and was crafted to perfection, just like his Kitty Kat was. He enjoyed the gorgeous city view from her balcony as he sipped on some tequila. Her bathroom was spacious and had a waterfall shower that he luxuriated in when he stepped inside. One side of her walk-in wardrobe was lined with an assortment of brand new t-shirts, pants and dress shirts all for him. Of course she knew his size; she’d ripped his clothing off of him on many occasions. His stomach was doing flips as the time continued to tick by. It was hilarious that the big bad Tribal Chief was acting all giddy at the mere thought of a woman, but here he was, entangled in her expensive satin sheets, counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms.

----------------

The sound of running water jerked him awake. The plane ride must have worn him out more than he thought; he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep. The sky outside was now pitch black but the bathroom lights were switched on. As he sat upright in the bed, something rolled down his bare chest and onto his lap. He looked down and his breath hitched. A sheer, baby pink-colored thong, just removed. Unable to resist, he held it up to his nose and shivered as her sensual aroma filled his nostrils and sent all his blood rushing south. With newfound enthusiasm, he climbed out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom. 

Katrina’s back was turned to him, standing over the tub as she drained the bath. Draped in a fluffy lilac bathrobe that barely covered her backside as she bent over, Joe chose to stand there and admire her, letting his eyes follow the rivulets of water that trickled down her long shapely legs. He trailed his gaze along the backs of her knees and her oh-so-sexy thighs, stopping at her luscious derrière where he found her pussy lips, slick and glistening, winking at him. He groaned out loud at the sight, feeling his bulge stir in his drawstring shorts.

Alerted by the noise he made, Kat spun around and sighed. "Oh, damn," she frowned and bounced her fist against her thigh.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her reaction. “Did I frighten you?”

“Not really. I wanted to wake you up by sucking your dick.” 

Chuckling heartily, he stepped closer. "You still can, baby. Don’t let me stop you,” he said, sealing their lips together in a kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. He held her tight, molding their bodies together as time seemed to stop all around them. The anticipation had been building all day and just this moment alone was worth the long wait.  

Joe sighed happily against her lips, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “Mmm, I can tell you missed me. Did you miss me, baby?”

“You know I did, Daddy,” she whispered back. It had been months in the making, but Kat was thrilled that he was finally here in her humble abode. She pulled back to regard him, marveling at the sheer height and width of him, his bare, broad chest showcasing that beautiful tattoo and all those muscles. Fuck, he was so hot. “I saw the roses in the kitchen, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Not as beautiful as you are, baby,” Joe answered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was your meeting?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “Waste of my time. Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she added, changing the topic to a more exciting one. “You looked so good last night, babe. I could see how happy you were to be back.”

“I was,” he admitted, his light brown eyes lighting up. “Bro, hearing the fans go bananas when my music hit was insane. And all those fingers in the air, too. Four years of bustin' my ass finally paying off.”

“Huh. I had one finger out too, but it wasn’t in the air, and I was layin’ in bed. Naked,” Kat teased, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

The thought of her writhing around in bed aroused by his show of violence caused another tightening in his shorts. With a growl in his voice, he responded, "Show me." 

“Wait.” She put up one hand before he could grab her. “Before we get started…I never got to ask you because we were so busy with the funeral…But did you take the DNA test?” she asked, watching with dismay as his face fell. He looked away with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something she learned he did when he was reeling in his emotions. 

“Yeah. Josiah’s not mine,” he replied sadly.

Two distinct emotions of her own rushed through Kat at this news. Relief, that he was no longer tied to Ebony and he could now, finally, move on with his life. Move on with her. Disappointment, on his behalf, knowing that he had enjoyed getting to know the baby boy he’d thought was his child. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could muster.

“Don’t be. At least I know the truth now. I care about the kid, but he’s not my responsibility any more,” he choked out, the sting of losing that sweet little boy still raw and painful.

“Oh, baby.” Kat rubbed her hands up and down his broad back to soothe him. She regretted downing the mood and sought to fix it. “What can I do?” 

Joe shook his head and sank into her embrace. “Just be with me, like this. I wanna be with you. Thank you for bringing me out here, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Of course. You know I gotchu,” she assured him, butterflies sprouting inside her belly as he dropped feather-light kisses on her neck, trailing along her shoulder which was soon bare as he slipped off her robe and dropped it to the floor. She tugged down his shorts and her hungry gaze zeroed in on that other part of him that she missed. All those FaceTime calls and selfies did very little justice to the real thing. This was his first time on her turf, and she was determined to use this week wisely, especially as this extended period didn’t quite exist before. 

In the beginning, their meetings were brief and eventful, a couple of hours’ escape from the madness going on in their individual lives. Meet up, scorch the sheets, and wake to the sound of the rustle of clothes pulled from the floor, the sharp zipping of bags, quick kisses goodbye followed by the front door quietly clicking open and shut. At each other’s mercy at sunset then disappearing before dawn to resume reality. It was a thrill at first but as time passed, Kat realized she wanted more with him. She wanted to begin and end her days in his sturdy arms. Wanted them to shower together, to eat together and spend much more time together. Simply put, she wanted to be a real couple, and she was ecstatic when he confessed that he wanted the same. Coming to L.A. was a great start and it excited Kat to no end.

Hand in hand, they walked together, naked, out of the bathroom. She giggled as he followed closely behind her, kissing her neck and touching her body along the way. As they reached the bed, Joe noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. Kat read his mind. “Just a lil’ sumn to celebrate your arrival,” she clarified, as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His gaze was soft, yet beautifully intense as he ran his hands up her thighs and her hips, cupping her backside and bringing her even closer to him. He pressed his lips to her stomach, adorning her belly with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that felt so good she moaned pleasurably in approval.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against her brown skin, his voice clear yet filled with a vulnerability he’d never felt before.

Kat smiled down at him. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For real?” His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Her smile widened as she loosened his ponytail, letting the long dark locks fall and frame his breathtaking features like the angel he was. Her angel. “Yeah. I mean…After everything we’ve shared, after getting to know the beautiful person that you are, of course I’m in love with you too.”

They were words he’d been hoping to hear from her for a while now, and now that he had, he was robbed of every sensation other than joy and peace and the burning need to make love to her nonstop for the rest of his stay in the West Coast. “You’re beautiful too, baby girl,” he rasped, drawing her back in, “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

They clung to each other, making out with increasing passion, both of them extremely aroused and more desperate than ever in the wake of this wonderful revelation. As they kissed, he slipped one hand over her breast, kneading gently, eliciting from her those purring sounds that earned her sexy little nickname. He missed his Kitty Kat so much. The last time they were together was at his father’s funeral, and he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be. Now that they were all alone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her.

But apparently, she had other plans. 

She pushed him hard in the chest, smirking at his surprised grunt as he hit the mattress rather unceremoniously. “Get in,” she instructed him.

He frowned petulantly at her, but did as he was told, dragging himself backwards up the bed with his eyes on her at all times. He felt his mouth go dry as she crawled towards him on all fours like the sexy ass kitten she was. As she reached the space between his open legs, she surprised him by picking up her thong and winding it around his wrists, securing it tight before pushing his arms over his head. 

“Baby…” he pouted.

“Shhhh,” Kat shushed him quietly, thrilled by the submission in his eyes, the surrender in his soft moan, his dick hard and erect in anticipation. Having control over a man like him felt so empowering. Though sexually submissive to him, Kat always enjoyed it when the roles were switched. It never lasted long though, so she planned to make the most of it.

Climbing back down his body, she rubbed her hands on the expanse of his thighs, his caramel skin warm beneath her fingers. She moved higher, coming dangerously close to the pleasure between his legs but avoiding it, for now. She wanted to touch it but the wait was more exciting. Her hands disappeared to squeeze his ass cheeks, and then reappeared over his hips, traveling along the sharpened ridges of his six-pack abs and up to his broad chest. Her body followed suit, sliding up until her thighs bracketed his sides. The little hiss that escaped him as she sat on his torso thrilled her; she knew right away that he could feel her warm moistness against his skin. Her fingers found his nipples next, toying with them before leaning in to lick them, and giggled with amusement when his dick sprang high enough to smack against her backside.

“Fuck, baby, feel what you do to me?” Joe hissed, his cock jumping again as her mouth warmed his neck, nibbling on the shell of his ear as she whispered to him in the softest, deadliest timbre: 

"I’m just getting started, big guy."

Sitting upright on top of him, she reached for the ice bucket, scooping out an ice cube in the shape of an exquisite diamond. The ravenous look in Joe’s eyes matched hers as she sipped on the cube, letting the cold melt on her tongue and travel down her throat. Then, she bent down and kissed him, her cold tongue quickly warming up from the heat of his mouth. The wet muscles moved together in a sweet dance, delightedly intertwining, obsessed with the taste of each other. Kat pressed the ice cube to his chest, giggling when he jerked from the cold, and drew figure eights with it, watching rivulets of water trickle down the sides of his body. She put the ice cube on his right nipple and watched it harden. Then she replaced the ice with her warm mouth on his cold nipple.

“Shit, baby you killin’ me,” he moaned, looking on with hooded eyelids as she kissed down his body. She stopped between his legs, bowing her body in front of his erection, long and thick and hard, precum glistening on his slit. Her tongue darted out to taste it, licking her lips with pleasure. Giving him a sly wink, she took the tip of his dick in her mouth and sucked, winding her tongue around the head like a hungry snake. The moan that escaped his lips was needy and borderline painful, causing her eyes to light up in triumph. 

“When I get my hands on you…” he growled, his expression almost pissed, but Kat knew better. His frustration mingled with his lack of control, control she’d taken from him all day by calling the shots from his travel to the food he ate. The sensual power play continued as she massaged his dick, the thick velvety flesh twitching in her hands as his hands twitched in his makeshift binds. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked up and down his shaft, making slurping sounds that were drowned out by his groans as she spread her saliva all over his dick. She was addicted. He tasted so good and she craved to have her fill.

Putting a smaller ice cube in her mouth, she chewed it, crushing the ice with her teeth. From there, she hugged his dick with her lips, dousing the heat of his flesh with the coldness of her throat. Tiny bits of ice melted against his shaft as she sucked and tongued every inch of him. She could feel his chest heaving and his abs crunching, could hear his strangled moans as he got warmer and got harder in her mouth. He was right where she wanted him. Resting her weight on his burly thighs, she moaned to him to let go, and smiled when seconds later a shout burst from him, his hips arching off the bed as he unloaded down her throat. She drank her fill of him, glancing up to watch the pleasure ravage his huge body, giving a little smile as he floated down back to earth. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his body jerking when she pulled away, letting his dick, slick with her spit and his cum, plop down on his thigh. With one more long, soft kiss to his length, she slithered back up his body, pressing her lips to his for a sweet, delicate kiss which heavily contrasted with the heaviness of his dick brushing along her now-wet opening. Pleasing him turned her on in a way her notoriously composed self could never comprehend.

“You came so hard for me, baby. The look on your face was everything,” Kat gifted him a teasing lash of her tongue against his as she ran her hands up his arms to toy with the sheer material holding him hostage. Lifting her body up, she slowly sank down on his dick, a gasp slipping from her when the smooth tip pierced through her soft, slick folds, enabling her to wind her hips to take him all the way in. They both moaned as the thickness of him nudged her sweet spot, coaxing a whine out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him close, making out with him while slowly rocking her body back and forth, grinding her clit on him. It stunned her to this day, how she was able to take him all, his length and girth filling her and hitting her most sensitive spot right away. The power that coursed through her at making him succumb to her will, no different from any pinning combination or submission move, was intoxicating. Her moans and his groans reverberated through the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex as she loved on him.

“Untie me. Now,” Joe commanded out of nowhere, the roughness of his tone surprising Kat. One look at the power and pleasure on his beautiful face told her he was not taking no for an answer. Obediently, she  reached up and unraveled the underwear from around his wrists, and she had barely tossed it aside when his hands came around her, finding her backside and thrusting deeper into her. Finally, he could touch her the way he wanted. He loved her ass, enjoyed the feel of it gyrating against his palms. He landed a heavy-handed slap on it, making her burrow her face in his neck with a soft cry, the sound growing more desperate as his fingers caressed the supple flesh of her ass while grinding up into her, making her feel so good.

“Such a badass bitch, yet so weak for me. Weak for this dick,” he purred to her with a kiss to her shoulder. The wicked gleam in his eyes had Kat both frustrated and aroused, but the unmistakable glimpse of lust clouding those eyes showed he was just as weak for her. With every downward motion of her hips, she could see him become more mesmerized, his breaths huskier, his face contorting with unbridled bliss as her pussy squeezed his length in deep, throbbing pulls. Sensing him trying to regain control, she beat him to it, pushing up and steadying herself on top of him. With both hands planted on his strong chest, she adjusted her legs in a squat and began bouncing on his dick, up and down, fucking him, taking from him what she wanted, giving him what he needed. 

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten, ride the shit outta my dick,” Joe groaned, his huge hands now clamped around her waist. “I’m here now, baby. I gotchu. Take it out on me, take all that stress out on me.” It was a wonder to watch her, her knees up and wide apart, treating him to the sight of her moist flesh gliding all the way down his turgid flesh and back up, leaving the base of his dick a wet, slippery mess. It looked incredible and felt even better. “You so wet for me, baby girl,” he rasped, reaching up to massage her bouncing breasts. “I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"Yes, Daddy I love it...Shiiit, oh my goddd!" Kat threw her head back, her moans shaky, her body trembling on top of him as waves of ecstasy washed over her thanks to the orgasm wracking her from head to toe.  

“Unnhh yeah, come for Daddy, come on my dick,” he moaned back to her, his full lips parted and panting, his eyes boring into hers as he watched her come undone. Overcome with passion, he sat upright and tugged her flush against him, his breath hitching as the action sank him even deeper into her. He needed to hold her to him, needed to make her all his. “I ain’t pullin’ out,” he announced, moving her on him again, “I'ma come all up inside you, baby.”

His words sank in, but any coherent answer she had disappeared with another rake of his dick against her g-spot. Wordlessly, Kat snuggled into his warm embrace, locking her arms and legs around him as she continued to grind on him in a deliciously erotic rhythm. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Joe planted a big kiss upon her throat, her jaw, then her lips, enjoying the taste of her moans as his hips rolled along with hers like a choreographed dance. Emotions were high as they joined as one, surrounded by the sounds of the newfound love they were finally expressing to each other. The mattress bounced beneath them, the legless bed rocking in tune with their heated bodies rocking on top of it. Every worry they had was gone and replaced with a hunger and need for the other that they both knew they would never be able to satiate.

"I love you," Joe whispered, pushing her hair out of her eyes to gaze into them.

“I love you too, baby...oh fuck,” Kat panted, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands sliding down to grip his ass as she bucked her hips like a mad woman. Joe moved with her, not missing a single beat. His own release was building fast within him, too fast. The blood was pounding in his head and tightening his balls as her pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was having a hard time catching his breath. They soon realized they were climaxing together, both shaking from the intense, throbbing waves of pleasure. Kat’s toes curled into the sheets as she felt his warm fluid gushing into her pussy just like he wanted, felt his body pulse as hard as his dick pulsing deep inside of her. No piece of music, no music video she created could ever compare to the magic she made with this incredible man, ever be as beautiful as the sight of his face scrunching up helplessly as his orgasm consumed him. So she kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, watching all the emotions sweep his gorgeous visage like an unforgettable movie. 

An eternity later, their movements slowed, their breathing calmed, their hearts racing as one as the world returned to normal. Joe felt light as air as he fell back onto the bed, Kat melting into him with her head on his chest, where his heart beat for her. He was still inside her and she kept him there, wanted to be filled with all his love in the very best way.

“Welcome home, my love,” she giggled, soothed by his own throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed her forehead. She wished she could bottle the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his soft lips, bottle this very moment forever.

“Glad to be home, my love,” he answered, his fingers caressing her back as he kissed her mouth. “I can tell my time in L.A. is gonna be fun.”

"Mm-hmm. We got all week, Daddy," Kat eyed him with a sly smile, tracing her manicured index finger along his tattooed pectoral, "Like I said, we're just getting started."

THE END.

--------------

A/N: This is the only story I've had the energy to complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!

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