#throttles him. dumbass boy

[cantuscorvi]

For some reason when I'm looking for Raum's muse lately, this little brat is the only one who is looking back at me. 😒

[wisteriaiswriting]

Introducing Your Brother to Your Boyfriend

Words: 357

Request: Yoru's older brother reader who's radiant power is that of a dragon and him introducing his boyfriend (Sova, phoenix, iso) to his brother.

“Sasha, don’t you dare.” Staring at the man who held another piece of jewelry in his hand, prepared to hand it over to the sales associate. “мой дракон,” Pulling you close while holding the object behind him, “You deserve the world, let me give it to you.” God was he cheesy sometimes.

“Y/N?” Huh? Turning around to find Yoru standing outside the store, “Yoru!” Stepping away from your boyfriend to bother your brother instead, allowing him to buy the piece of jewelry. “God, I haven’t seen you in forever! Speaking of, what happened to you?” Finding plenty of small scars around his face.

“Doesn’t matter, what are you doing with Owl boy over there?” “You mean Sasha?” Said man reached for your hand with his own, “Do you two know each other?” “Kinda, but what are you two doing?” “We’re on a date.”

Yoru was quiet, turning to glare up at Sova. Suddenly stepping up to the man, no words were said but there seemed to be some sort of understanding as both of them nodded.

“RYO!” Jamie was busy ordering his ice-cream, already with three flavours in his cup. Turning around when he heard you shout the familiar name, watching as you pull the already struggling man into an embrace. “About time you turned up!” He was trying to pull away as you messed up his hair. “Didn’t really have a choice, did I?” “Nope!”

“Yoru, my man, what are you doin’ here?” “Dumbass here wanted me to meet his boyfriend,” You two know eachother? “Where is he?” “You’re lookin’ at him.” Gesturing to Jamie, who held two cups of ice-cream while looking worried.

“Really,” Turning to face you, “Out of all people, you choose him?” Ryo looked ready to throttle Jamie right now. “Uh, yeah! What’s not to love about me?” “Everything.” Yoru’s hand grabbed Jamie’s shirt to pull him outside and out of your view.

Both spending a few minutes outside as you ate your ice-cream, watching Yoru give you a quick wave before teleporting away. Jamie returned looking roughed up, trying to smooth down everything. “Where were we?”

Peering over Iso’s shoulder to watch the video on his phone, it was Yoru flailing about while one of his friends, was he his friend? He didn’t tell you much about his life, much less about work.

Eventually when the video ended Iso swiped over to a different app, not caring as you kept watching. Both of your heads snapping up when the familiar sound of Yoru teleporting was heard, watching as the man entered the room.

“Oi Y/N, whe–” “Oh, Yoru…” “本当に?” “始めるな.” Grumbling at your retort because, sadly, you were right. He couldn’t judge you, grabbing what he wanted before leaving.

[altschmerzes]

THE 13 BOOKS I READ IN 2023 IN ORDER FROM BEST TO WORST + THE PROTAGONIST'S SUPERLATIVE. PART 2.

6. A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engel. a timeless classic that i love love love. meg is such a fun protagonist and i really enjoyed experiencing this as an adult again. the whole like… helpless devastated rage she feels when she realizes that adults can't just. fix everything? that sequence will always rattle me around like a mason jar fulla beans. she's such a like… man. the way the narrative was like. this isn't fair. it isn't right. it's happening anyway. i'm so sorry, but it's happening anyway. that really got me.

Protagonist: Meg Murry. Most Likely To Have A Profound And Life Altering Impact On Adolescent Weird Girls Who Read Her Book.

7. Whiskeyjack by Victoria Goddard. third book in the series, slightly less fun than the others but only very slightly. i cannot emphasize enough how difficult it was to rank like, 2-8. had some VERY fun stuff with like…. things you learn that then go back and recontextualize everything else. ended on a scene that made me fucking sob which is always a plus in my book. themes of FAMILY and LOYALTY and SACRIFICE. my fucking beloved. yes please. the pov character continues to have a horrible little time. also love that.

Protagonist: (again, series has dual protagonists, so switching back) Peregrine Dart. Most Likely To Be The Unwitting Conduit Of The Deus Ex Machina. Deus Ex Dart.

8. One By One by Ruth Ware. just a really good classic mystery thriller. i love a mystery thriller, and ruth ware seems to always hit for me. managed to pull off a pov switch between two pov characters one of whom had a massive, MASSIVE secret without it seeming completely nonsensical once revealed or relying on the pov character talking in deliberately obtuse or evasive ways that would be really tiresome and insulting if carried through. there was a set of tech bro startup characters that were obnoxious and infuriating in exactly the way that those people are in real life, so points for that for SURE even though i did wanna throttle them.

Protagonist: Erin (Lastname). Most Deserving Of A Tropical Vacation.

9. The Ritual by Adam Nevill. this is the most brutal book i have read in recent memory. possibly at all. this guy gets put all the way through the wringer physically and emotionally and it is visceral in the way it is described. the protagonist was a profoundly unpleasant person a lot of the time but this was deliberate and really engaging, honestly. there were some moments of stark self-reflection from him about the ways in which he did not like who he was and the things he did, and when he recognized how like. unfair and cruel he was being to the others in his head. wasn't as good as the movie, imo, but the changes that they made between the book and film made total sense given the sheer level of interiority in the book. and boy howdy how much interiority. whoof.

Protagonist: Luke. Most Surprising Survival.

10. I Am Not Who You Think I Am by Eric Rickstad. i think the most damning thing that can be said about this book is that i literally can't remember almost anything about it. it was compelling in some ways and there were a few very specific moments that i was really gripped by but most of it was like. a really flat letdown. it was interesting enough as a mystery that i finished it but i don't even really remember why, now.

Protagonist: Wayland Maynard. Most Forgettable Guy.

11. The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken. just. ugh. dystopia ya in a bad way. too complicated and not well established. dumbass colour coding system. it could've been so fun, i love traumatized teenagers with powers and an evil government in all sincerity but this just did not do anything good with it. it looked like it COULD have but it DIDN'T. the love interest character was a DICK. there was some weird gender takes that popped out of nowhere. jump-scared by gender. did enjoy watching the movie though because it was fucking insane and gave me a scene where the protagonist and the love interest shared a passionate embrace over what fully appeared to be the dead body of the love interest's theoretical best friend. amazing. no notes.

Protagonist: Ruby Daly. Most Likely To One Day Decide She's Tired Of Being Nice And She Does Want To Go Apeshit Actually.

12. Reputation by Sarah Vaughan. [VIDEODROME PRESCREEN AUDIENCE REVIEW WHERE THEY JSUT WROTE 'SUCKED' AND GOT SO UPSET ABOUT HOW BAD IT WAS THEY MARKED THE WRONG GENDER] this book was BAD. the writing was bad. the characters were bad and not on purpose. the politics of the book were uh. whoof. what if white girlboss feminism was a novel. points for some of the hardest i've laughed tho at Nice Dick Mike the journalist that the protagonist cannot respect after she sleeps with him and Lady Cop With Bangs, the traitor to womanhood.

Protagonist: Emma Webster. Most Likely To Submit An Extremely Long Post To Reddit Dot Com Slash Am I The Asshole That Leaves Out A Lot Of Like, Extremely Critical Information That When Uncovered All Makes Her Look Really Fucking Bad While She Seems To Still Think It Was Entirely Irrelevant And Honestly Unfair To Even Consider. Gd Forbid Women Do Anything.

UNCATEGORIZED: 21st Century Jocks: Sporting Men And Contemporary Heterosexuality by Eric Anderson. there was simply no way to rank this among the others, it was too completely different. they were all very different books but this was just. entirely different. had a wonderful time with it though!! gave me a lot to think about as someone who thinks a lot

thank you for joining me on this journey. i loved reading books again this year and would wholeheartedly recommend anything ranked 1-9 on this list, provided you like the genre/vibe.

[redwayfarers]

Wayfarer Week: Injury

Fandom: Wayfarer IF Ship: N/A Characters: Cassander Inteus (OC), Amali Sero, Aeran Kellis Rating: Gen (vague descriptions of an injury) Words: 702 As it says on the tin - prompt 3 for @wayfarer-week! Enjoy my boy being a dumbass lmao

Sero is cleaning their daggers when the news reaches them. It’s already been a shitty week, all things considered, and they do      not    need any more additional stressors. So here they are, secluded in their study, trying to process it all and just take a moment for themself when someone knocks on the door.

“Kellis,” they greet, lifting their eyes from the daggers. They shine brighter than jewels on the Emperor’s crown, but it doesn’t stop them from giving them a loving, thorough sweep once more. Sero takes a moment to look Aeran over - his hair’s messy and dirty, there are bags under his eyes and he smells of days on the road. There’s a patchy stubble he has yet to shave off. Worry’s etched into the lines of his face. “Kellis, what happened?”

“I came to give my report,” he says. “Cass would’ve come with me as well, but he’s with Sirin now. Bastard almost got killed by a beast.”

Sero’s heart drops to their heels. Their face hardens and they’re on their feet in moments. “Where’s the injury? What did Sirin say?” 

“On his back– I took him there as quickly as I could but–” Aeran is gripping the door tightly. His nails are scarily white. Sero places a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezes. 

“Calm down, kid,” they say, playing up the certainty of their voice. “He’s in capable hands. You go wash up. Any reports can wait until the morning.” 

“I–” Aeran looks down. “I will.” As soon as he’s out of sight, though, Sero all but flies down to the infirmary. Their heart beats wildly. Aeran’s reaction indicates this injury isn’t a mere scratch. Did it touch the spine? Stars and hellfire, not the spine. They move on instinct, trying to will themself not to freak out. 

Not him, not him, not him, Sero chants, opening the doors loudly. Their eyes fly over the infirmary, looking for the familiar sight of red hair. Before they spot Cassander, however, they spot Sirin, who’s washing her hands next to a nearby, empty cot. She nods at them and approaches, drying her hands. 

“Grandmaster?” her voice is measured and even.

“Cassander–” 

“Will live,” Sirin finishes, tipping her head in the direction of a certain cot. And sure enough, Sero sees Cass’ bright, red head and the tips of his ears. “But can you keep your voice down? He, like the rest of the people here, is sleeping.” 

Sero sighs deeply in relief and clears their throat. A part of them wants to offer an explanation - my son is injured and I wish to see him - but the admission doesn’t really sit right with them. Not like this. Not to Sirin before anyone else. The other part, the Grandmaster one, makes them straighten their back and nod. It’s that part that also says, “I apologize. Is the injury serious?”

“He’s very lucky that it missed the spine just so. As it is right now, it’s deep, but nothing life-threatening.” Sirin squints. “I do recommend he grow a pair of eyes behind his head, though. This kind of luck doesn’t happen twice.” 

Sero rubs their temples. So he’s been a dumbass, so innocently unaware of what his recklessness does to people around him. They recall Aeran’s worried face, the whites of his nails as he grips the door. The desire to throttle Cassander sometimes overpowers them, but Sero persists. “I hope he learned his lesson, for fuck’s sake,” they reply. 

“Me too. I’d hate to patch him up twice over the same mishap.” With that, she goes on her merry way and Sero makes a beeline for Cass’ cot. Their hands shake just slightly as they remove hair from his eyes and feel the steadiness of his breath against their fingers. His skin is warm, sharp with growing stubble, and alive.

“I’ll throttle you when you heal, I swear,” they whisper. “Don’t make us worried like this.” Not you, not you, not you. Not you, of all people. Their hand stays for a moment longer. But they should let him rest now, probably. 

There’s a time and a place for accusations of dumbassery, but for now, they’re just happy he’s alive.

[katasstrophy]

he did so!! it was so cute!! I love horror too so it was fun!! But the funniest part was when we were walking out he got a text from Isagi and co. to come to this sports bar to watch Noel Noa's game that night. Rin rolled his eyes and huffed while I lightly bullied him to agree bc damn does he need friends. What finally got him to agree was me getting down on one knee and 'proposing' to him to take me with him to the sports bar to romantically watch a football game together~ and it caused .2/3

OMG NONNIE DEAR IM SO SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE FIRST PART OF UR ASK WITHOUT ELABORATING ON ANYTHING ASJSHSBDKD IM A DUMBASS BUT I HAVE A PICTURE OF IT THANKFULLY PLS FORGIVE MY SILLY SAUSAGE FINGERS !! 😔🙏

1/3:

2/3:

the ask up top!! ^^^^

3/3:

Rin so much secondhand embarrassment, he grabbed me by my arm, flustered and annoyed as all hell, and dragged me away but not before I screamed, "HE SAID YES!! :DDD" Boy was gonna throttle me. But we went to the sports bar!! He met up with friends and got to bully people lightly and talked football strategies with Isagi while I fed him nachos!! Told Bachira about our date and getting Rin to the bar, and he said 'wowwww Rin might actually kill you' 'I know man it's gonna be so hot' .3/3

i hope this isn’t too confusing i tried my best to remedy the situation again i’m really sorry :(( but !!!

omg that is saaauurrr cute. rinnie baby dating someone who’s just as into horror as he is waaahhh that’s some it couple energy right there <3 i’d bet y’all would try to find the most obscure horror films once you both get bored of the mainstream stuff lol. the biggest question before movie night starts is do you actually wanna feel the adrenaline (because ppsshhh you don’t get scared nuh uh🙄) or make fun of the shitty jump scares iconic.

(i can’t do horror for the life of me but i’m rooting for y’all!! i can just be his true crime girlie<3 which rin would find so strange and weird he’d be like “so you get scared from fictional murderers but real life murderers are okay?” “well i guess if you put it like that yeah” “…. what’s wrong with you” LMAO)

OMG NOT THE PROPOSAL PLS HE’D HATE IT SO MUCH (lie he hates that he’s blushing because he secretly loves your weird ass antics). pls he needs someone to gently coax him out of his comfort zone 🥺 like yeah his quote on quote friends are loud and stupid and blablabla but he can suffer through it spend time with them<3 my fave part was definitely the ‘i know man it’s gonna be so hot’ IM CRYING nonnie you get it yeah absolutely. rin being mad just does something to me ya know 🥴 i think it’s the eyes and how dead and uninteresting they look 😍 yummmm amiright?? ;))) (no he loves you so much okay he just has the emotional intelligence of a lamppost cut him some slack)

[drabbles-mc]

I've been wanting to get to this fic for so long. And i'ts finally time. i'm finally ready to have my heart broken for almost 9k straight. If I lose the last of my marbles because of this it will have been MORE than worth it

Omg stop she BOOKED the flight for Carmy and he STILL didn't come through??? OH I could just fucking THROTTLE him!!!! Like I get it. I fucking get why he didn't show but STILL!!!!

It never mattered to you, it never even crossed your mind, that was until this moment. -> noooo I just want to hug herrrrrrr

just be with the one sibling who showed up -> Anj I simply will not survive this entire fic. I'm going to die of heartache before I make it through

I know we talked about the Sugar & Richie hug but seeing it play out in front of me just has me so 🥺🥺🥺

I love the difference in how she feels about Mikey compared to Carmy. And I feel like it does very much relate back to blood sibling versus chosen sibling. I have a lot of thoughts and I could write a dissertation but instead I'm going to keep crying over this story

He let out a laugh. “Fuckin’ amateur.”  -> fuck off I'm laughign so hard at this. Fuckin Richie 😂😂😂

For a second, you went to defend him. Old habits die hard, you know. But then you really took in what he said it was true. Carmy was a mess. Even before this. -> homegirl really picked one of the messiest boys on the planet to make her best friend. Braver than any US Marine.

“Alright well pulse check me when you’re home or whatever.”  -> stop. stop it right now. the way I'm so unwell about this man. I'm shaking my head and I'm laughing and I'm just!!! I'm obsessed with him lmao

Richie fuckin' Jerimovich. We LOVE a 1am bail call!!!!!!! And by we I mean just me and -> none of the characters in this story, but still 😂

All bottom shelf and probably expired. -> honestly??? she's so fucking valid for this 😂 it also made me wonder if any of the liquor i have in my house is expired. a task for another day lmao

The last word he spoke came out in an accent that made you almost spit out your drink from choking on it.  -> this is one of those moments when reader and i really ARE the same person. I'm losing my shit 😂😂😂

“I just want to feel fucking normal again.”  -> and that's that on grief!!!!!!!

“If you want to turn this into a shit on Carmy fest, we can. I’ve got ammo for days.” -> the way I would pay Taylor Swift prices to get a front-row seat to that

The way my heart is fucking ACHING over her monologue. My girl really is just carrying the weight of so much shit all the time. God. I just wanna hug her

“I don’t know what that says about you or the company you keep.” -> you know I bag on Richie for being a dumbass as much as anyone but he really is right on the money with this one 😂😂😂

I just felt this anger in me, like I wished I pulled that fuckin’ trigger. -> there is something so real and honest and raw about Richie. Like we all know that he loves to talk his shit, but when he flips that switch, he really is one of the most brutally genuine people on the planet. Like this line gave me chills because I just know that he was really about it

No but the way that drunkenly making out with Richie on a fire escape would be the factory reset that I desperately fucking need 😂 when will it be MY turn????

Richie showing up with a whole-ass BUFFET!!! That's my man!!!!!!!

ANJ I LOVE THEM!!!!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!! I know we talk about them all the time and I know that you know I love them but I just need to say it again!!!! Because this is so fucking good!!!!!! I'm flopping around like a fish I just can't contain my excitement!!!!!!

Shoulder to cry on

Richie Jerimovich x Reader

Day 23 from these April Prompts: “Somethings aren’t replaceable”

Summary: Mikey’s funeral brings an unexpected person into your life more.  Continuation of these fics: Pillow Forts and Soft Spot. 

Word Count: 8.7k (i got carried away, okaaaaaay)

A/N: okay, this is probably one of my FAVORITE fics, this universe as a whole is my favorite but this specific fic just… has a special place in my heart.  Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Heavy angst, shit talking, cursing (lots), mentions of death, drugs, drinking, abuse, alludes to sexual situations.  The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc​ @justreblogginfics 

Previous Fic: Soft Spot

Keep reading

[lovelytsunoda]

lovelytsunoda’s definitive motorsports fiction rec-list

because i am a bookworm and aspiring goodreads influencer. this is where i am going to fawn over fictional men and addictive storytelling.

part one/ ?

throttled - lauren asher ( dirty air #1 )*

rating: 4 stars

where to begin with this one? i have a whole pinterest board but that’s a story for another day. maya alatorre’s brother santiago just beame the secondary driver for bandini and she’s joining the team on the road for race season, where she meets ( and ultimatley falls in love with ) noah slade, formula one’s resident golden boy and legacy driver with daddy issues. featuring enemies to lovers, brother’s rival and secret romance.

collided - lauren asher ( dirty air #2 )*

rating: 4.5 stars

set in the same world as throttled, collided follws sophie mitchell, daughter of bandini team principal james mitchell as she spends the summer on the road with the team, and finds her way into the arms of german mccoy driver liam zander ( who is literally the PERFECT man, like he hits every single point on my trifecta: he’s german, he drives a formula one car and he reads books ). liam is mccoy’s resident bad boy, and his pr team has him on a dating ban after he sleeps with the team principals niece. sophie has a naughty ( vvv spicy ) bucket list, and liam offers to help her out, falling hopelesley in love along the way.

thunderstruck - roxanne st.clair ( harlequin nascar )

rating: 3.5 stars

shelby jackson is the co-owner of the last family owner team in the nascar nextel cup series. sadly, thunder racing is in a terrible financial position and they haven't won anything in years. something that british soccer player mick churchill wants to change when he offers to by the other half of the team. shelby is unimpressed, and keeps trying to push mick out of the business, ultimately falling in love with him in the process. shelby is a girlboss, who commands attention everywhere she goes. mick is a dumbass, match made in heaven. the cover on this one SUCKS but the book is pretty good for being written in 2007, however it lacks any sexy time scenes, as the scenes always cut before there is any real smut.

flash and bones - kathy reiches ( temperance brennan / bones #14 )

rating: 4.5 stars

a dead body is found in an oil drum in the waste processing facility behind the charlotte motor speedway ahead of nascar race week. forensic anthropologist temperance brennan lands the case, and begins looking into the disappearance of a seventeen year old girl and her older boyfriend twelve years prior at the behest of a nascar mechanic related to one of the missing. from there, it’s a rich mystery and vast conspiracy involving militia groups, the fbi, biotoxins and car racing. listen, i was already in love with detective andrew ryan from the other temperance brennan books, but to find out that he is a jacques villeneuve fan, i am swooning.

wrecked - lauren asher ( dirty air #3 )*

rating: 5 stars

this book broke me, i'm not even kidding. this book is forced proximity and enemies to lovers between driver jax kingston and elena gonzalez, his media rep. they both have torubled pasts, and i f i could just warp them both in bubble wrap and protect then from the rowld, i would. jax is dangerously self-destructive, and elena has a hard time letting people in, but once they break down their walls (and god does it take a while) they are truly made for each other.

yes i cried like a baby, no i will not elaborate.

taming zach - amy sparling ( team loco #1 )

rating: 3 stars even.

cute, wholesome but predicatable and a little lame. this book follows motocross racer zach pena who has lost his focus on the sport and this also lost his place at the summer classic. as he risks getting cut from the team, he heads back home to hopewell, where he falls in love with bree grayson, the daughter of the groundskeeper ath hopewell motocross park. it's calssic good girl-bad boy shit, and it's been done many times before. although it can get steamy, there's no smut.

currently undecided if im actually going to finish the series.

redeemed - lauren asher ( dirty air #4 )*

rating: 5 stars

santaigo motherfucking alatorre. santaigo is recovering from a crash at silverstone three years ago that resulted in the loss of his right leg. since the crash, he's sequestered himself inside his mansion on lake como and hidden himself away from the world. chole carter never knew who her father was. after her roomate buys her a drugstore dna kit, she finally has her father's identity and finds herself on a trip to lake como to find him.

what i really liked about this one was that as they fell in love with each other, they also learned how to love themselves more in the process.

the final ranking order i have for the dirty air series (and men) is as follows: 1. Redeemed (Santi), 2. Wrecked (Jax), 3. Collided (Liam), 4. Throttled (Noah).

*bonus chapters are available for all the dirty air books at lauren asher’s website!

[gardenerian]

OH what are some ways Mickey is powerless to his puppy hubby 🥹🥰

ian knows his own power, which drives mickey up the goddamn wall. but he still remains powerless to puppy husband....

ian eats the last muffin, mickey wants to throttle him. franny and debs made his favorite kind - chocolate chip, basically a cupcake asfkldh - and he was looking forward to it for his sunday snack. he comes into the kitchen and sees the tin sitting in the sink, crumbs still at the bottom - fucker didn't even wash it. he marches out onto the balcony, ready to push ian over the edge, when puppy husband works his magic. 🥺 i'm sorry mick 🥺 it looked so good 🥺 i am a growing boy 🥺 i'll make you more 🥺 and damn it if the idea of that stupid face covered in flour doesn't melt mickey's gay little heart lmao

mickey and his brothers go on some wacky roadtrip to see mandy. ian can't go (work thing? school thing?), and he's devastated. so ian calls and texts and facetimes all day long like 🥺 are you driving safely 🥺 can you call me 🥺 where you eating dinner tonight and can you please eat a vegetable 🥺 do you miss me 🥺 what color is mandy's hair now 🥺 i miss you 🥺 tell mandy i said hi 🥺 and iggy's like TURN YOUR PHONE OFF but mickey just makes sure it's always charged up so he can chat with his eager dumbass

and then of course when he gets back home, ian attacks mickey with hugs and slobbery kisses and bounds around the apartment all excited, following him from room to room 🥺🥺🥺 crawls into mickey's lap and stays there for hours like 😇

[plutosexc]

❝ TEACH ME HOW TO RIDE ❞

〃 draken x black!fem!reader

〃headcanons ; Draken teaches the reader how to ride his motorcycle

〃 for @koishiguro’s collab here 🤎

〃warnings & genre ; none + fluff, crack?

⭆ This was most definitely your idea. Draken would’ve never suggested something so dangerous. He knows you can hold your own, but he wouldn’t willingly put you in a situation where you could get hurt.

⭆ It definitely took some convincing and by convincing I mean you didn’t give him much of a choice. You went over to his house because you guys were gonna hang out for a while.

“Ken let me ride your motor bike.”

“No.”

⭆ Literally said no just like that. So you started acting cold toward him until he gave in.

“Babe, can you come here for a sec?”

“No.”

“Ouch. Are you still mad about the bike thing? It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine, you’re being dramatic love. Just teach me how to ride.”

⭆ Sucked his teeth, but agreed. Now Draken has a lot of patience, being that he deals with Mikey, but no one told him how much of a hassle this would be.

⭆ You both made your way out to the back, it was a pretty empty street so you could practice there. When y’all got back there you hopped right on the bike, no helmet, no idea what to do, lost asf but ready to pull off. He had to reel you back in.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m ready to pull off.”

“No you’re not dumbass. You have no helmet and don’t even know the basics.”

“You’re a slow ass teacher. Hurry up babe.”

“Don’t rush me because I’m worried about your safety. Here.”

⭆ He gave you this old ass helmet that wasn’t even cute.

“Let me tie up your hair. The braids are long and they might get in the way.”

“Alright.”

⭆ You were in this bulky ass helmet and your hair was pulled back. Not a flattering image. (but you’re still bad asf and he knows it 👩🏽‍💻) His bike was a Kawasaki Zephyr 400.

“Okay now pay attention and listen because you’re stubborn.”

“You ain’t have to add that part.”

“This is the ignition switch to turn on the bike and this is the engine kill switch to turn it off. Right here is the throttle, you twist the throttle toward you to accelerate so be careful.”

⭆ You had been listening while he was explaining, but you couldn’t help and stare at him with admiration. Even though he was against the idea at first he did end up doing it because it’s what you wanted.

⭆ That just goes to show how much this boy cares about you, he wouldn’t spend time just teaching anyone.

“Don’t go too fast and start braking with these a few seconds before you want to stop. Ease off the throttle and press down on the rear brake. Squeeze the front breaks at the same time and hold the clutch too, then you’re good.”

“You know that was a lot to take in, but I got it.”

⭆ Eventually you took off and did great for a first timer. Draken just walked to the end of the street instead of letting you ride back (💀). He was so proud of you, but he’ll be damned if he came out his face and said that. You would most def make fun of him for being so worried in the first place.

“You see that? You were worried for what? Ya girl a natural mhm!”

“Yea yea okay. You did good, but all you did was go in a straight line.”

“Shut up. I didn’t ask. You’ll be teaching me more tomorrow though.”

⭆ This mf walked away.

〃now when i tell yall i had an image of the bike pulled up + a motorcycle diagram and a site that gave instructions on how to stop a moving bike. yea we out here researching ig ‼️👩🏽‍💻

〃as always i hope y’all enjoyed :)

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[hanji-is-life]

literally been on my mind all day but I’ve just been thinking about Best Friend Bakugou!

It’s just. So many tales I could recount about being best friends with the gremlin. I don’t even know where to start.

this got really long omg

He really didn’t think he’d get along with you as well as he does now. When you guys first met, you definitely piqued his interests because of your no-shit attitude when it came to him and him only. You weren’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit or put him in his place or get into screaming matches with him. Before you knew it, y’all were the true Pretty Best Friends™️

On days where you don’t feel like doing your own hair, if you complain enough, he’s doing it for you. He’ll sit you between his legs, grab whatever product he needs, and baby boy goes to WORK. If you have braids you need to take out, you somehow trust him enough with the scissors. Protective style, he’s looking up how and can perfect that shit in under three hours. If you have locs, he’s retwisting your roots. Your edges are laid to the gods. This boys hands are blessed.

Someone said it before, but he’s definitely the type to have cursed pictures of you. If you fall asleep on FaceTime with your bonnet halfway off of your head, glasses skewed, mouth dropped open with drool, anything. He’s got a picture of it. Makes it his Home Screen to be an ass and refuses to change it. He smiles to himself every time he sees it though, cause you look so adorable and gross.

He always has to touch you. Like, always. Head on your shoulder, laying on your lap, feet on your arms (why? who the hell knows). His favorite position is when you’re laying on the floor of your living room playing with your switch on your stomach. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to nuzzle his head in between your cheeks.

Flicks his boogers on you and gets mad when you get mad. Also throws his dirty socks in your face and, again, gets mad when you get mad.

Definitely likes to match and color coordinate with you. You guys always show up to functions with something matching—from your shoes to his hoodies, your shirt to his socks, your earrings to his necklace. Most of the time it’s his idea, by harsh suggestions. “You’re gonna wear that? No, that looks fucking dumb. Wear this instead.” This always matches whatever he has on, not so coincidentally.

Always does petty, childish shit to annoy you. Will most definitely give you wet willies when you’re trying to watch a tv show. Will also pin you and force you to smell his pits every time you tell him to shut up. Will also definitely wipe his sweat from his face onto yours when you say he stinks. “Now we both stink, dumbass.”

Calls your ass flat when it looks really good, just to fuck with you. Also slaps your boob because the jiggle is funny to him.

Will do Tik Toks with you, but complains the whole time. You have to promise him a shitload of things to do his makeup and record it. You promise him it won’t go viral since you don’t get that many views anyway. It goes viral. You have to hide in your closet to keep him from throttling you because now his whole agency keeps complimenting him on how red lipsticks and thick lashes look good on him.

Don’t even think about trying to get a boyfriend. You kinda don’t want anyone since you have the tiniest humongous crush on your best friend. But don’t worry! Bakugou is cock blocking anyway :)

Thursday nights are Best Friend Nights. You two order something or he cooks, rent a movie, play games and spend the night over each other’s houses. It usually results in long conversations and talks and almost-confessions before you guys always lose your nerve.

You definitely have matching bonnets and scarves, but he refuses to wear the orange silk durag you got him :(

Everyone thinks you two are in a relationship and have plenty of evidence that backs them up. Like that one time the BakuSquad surprised him at his house, and caught the two of you coming out of the shower together. Why? Because best friends wash each other’s backs! Or the other time you two had a spa day, and he was painting your nails and giving you a massage and you were both naked because best friends are that comfortable together! Or the fact that he’s the only one who he shares his food with and doesn’t mind eating after you, even if it’s directly from your fork. Or that you give him good luck kisses on his cheek and jaw whenever he’s about to do reckless shit.

More bestie things include mutual masturbation or teaching the other how the other’s body’s work! When a sex scene comes on and it’s just too hot to ignore, you’ll lend a helping hand to the boner that he tries his best to hide. Or when you’re PMSing and he eats you out for hours and stuffs you with fingers until you’re crying about it being too much. Or him teaching you the best method of deep throating through many trial and errors. Or you teaching him the best way to hit it from the back.

Best friend Bakugou who will absolutely fuck you into the mattress whenever you’re about to go on a date. He’s fucking you stupid and crying on his cock, makes you call your date and tell him you have to cancel through hiccuping moans and cries. So after he makes you cum too many times to count, he’s picking up your limp body and carrying you to the couch for some bestie bonding/aftercare time because all you need is your best friend, not some fucking loser who’s only gonna break your heart in the end...(he’d never break your heart, but is too chicken shit to say it out loud)

Telling him that you’ll suck his dick if he does outlandish shit for you. You’re so surprised when he actually does it, that you’re automatically tying your braids back or slapping a scarf on because he deserves it at this point. He’s definitely a simp for his bff.

Loves when you get dressed in front of him, so he can comment on the new panties and bra set you got. You might have worn it on purpose knowing you had to change when you got to his house.

Buys you things best friends don’t usually buy each other for their birthdays like, flowers that mean “confession” and “love” and “adoration” and chocolate covered strawberries that spell out “be my gf” and a new lingerie set, but y’all are just extra close like that.

Just bestie things :)

[rattlerinthewheel]

Fruit Bat: Scud/Reader

He should know better than to irritate the vampire that’s already pissed, wounded, and starving—so you teach him.

For the Kinky Things Happen bingo square: vampires and discipline, at @pandoratriestowritestuff’s request for some Scud. Credit to them and @phoenixblack89, who talked about Scud getting spanked and choking on a donut, for the respective scenes.

- - -

You’re still pissed at him.

But it’s hard to give him the silent treatment when you need to get at the junk around the tables. Move, pass me that wrench, throw me that wire, is dry and distant, work-related; but turn that shit down, quit spewing crumbs, stop grabbing me, and other growls that aren’t related to the tech you’re fiddling with get read as some sign—to keep doing those things, but that’s sure not what your glares should be saying.

Well, it isn’t a surprise that he’s being a dumbass about it. A moron about a lot of shit, lately, the bandage on your arm can vouch for that. And it was an accident, sure, you wouldn’t usually blame him for aiming that UV flashlight at anything that swarmed at him on a job; but he’d been high and you’d called out a warning, dammit, and he still got you with it. Burned like a motherfucker, like acid.

His apology was huffed, high-sluggish, and rank like the shitty weed he’d been toking.

Maybe he’s realizing you’re really pissed, content with just your hand as company for a few days, because you haven’t taken a break even once from this group project—a net of UV panels you can drape over the van; they stay off for now, obviously—to get your hands down his pants, or his down yours.

But Josh—Scud’s dumb, and it pisses him off to be called Josh, so of course that’s what you call him—is definitely high, not as sharp as he’d otherwise be, and his logic is coming from his dick today. His brain would be screaming at him to not agitate the vampire that’s wounded and pissed.

He’s prodded at you the whole damn night so far, brushing your groin to grab a tool there’s fifteen more of scattered around that he can get to, angling his head in a way that makes the churning veins under too damn tempting, flat-out groping your ass when his first two tactics don’t get him anything more than warning hisses.

Except when he decides he doesn’t like a particular hiss you give, too much teeth for his liking, because when his hand drops from where it’s gotten in a squeeze it claps right back down across the ass cheek it grabbed. Fucking hard, too; "make peace, not war" your ass.

You whirl where he’s scrambling back to his side of the room, giggling, hands raised with his palms out like he can call a truce. Like he hasn’t been doing this shit all night and your hisses and menaced fangs are supposed to be equals, or something.

Well, they aren’t. And you feel like cashing in some payback.

"C’mon, baby, lighten up!" trails his getaway while you give chase. You don’t run after him, but Josh stumbles and darts around like you are. It’s one of the oldest hunting tactics, just following, while the prey tires itself out trying to get away. Vampires don’t need to use it, you could just as easily catch up, even with a bandaged arm.

But Josh wants to goddamn play, so you’ll follow suit. For now.

Smoker’s lungs, stoner’s, don’t let him keep it up as long as a guy his age could. Josh staggers, stumbles a last time like his clothes weigh fifty pounds, and drops on the steps up to another part of the workshop. By his couch and TV, the little nest he’s made for himself, and you don’t think that’s accidental; but you don’t plan to move things to that shitty couch, not anytime soon.

You walk right up to him, and Josh goddamn grins, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs like he’s offering himself up like a damn meal. He’s still got one of those shitty donuts, and he takes a bite, still grinning, and flicks a crumb at your leg.

"You’re a child," you growl, getting a whiff of syrup lactic acids, probably burning his calves like battery; iron thumped in and out of his heart, jumping in his throat, flushing his face; that damn weed turning everything earthy, chalky like loam, but still good.

"I’m a delight," spews more crumbs with another giggle. "Besides, baby, you love it."

You do—when you aren’t pissed at him. "Love to kick your ass," you huff, toeing the step by his foot.

His hum makes you swallow. Fucking thirsty, you are, and that’s just the worst kind of trifecta for Josh to be near right now: starved, pissed, and wounded. Your nerves are shot, and his chase didn’t tire you, but it sure as shit reminded you of what hunts are supposed to take care of. And his hum, that sounds vaguely like a dying, helpless churr from a punctured throat...

Shit.

But the hum bubbles into a chuckle, as you’re stepping away to beat it and get back to work—so Blade doesn’t have you to stake and Josh to mend, or a drained corpse to bury—when you get a lazy kick to your calf and a teasing, "The little fruit bat running away? Afraid I’ll smack him again?"

You’re starving, agitated, and your arm throbs. It’s not a nickname you hate, but it sets off something.

You stop, turn back slowly, and flick your eyes to either side to make sure you won’t be skewered by stray junk out of place. All clear, so you skulk up, schooling your face into a careful, bland look that puts Josh on edge more than a scowl.

"Ain’t my ass about to get smacked, boy," is throttled with a snap of fangs and a low pounce, and Josh can only drop the fucking donut and yelp as you tackle him.

He gets a bit of ground, because his hand clamps right down on the bandages, making you bark at the bolt of pain. It’s been longer since your last drink than you admitted to Blade, before he left, and that doesn’t help. But Blade would’ve had you come with, otherwise, and you figured dealing with Josh was worth getting the panels for the van closer to field testing.

Because as much as you want to skitter up the wall and drop Josh from the rafters, most days, you don’t want to get back to the van and find a drained, stoner-sized juice box.

So it’s a little ironic that he’s sprawled over your legs, when the scuffle’s over. It’s not what you intended—to pin him to his stomach, straddle, and give a few smacks before letting him go—but you sort yourselves out. First Josh, and you wrap an arm over his waist to keep him down; then yourself, and you sit up properly so his ass is right where you want it.

These days, child rearing isn’t what you were accustomed to, and Josh doesn’t figure it out until he feels your hand settle across the seat of his cargo pants. "No fuckin’ way," is half telling, half laughing, and the weed probably has something to do with that second part.

Because the first part’s not amused, but just in case he doesn’t get it across that he’s not thrilled to be pinned this way, Josh starts trying to buck off your lap.

"Yes fucking way," you hiss, and your hand cracks down over his right cheek.

It’s loud, even for his human hearing, and goes off like a shotgun blast. Josh twists his head back, huffing. The scowl he tries to give doesn’t have the kind of impact he hopes for, when it twitches at the second swat you land, right over the same spot. Harder than the first, because you won’t have him scowling at you, goddamn brat.

"Hope you know how to sleep with one eye open," cracks when you get a handful of flesh, quieter when he hangs his head. The pants are thin, and you feel the warmth from the swats, hell, hear the blood fizz under the surface. "Get you back for this."

You frown, not at the threat, but another rush of blood you hear. Feel, even better, in your lap.

You growl and throw a withering look his way, because fucking seriously? "You gettin’ hardover this?"

You hear the bones grind, Josh gritting his teeth, when you give the spot you’ve hit twice now a slow rub. Christ, he is, and he’s halfway there by the time you’ve rubbed enough circles into the warmed skin that you have to strain to hear the fizzing blood. You should’ve guessed he was into this, not like he doesn’t rile you up to pin or chase him anyway, this even makes sense.

The swipe to his left thigh is sudden, vampire speed but not strength because you aren’t that cruel. Your ears perk at the sound it gets, when the crack settles again, but before you can ask if he’s fine you feel his thigh rise up into your hand. You can’t help but scoff, because Christ’s sake, you weren’t trying to get frisky with him—and that ship’s goddamn sailed, because you’re helping him get hard.

You’re getting hard, too, can’t be a hypocrite about that. Josh feels it, pushing up into his side, and when he twists his head back again he’s flushed and his mouth’s open. His eyes are glazed over, brow’s furrowed, you think, but it’s hard to tell with the mop of hair in the way. Dammit,and you get a handful of his shirt in your striking hand to keep him from toppling over, and unwrap the other to push the hair off his face.

You can hear his sigh just fine, but it thrums into your fingers where you keep them pushed into his scalp, warm, damp from work and running from you. "Done already, baby? Maybe we can switch," buzzes up your arm.

Shit. You aren’t excited for that, because if he’s going to get you back he’s damn well working for it. But you can feel him reacting to you, swamping your senses; a whine when your fingers curl in the bangs before combing out, his hips shimmying when your arm loops over again, the muscles of his hide clenching as you drag down his pants and boxers.

That last one gets a sharp breath that’s followed up with a sharper swat. You suck in a gasp yourself and tighten your arm, giving your hard-on friction to grind off of, as you run your fingertips over the barely-pink skin. Warm, hot, without the fabric, and it fizzles louder like damn fireworks, when you drop your palm over the left cheek.

"Baby? Not getting any, uh, urges? Know I look good ‘nough to eat normally, but—"

"Shut up," you snarl, and then you’re smacking him again.

It’s anger at this bullshit, your injury, your arm throbbing as Josh twitches against the hold you just double down on when you start laying down swats quick and hard. He could’ve killed you, and he was too damn high to realize it, to apologize, still hasn’t.

But it’s some twisted fascination, too, watching the barely-pink go hot pink, white in the beat after a blow before it blooms darker, then red. You hear the blood fizz, pop, and simmer with each shade the flesh darkens to. Ass goes slower than the thighs, more meat to them, and that reminds you that there’s something to grab so you do. Not after every swat, just to give you both a breather, and you groan when you peel your hand off each time and a five-fingered print flares white before reddening again.

"Hope you choke on those damn donuts," you groan, throaty, when you realize your aim goes off because Josh is rutting into your damn lap. "Quit moving, lemme."

He goes rigid when you grab a hot thigh and spread him open, shift him right so his cock isn’t snug against your leg, and start to stroke. Cruelly slow, but it’s not like he’s getting out of this without some discipline. But you wouldn’t exactly mind doing this again, either...

"No one’s dead, then?"

Josh yelps and finally does buck off your lap. You let him, falling in a heap with his pants still down to his knees, because you’re too busy cringing back from the circle of UV light pointed at the floor. On concrete, not too close to the steps, but you’ve had enough of that wicked light as it is.

Blade doesn’t look bothered by Josh’s undressed, red ass, or the wet spot he left on your jeans. Neither of you finished, just pre-cum, but you’re not keeping a nose or ear out to scent or hear if Josh does by accident in the scramble. You’ve got something else on your mind, that wicks away the lust and anger and drags hunger up your throat so fast you’re dizzy.

The IV bag’s tossed to you, torn into and drained in the time it takes Blade to fish out another from his bag. You hear the flashlight go off and pounce out onto concrete to burrow into the second one he gives over, then growl for the third you can smell when he doesn’t offer it.

"There a problem?"

Your growl sputters, and Josh must’ve gotten his pants back up because he draws attention to himself now. "All good, B. Just looking for some shit for the panels."

Blade doesn’t ask what shit required Josh’s nose being two inches from the lowest step, or being over your lap while he looked, but you go deaf to what they do talk about when the third bag’s thrown your way. By the time you finish, wiggling the puncture marks over your yawning mouth to get the last drop, Blade’s gone and Josh’s face wrinkles.

"Oh, now you don’t want to bother me?" you purr, all fangs, your arm hardly aching and your throat good and wet.

"Shit, dude, would table manners kill you?"

You purr louder, a chuckle, as Josh turns away and goes to hide on his couch with his TV. Close to dawn, anyway, and it’s better to have two pairs of hands for the panels. At least that’s what Josh will tell Blade, probably, if he asks why he isn’t working on it in the morning when you’re sleeping. You’re betting on Blade either calling him out, saying a sore ass doesn’t mean a day off, or just letting it slide. He’s not stranger to vampire strength, even if it’s never been applied to his ass.

Well, Josh can tell him all about it, and you wipe the blood off your face, purr throttling in a real laugh, as Josh decides to lay down on his stomach while he fumbles with the TV.

"Gonna get you back," he reminds you.

In the dim, barely-lit room, with just some cartoon to flick pale tones over the dark space, you lurk over and crawl up onto the back of the couch, balancing on your side, so you can lick your fingers clean and run them through his hair. You tune out the shitty TV to hone in on his blood, calming down, still sputtering around his warm ass. It’s white noise you lose yourself in, purring at his swears when he shifts and agitates the flesh.

[tngrace]

Oooooo i could throttle that boy. Jake you are a dumbass ... said lovingly bc Grace tells him that a lot until he gets his head out of his ass.

Let me hug Alana damn it

Dagger Spare’s Ghost Story

{ An AU fic for Hangman x Cinco }

Alana knew the moment that Maverick announced Baylie and Javy as team leader and Dagger 2, respectively, that Jake would lose his temper. She had sat in on the long, and seemingly endless, meetings with the Admirals and Captains to determine who would be selected. 

She cared for each member of the Top Gun class. They all had proven to be friends to her over the last year. However, her secret relationship with Jake meant she knew him a bit better than the other students did. She didn’t deny that he was a great pilot. He had demonstrated time and again that he knew how to fly and how to do so dangerously. 

However, Alana also knew that he wasn’t the best at being a team player. There was no way she or the Admirals would agree to make him Team Leader. She also knew to prepare for his reaction after the announcement was made to them.

“What the hell!? Did you even try to get me recommended!?” 

“I need you to calm down and lower your voice, Jake.”

“I’m the best pilot and I’m a fucking spare…? What the hell have I been sleeping with you for?”

“Lieutenant! That is enough! I am still your superior. Now get out of my office before either one says anything else we may regret.”

Jake just stays staring at her. “Our little thing… We’re done.”

“That’s fine Lieutenant. I always knew it would never go anywhere. Now please leave.”

Bradley had heard Jake yelling and was listening in by the door and scurried away when he heard Jake opening the door.

Alana doesn’t let herself cry. There were no feelings involved. All they were was just sex. But his words stuck and stung. ‘What the hell have I been sleeping with you for?’ At least now she truly knew how he saw her and their… relationship.

Alana continues her day with her office door closed. She only leaves to get something to eat. She never was one really to make friends easily with others so she often kept to herself.

To get to her car to leave the base for lunch, she had to pass by the men’s locker room. Unfortunately for her, the door was open and Jake was still angry and loud. “She’s a fucking bitch. It was just a few pity fucks to get her to recommend me. Not that I would ever really settle down with anyone like her.”

Alana turned to look towards the door, only to find him and a few of the other officers exiting the locker room. She kept her cool and composure as he pushed past her and none of the officers saluted or acknowledged her presence. She kept her head held high as she walked the rest of the way to her car.

As soon as she made it to her car, she allowed herself a few minutes to cry. She then wiped away her tears and went for her food. 

Arriving back at the base, Alana went to get coffee from the rec room, only to once again find Jake there still complaining.

“Oh my goodness, Seresin, do you ever shut up?” Baylie asked. 

“Who the hell did you fuck to get picked?” He yells back at her.

“You’re the one sleeping with people in higher ranks trying to get that lead position,” Bradley says in frustration.

Nobody in the room had seen or heard Alana come in until she spilled the hot coffee on her hand and yelped. She puts the coffee pot back and runs her hand until cold water. 

“Just fucking great. You’re here to tell us we’ve been replaced? You probably slept with Cyclone or Mav to pick idiots to be the team leaders!”

Javy stood up in front of Jake and gave him a shove. “That’s enough man! Sit down and shut up.”

The whole Dagger Squad was there and they put two and two together, based on Bradley’s earlier comment to Jake. 

Alana just shakes her head and leaves. Her coffee and lunch - forgotten and left behind. She locks herself in her office and finishes running the reports for the mission. She then works on her request for transfer. 

Later that evening, the Daggers all met up at the bar to discuss what happened earlier.

“Does anybody really know who she is?” Bradley asks.

“She’s Cyclone’s right hand man,” Phoenix replies. “A quiet girl like Bob.”

Grace brings them their drinks and sits on Rooster’s lap. “What’s the latest gossip?”

“Jerk Jake caused a scene at the base and, according to Bradley, broke it off with his girl… Who he was only sleeping with to get the team leader,” Baylie says after downing her drink. 

“Oof. That’s terrible!” Grace comments. 

“Yeah I felt bad for her. She seems like a tough cookie but that his words did more damage than any of us can really tell.”

Meanwhile, Jake is drowning his sorrows at the bar. He picks up his phone to call her for a hookup that night. “Hi. You’ve reached Alana. I can’t answer your call now but please leave a message or text me.”

“Hey don’t ignore or block me… Call me back sweet face.”

Alana spots him across the bar as she feels her phone ring. She would love nothing more than to block him but because of the upcoming mission she can’t. So she pays for her drink and goes to sit next to Jake.

“Let me just say this Jake: I never expected or wanted to have anything serious with you. I knew our roles. Just fuck buddies. Not even friends. But I am still your superior. So I expect that respect on base. Outside of the base, don’t worry. I won’t chase you. I won’t call you. It’ll be like we never fucked.” She discreetly leaves next to his hand the key to his apartment that he gave her for their fuck sessions.

Alana waves at Penny as she leaves.

It’s not long after they’re all I’m the carrier and on the way to the mission. In the days prior, Jake kept trying to talk to Alana, but he always found her deep in her work or having the rest of the Daggers interrupt him.

The day of the mission finally arrives and he’s called in after Lucky and Javy get shot down. After searching, they get called back for a search and rescue mission.

It takes some hours but they find them both. Everyone celebrates their return at the carrier. When Jake looks up to the tower, he finds Cyclone, Warlock, and Cinco all looking down at them in relief.

It’s then he notices Cyclone gives Cinco a folder and they salute each other. He then sees Cyclone give her a tight hug. He storms off to her office once he saw her leaving.

“So it was Cyclone you were fucking!?” 

“Lieutenant. I once told you that was none of your concern but since you refuse to believe me: Cyclone helped my grandfather raise me. He’s like an uncle to me. The closest thing I have to a father. This will be the last time ever I ask you to leave my office.”

“Think you can just ignore me?” 

“It’ll be much easier to not have you accusing me of derailing your naval career from Japan.” 

The days pass quickly and they arrive back stateside. Alana leaves for Japan as soon as she finishes packing.

Jake spends his evenings at the Hard Deck. He hears the most beautiful laugh he hasn’t heard in weeks and he turns to find Alana. Only when he finds the person laughing he sees that it wasn’t her. It was someone else. Carrie Underwood’s “Ghost Story” begins playing from the jukebox. 

That’s when he knew he lost the only person that made him a better pilot and a better person. 

--

🏷️ List: @bayisdying @callmemana @gracespicybradshaw @cycbaby @ladylanera @starlit-epiphany @breadsquash @askmarinaandothers @dragon-kazansky @callsignscupcake @novagreen04 @hisredheadedgoddess28

[heli0s-writes]

It Is Knowing*

HI THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. It’s been a wonderful ride. Here’s the last part of Bag of Tricks. It’s tender and smutty and stupid. All mistakes are my own.

Please stop reading if you are not over 18!

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

He’s terrified.

Suddenly he’s looking at you one way, and then in a flash, the same dumb grin you always give him— the crooked one on the cusp of an ill joke— turns bright white.

It goes brilliant like star fire and during a storm inside a standard-issued cabin hideout, Bucky thinks he must be losing his mind.

And maybe he’s been losing it for a few weeks now, but he’s done a great job dodging the reality of your confession so far. Doesn’t matter what you mumbled—cracked out on exhaustion and sleep-talking—because in the end, you’re his friend and you love him the same way you love everyone else: annoyingly. Nothing’s changed about that.

He hazards another glimpse.

“Help?” You ask from the table, angrily scratching out blocks of an attempted crossword puzzle.

Do it in pencil, he tried to warn earlier, but you only called him chickenshit because you’re—yep—annoying.  

“Foudre,” Bucky says carefully and you perk up at the sound of his voice. “It’s a… six-letter French word for thunder.” He clears his throat, gesturing toward the window splattered with rain.

“Oh-ho-ho,” you snort, “Smart boy, aren’t ya? FOO-DRUH.” An incredible bastardization of the term, and you sing around a chewed-up pen cap between your teeth. “My name’s Smart-Boy-Bucky and I know French, Russian, and Updog.”

“What the hell is Updog?”

Your face steels.

“Nothing much, how ‘bout you?”

And instead of going over there to kick your ass, all he can do is stare wordlessly as you break into a laugh—his entire body electric like a live wire.

-

He keeps telling himself there are only a few days before someone drops in to collect. He just needs a little bit of distance, some time alone to clear his head and get over this—thing.

But his brain feels like it’s melting while he waits, his stomach is probably developing an ulcer, and his heart is so fast and fierce that he can almost see the pulse in his sternum throbbing errantly.

Too many things are wrong. You’re his friend— and Bucky wants to throttle himself a little bit for ever letting you be his friend. You’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass and he doesn’t like that at all. You cry over animals and when he gets hurt because you’re an insufferable drama queen, too. He hates that. He does.

The sound of something enormous slamming on the ground makes him dash into the shared bedroom and—oh god, Bucky thinks he’s going to throw up.

First, the mattresses are on the floor.

Second, you’re. wearing. that. stupid. shirt.

The blue one. The one he used to love, hated for a bit, came back around to wearing, and now—yep, he officially hates it again.

“I think you’re too tall for the bunk.” You’re pushing the beds together, unaware of his clenched fists. “So if we sleep diagonally your feet won’t hang off—and can you believe it—” you point to the hem of cerulean brushing against your skin, “I packed three raincoats and no pajamas.”

At the sight of your creeping smile, Bucky loses it.

“Why are you going through my stuff?!” He shouts, gripping the doorframe with enough force to take the molding clear off. “Why are you touching my shit!?” And he probably sounds insane, flying off the handle like this, but he’s got a million grievances against you and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Mind your own fucking business!” He’s still unloading, unreasonably frantic at the sight of that terrible color hanging from your shoulders.

Bewildered, you plop down clumsily on your knees, gawking like a deer in the headlights.

Your bare legs, your fingertips on your thighs, the thin sleeves oversized and loose on your forearms, that smear of toothpaste on the collar, the hollow of your throat taut from holding your breath—it makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you dizzy.

It makes him want to touch you. It makes him want you.

He’s sick. He’s dying. He’s so, so fucked.

“What…” Bucky quietly trails off, gasping helplessly as realization sinks in, “…what the hell is wrong with you...”

“Me?!” You shriek back, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m over here worried about your crusty feet hanging off at night and you just swing in and take a dump on me?”

Bucky groans, miserable and guilty. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “Shit. I’m—I don’t know.”

“Eat my ass, dude!” you sneer, already tucked under the blankets. “I’m going to sleep. Turn off the fucking light you’re going to stand there looking like a dumbass.”

A feeble sigh as Bucky pushes his hands into his face, gripping his hair, pulling his own head back until he’s glaring at the ceiling, listening to the patter on the roof.

“You’re the dumbass,” he whispers.

You’re the dumbass with the emotional regulation problem. The idiot with the temper. The head full of sawdust. But, if it only took three careless words from your blundering mouth to make Bucky fall entirely apart, you must be right after all. He is the dumbass.

He feels split open like the sky—torn up completely, unable to make out anything in his own turbulence.

Fuck.

The sheets shift until he hears them slide off. Then, a pattern of bare feet across hardwood. He must look disastrous in the doorway, bent out of shape in uncharacteristic disarray.

“What is going on with you?” You find his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrists, tugging until they peel off his wretched face. “Why are you so upset? I wear your clothes all the time; I’m always in your stuff.”

He chuckles defeatedly because you really are always in his space. Throwing yourself into in his room. Eating chips in his bed. Squirreling away in his brain. Everywhere. Always.

Bucky presses his lips into a thin line, grimacing as he looks at you. Wordless and vulnerable, he can feel his brow sinking lower, throat narrowing around a swallow as he attempts to fix himself. A stutter falls out, then another, crackling syllables like surfacing thunder but never quite forming a sentence.

The earth groans, shaking the cabin and his precarious soul.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like—”

And then, under a streak of lightning, recognition splits across your face.

“Don’t,” he pleads to the silence, “Don’t say it.”

The seconds stretch into horrible eons of slow passing time. You tilt your head this way and that, eyes going from his face to his hands, limp at his side with your own fingers still grasping on.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you say gently, “You’re—my best friend.”

Bucky shuts his eyes. “I know. I’m not trying—"

“Bucky,” you interrupt, faster now. “Bucky,” suddenly elated and laughing. “Bucky—shut up.”

And then the entire room bursts into flames. Your lips are searing hot against his— plump and eager, leaving scorching trails everywhere they touch, and Bucky burns up like a solar flare trying to catch his breath.

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, kissing him again. His cheeks, his jaw, his chin. “A real idiot.”

He’s terrified and dizzy, fumbling with a million possible outcomes and failing painfully each time. Relationships never quite work out for him; he’s dated a few girls and liked them a lot, too, but they’ve never turned out how he wanted them to. And this one—this one, he really can’t fuck up.

He’s got a bad track record, and with you, never knowing is much better than losing.

“Hey, you’re going crazy in there. I can hear it.” A sweet smile as your lips hover over his. The sweetest your face as ever looked. “Stop thinking, Bucky. Kiss me.”

Your lashes are so long and pretty. The dip of your cupid’s bow, a shape he adores. Even the tiny scar on your neck and the way your hair moves— wispy strands framing your face. Sounds of happiness tumbling out, hand firmly inside of his.

“It’s just me.” Joyful. Comfortable. “You know me.”

Your eyes glimmer—a familiar color calling him home.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do.”

Steve was the more competent linguist in their old days. Rolling French r’s, dropping ending consonants, silky smooth in pronunciation. Bucky’s tongue had always been more supplant to the Eastern European languages but, he knows enough of French—remembers enough from the war to recognize this:

Coup de foudre.

It’s the thing romantics exalt, the thing that half-strikes him now. The thunderbolt.

Love at first sight, even though it’s not quite first sight at all.

It’s not infatuated or starry-eyed. Not blind. Not feeling.

It is knowing.

And yeah, Bucky watches the way you pull him to the floor, euphoric and aglow, Jesus H. Christ, he knows.

This is it for him: your chaos, your entropy, your impulse. Your lack of personal space and foresight and good fucking sense. But—your kindness, too. Your care. Your heart.

Calm and patient as you settle down into his lap, the warm weight of you seems to be the only thing keeping him on earth.

“Can I touch you?” You ask shyly.

His voice is barely audible, hands unsure of where to rest, heart swollen in his throat.

Bucky flushes, and in the split second of your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, he tells himself do it, you coward, just fucking do it—and god help him, he does.

He presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collar and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs and instinctively pulling everything off.

You’re both surprised and excited, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too.

His shirt gets flung behind your back. Both pants disappear somewhere else. One hand goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

Bucky stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

He feels perfect in your hands. A silly grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and glide yourself over his length, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Bucky begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s unquestionably powerless.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Buck.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Bucky holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second--"

Using the position you’re already in, he lifts you up and brings you back down, a bit at a time until you’re landing on his hand with a gasp. He uses his fist as a stopper, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Thor?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a hook up. One time—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Bucky wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking on top, tipping him backward into the cushions, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Bucky, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck. 

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Bucky could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

-

It’s rougher in the morning. In the shower, soaking together. Faster.

On the couch, next. With him asking you to put your hand here, move your leg there.

He wants to learn everything you like, too.

You eagerly change positions, giggling when your knee slips and you pitch forward onto his chest. The two of you take a moment to compose yourselves, pinching each other, kissing in-between. He commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you. The way everything moves easy and wonderful, sometimes lazy, sometimes harried, but always fun.

Yelping when you bite too hard. Biting you back even harder. Positions neither of you have surprisingly tried before, but why not start?

Cursing. So much cursing. A lot of it good—fuck me, yes, more, don’t stop—but truthfully, most of it stays about the same.

Barnes, you got a juicy ass.

Will you shut up!

And he never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or if maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Bucky’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the front door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Sam swings it open and Bucky is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” Sam hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Sam!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a sweater, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Bucky is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers again, “Oh… my god.” He sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” he hisses, before screaming, “Oh hell no! I’m here picking y’all asses up. Landed the damn jet like two miles away, walked my happy ass through the rain— you butt-ass-naked in here—” He stands ram-rod straight, hands on his hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on y’all.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Sam!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m wet! And well— you wet too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Sam snickers, high-fiving himself before crossing his arms, “Really though, believe me when I say this for everybody who’s ever met you two: finally. Now get y’all freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Barnes’ dick.”

You pat him on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Sam dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Bucky locks the door to a now silent cabin, damp with sweat and the smell of earth. It’s torrential still, two days bucketing and the ground is so wet mud goes up to his ankles. Luckily, and he wants to laugh at that, you packed two extra raincoats.

Thunderclaps shake the very ground he stands on. Bucky turns to look at you, marveling when electricity bounces off your eyes, lighting up your face. He reaches over.

A squeeze to your hand that says I’m yours.

One more, tighter. I love you.

You slot your fingers between his. I know.

You smile at the next streak in the sky. Me too.

[sorryimanon]

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending  quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

-

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state. 

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before  draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

[heyybrittannia]

Reminiscence - First Tempo

A/N: Hey, ya’ll! Been a while since my last posting. Proud to say this is my first foray into the rabid Haikyuu fandom, and it’s an Ukai angsty-fluff fest. So glad to announce that this fic has been brought to you by the Haikyuu HQ SFW Collab! Do check them out. This month’s theme was Amnesia~! Look out for Second Tempo on my secondary blog or DM me for the link.

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“Miss? Miss, are you okay?” 

“Shit! I didn’t mean to--!” You woke to a sea of faces swimming into view and a cacophony of voices and rubber squeaking toward your downed direction. Head throbbing and body aching, you groaned as you tried to sit up, only to find you couldn’t. A wince tore through you as your back hit the smooth, polished gym floor. Sneakers squeaked as more people rushed over to peek in on the aftermath of what you assumed was a wayward serve. “Oi, nothing to see here. Get back in formation and run that second drill. Ingrates,” a gruff, older voice drew closer. Blinking up into the rafters of the gym, another face came into your line of sight. Older, weathered with age and tanned with decades in the sun, the coach knelt beside your head, blocking your view of the ceiling. “Give her some air. That was some hit you took.” “Y-yeah...didn’t see it coming.” He rested a firm hand on your back as you sat up, head spinning. The old man grinned and clapped you on the back, almost knocking the wind out of your smaller frame. 

“Hopefully the other team agrees. Can you stand?” Nodding, you took his arm and rose to your feet. Unsteadily, you gave the old coach a small grin and took a moment to gather your thoughts. He returned it in kind and then glared at the bench. “Keishin!” he barked. A boy with sharp eyes and a shaved head jolted up from his conversation with who you assumed was the team advisor and looked over in your direction. You couldn’t place why, but for some reason your heart rate picked up when he locked eyes with yours. The old man gestured for Keishin to come over and you hung your head to hide the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“‘Sup, gramps?” 

“It’s not like you’re doing anything. Make sure she gets home okay.” The player knelt down to gather your things and let out a small huff of irritation. The old man gave you a knowing smile and returned to barking orders and veiled encouragement to his team. Keishin ushered you from the practice gym with a roll of his eyes. “How fucking stupid can you be?” His gruff words confused you, left you caught between your own irritation and something akin to heartache. “I don’t know what you mean…” you replied softly, gathering your books to your chest. It wasn’t your first experience with Keishin Ukai, or his terse persona. You shared some classes together after your transfer to Karasano, but his mind always seemed to be stuck on volleyball. Part of you admired that one-track focus, but he always left you wondering if there was more to him. 

“Dumbass, the court isn’t for little girls.” You scowled and scoffed at his words, your own volleyball gear tucked discreetly away into the bag the younger Ukai had slung over his shoulder.

“I...I was dropping off a book for Shimada.” He scoffed at your reply and continued to lead you down the block. It wasn’t like Miyagi was a big prefecture, but your head throbbed and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on with the impending sundown. You two cleared another two blocks before he stopped and ground his teeth with a low growl. “What’s the matter?” “...Where do you live?” You had been content to let him lead you through the streets, oblivious to the idea that he didn’t actually know you or your life. A soft giggle left your lips and for a moment, Keishin looked like he was either going to throttle you or run away. “Another block, Ukai...you’re young Ukai, yeah?” He grunted and continued to lead you down the street, your bags slung over his shoulder. “If you’re asking if the old man is a relation, he’s my grandfather.” “It must be hard to live up to that,” you murmured thoughtfully, holding your books close to your chest. “It’s like a legacy thing, right? I mean, even outside of Miyagi the Old Crow is a legend, brutal as his methods are…" “Legacy...sure.” It was your turn to lead as you rounded the corner to your apartment building. You tucked your hair behind your ear and offered a small smile. You held out your hand to take your bag from him and he scowled at you, almost as if he was still contemplating your words. You turned away from him and fumbled for your keys. His hand lingered over your shoulder as you turned the key in the lock, mouth slightly open as if the words were waiting to come out…But they never did. You mumbled your thanks, cheeks a gentle pink as you waved goodbye, a wave he returned with a hesitant hand. The door shut between you and the audible click of the deadbolt sliding into place removed you from his presence, leaving him to simmer in his thoughts on his way back to his grandfather’s. He was a setter, strategic, constantly thinking, but with two sentences you had him reeling. Sure, he’d see you at school in some bullshit class he couldn’t care less about. Sure, you’d probably show up at the family store with your friends. Would it even matter? Would you be willing to pick up the one-sided conversation again? Would you grace him with the casual lilt of your voice or those tiny smiles you seemed more than willing to part with when he was around? Under the orange glow of the streetlights he trudged home, scowl growing darker the longer he thought about how you’d be just another face to forget. He had the game, his team to pour himself into, and you would be just another distraction. When he finally made it home, he crept up the stairs to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed with a groan. He didn’t want to admit that your dazed expression was the last thing on his mind before he eventually drifted to sleep. 

+++++

The shrill chirping of the game whistle broke him from his trance. Fatigue leached into his limbs and left Keishin feeling like he belonged on the bench instead of navigating his team to victory. Those early morning drills the old man had him running before the match as penance for missing practices were brutal. It was the end of the first set, and despite it being a scrimmage match against Nekoma the pressure was on to stay sharp. Old Ukai stood on the sidelines, those same sharp eyes constantly analyzing and adjusting the strategy as the match unfolded despite the near constant jeers from the opposing coach. The turnout for the match was modest considering the rivalry between the schools had been going on for well over a decade. You sidled into the stands with a member from the Karasuno girl’s volleyball team, eyes alight with the energy of the match. This was what you missed, what you thought you’d lose when you transferred schools to the all girl’s academy- the undercurrent of animosity between teams, the excitement of competition. As you scanned the court, your friend giggled at the sight of the tall, muscular wing spiker from Nekoma wiping the sweat from his eyes with his shirt, allowing them a peek of the defined muscles rippling just beneath his red cotton t-shirt. “He’s pretty cute, don’t you think, Y/n?” 

You made a noncommittal noise and continued to scan the court. The whistle blew again, signaling a time-out for Karasuno. The sudden halt in the game drew your attention to the gruff old coach and the shaved head of the younger Ukai. You couldn't quite make out what was said, but your eyes were glued to the bright white number two emblazoned on his back as he made his way onto the court holding his card. “Strange they’re calling him in. Think it’ll change things?” You tore away from his back and pouted at your friend. “I mean...he’s a setter, but he’s not the setter, you know? They must be hurting if they’re calling the benchwarmer in.” You shook your head and returned your attention to the game, eyes resting intently on Keishin’s back as he waited for the play. Brow furrowed, you strained to capture the fleeting recognition as your eyes followed him for the start of the play. The serve from Nekoma was brutal, but dug out and received well by Karasuno. Ukai waited patiently for his moment, giving a short shout as the ball came into his zone. Your eyes remained fixed on him as he set the ball for his own team’s ace, securing another point with a quick attack spike that had you cheering. Hearing your voice echo through the gymnasium, Keishin looked up into the stands and watched with a blushing scowl at your cheering. His teammates congratulated him on a return to rhythm and began another play quickly, all the while he became acutely aware of your eyes on him as he played. Your friend seemed more amused at your reactions to the match than eating the eye candy on the court below. By the end of the match, she was convinced you already carried a torch for a certain bench warming setter. “Y’know...I hear the boys’ team is looking for a new team manager. You should ask Coach about it, Y/n.” “I don’t know, Keimi...Pretty sure the manager needs to go to the same school as the team. Besides, I was hoping I could get back into the game.” “And this would be perfect!” “As a player, Keimi! I don’t know the first thing about managing a boys’ team!” The other girl grinned and nudged you closer to the two Ukai men, waving as she left the gym. “Aah, um, hello, Coach?” “Eh? Oh, it’s you! Come to see the scrimmage?” His gruff voice lilted with the same spark of recognition, but he quietly kept it to himself. You lit up, excitedly recounting your favorite moments while the younger Ukai silently took down the net and moved the match equipment into the equipment storage room. The coach nodded, his sharp eyes resting on you as you settled down. He chuckled, a rare sound from the reaction Keishin gave when he returned to carry another box of match balls off the court. “I take it you know a fair bit about volleyball with that kind of commentary, miss.” His comment made you diminish, sinking back onto your heels as you nervously played with the hem of your jacket. “Ah, you could say that...I just wanted to tell the other setter that he played a really good game!” Your shyness seemed to endear you to Old Ukai that he offered you an even rarer smile. Another pang tore at your chest; was this something else you lost in your abrupt transfer? Did you know him from somewhere through the fog of your spotty memory. The brewing distress bubbling in your thoughts must have read through your wilting expression, but he didn’t draw attention to it. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. In your fretting you failed to notice the older man tracing the pink puckering of your skin along your hairline curving harshly in front of your ear. The shiny scar told him all he needed to know about your predicament. Your mother had become a client of his daughter-in-law’s and a sort of lifeline for Keishin during your sudden absence from your shared classes; it was a tragedy that the old man found hard to swallow.  “I’ll pass it on. Is there something else you wanted to say?” Your words caught in your throat as Ukai the younger crossed his arms over his chest and stood next to his grandfather. Under the harsh gaze of two generations of Ukai you floundered, fidgeting as you struggled to get the words out. It was almost too much to bear, having the nostalgia resonate without any true justification. Finally you shook your head and gave a small smile. “I’ll see you around!” And with that, you jogged out of the gym. “What the hell was that about?” “Himewari’s girl was here. She caught the game. Said you played well. Don’t get a big head about it, kid.” Keishin blinked. A compliment? He couldn’t let himself hope that she’d remember everything, but your presence had to mean something. Shaking his head, he mumbled under his breath and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a slight twinge of pride-- you came back to watch his team, to watch him. More importantly, you got to watch him do more than warm the bench. His thoughts went back to the throwaway conversation you had about legacy almost a year ago and for a second he almost fooled himself into thinking you knew what you were talking about in passing. “I’ll see you at home, old man.” ++++ Years flew by, and with their passing you felt the weight of the changes that pulled you away from your youth. Your parents’ sudden split after your accident had you transfer to another school in another city with your father. Your mother stayed behind in Miyagi, the offer to come back and enjoy the stability you grew comfortable with before their eventual divorce always open. You thought it strange in your university days how Miyagi and your memories of it seemed distant, vague. Like they were just barely out of reach so you knew something was missed but you couldn’t quite place what. It wasn’t as if you didn’t completely lose those formative years; sometimes it was a feeling, a general sense of nostalgia when you stepped foot on the court, or when you caught the faint squeaking of shoe rubber on a laminated wood floor. It wasn’t until your mother got sick that you decided it was time to pick up your life and move back in with her. Finding a teaching job wouldn’t be too difficult. You viewed the transition as a chance to start off fresh. When you arrived in Miyagi, your cousins met you at the train station. The drive to your mother’s was awkward at best. Conversation attempts were met with half-hearted replies and years of apathy. It was a relief when your oldest cousin Miyuki pulled into the driveway. Your mother sat in the sunroom, patiently awaiting your arrival. “Mama,” you called, setting your bags down in the foyer. She let you wander the modest home until you found her calmly tending to her houseplants. She smiled warmly and in that moment you felt like maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad change. You rushed over to embrace her; she felt so much smaller in your arms than you remembered. She pushed you away to look up into your face, turning it left, then right. “You haven’t been eating enough, Y/n.” “Mama,” you sighed, pulling your head back. “I’m eating just fine. It’s hard when the kids have exams and training camps.” She leveled a deadpan glare at your diversion and wheeled herself out of the sun room and into the kitchen. “What? You know those kids are--” “They’re your life’s work. I know, Y/n. How can you expect to keep up with them when you’re lagging behind? Take care of yourself!” You blanched under your mother’s chiding. You knew she was right, and as much as it hurt for you to admit you were going to miss your students it wasn’t the time to dwell. As you chopped vegetables for dinner prep, your mother wheeled herself around in her wheelchair gathering spices and the rice cooker. “I...I think I have orientation tomorrow,” you murmured, tossing in your chopped spring onion and moving on to a large daikon radish. “I hope it goes well. I’d hate to get lost.” Your mother nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. Her expression was wistful, almost sad as you fretted over your new job. It had been almost a decade since the accident left you both in the hospital and changed everything. While you were lucky to be alive, the rest of the family had to wonder which one was luckier-- your mother lost the use of her legs, but you lost whole years. The silver scar along your hairline was the only reminder you had from that rainy evening when your world turned upside-down. “I don’t think you’ll get lost, Y/n. If you do, maybe you’ll find a handsome teacher to show you around!” Your cheeks flushed a deep red at the thought, withdrawing into yourself. “You aren’t getting any younger, you know...and I’d like to see my grandchildren before I’m too old to enjoy them!” “Mother!” you shrieked, cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. You barely had a handle on your life as a single adult, let alone adding a potential husband and child to the mix. The older woman hummed, carefully measuring out rice and stock for the meal, giving you a moment to collect yourself. Tomorrow would come sooner than you thought. 

++

“Here’s the faculty lounge. And this here is hallway B. Any questions so far?” You shook your head and followed the friendly face through the halls. “I’m Takeda, by the way. I teach Japanese literature.” His hand hovered between you, his smile disarming you for a moment before you reached to take it. “Y/n. I’m the new biology teacher. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded and continued to lead you out of the building to the gym complexes. Takeda opened the door to Gym 3 and invited you in; suddenly that familiar wave of nostalgia washed over you as the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Team ran their drills under the watchful eye of their coach and team manager but you couldn’t place why. It was a familiar rhythm, though the cadence of their team was still off somehow. Takeda ran over to the sidelines with the coach and you lingered by the bleachers, slowly making your way over. Distracted, your eyes fell on the impressive black banner hanging off the balcony but your legs continued to move. It was the last thing you remembered seeing before everything went black. “Nice going, your majesty.” “Shut up!” “Miss, are you okay?!” “Back it up. I said back off! Give her some air for fuck’s sake.” It was an all too familiar sight when you opened your eyes. Sharp eyes and bleach-blond hair swam into view with the worried faces of who you guessed were the players running their drills. Recognition flickered across the blond thug’s face and he chuckled darkly, helping you to your feet. “Funny seeing you here again.” His voice was a low, rasping growl, a sound you couldn’t place but hovered at the edge of memory.

“What do you mean again?” The question bubbled up without a second thought. Disappointment stung worse than outright rejection. “Have we met before..?”

Takeda rushed over and panicked as you rubbed your forehead with a soft moan. “Y/n, are you okay?!” You waved him off and nodded, searching the thug’s face for some kind of answer. “I see you’ve met Coach Ukai.” The blond’s hand lingered on your back a moment longer than you felt comfortable with, but his name sparked something- recognition maybe. “I thought Ukai was retired...and older,” you replied, earning a scowl from the blond coach. “Unless...no.” The coach scowled, arms crossed over his broad chest. “So you remember the old man but you forgot me?” “I know him by reputation. His coaching method was efficient if a little unorthodox.” Takeda stepped in, glancing nervously between the two of you like he was about to mediate a battle between a lion and a wolf. “But you...I don’t think we’ve ever met before.” “Kageyama, drop and give me twenty. The rest of you, run that new play again. Third tempo.” He brushed past you and Takeda, but you weren’t about to let it go. You followed him to the outside of the gym and watched him pull out an abused pack of cigarettes. There was an odd kind of practiced grace that he exuded as he lit the paper and inhaled fire into his lungs. “What?” “I’m...I’m sorry,” you murmured, shyly looking away. Your words only barely registered, a brow raise and low hum the only reply you received. “There’s these...lapses in my memory.” “Can’t say I’m surprised. You make it a habit of taking serves to the head?” That touched a nerve. Flustered, you jabbed a finger into his chest and glared. “I’ll have you know I was a great player!” He grinned, inhaling another drag and blowing the smoke from his nose like some kind of dragon.

“Doubtful. The court isn’t a place for little girls, Y/n.” “How...I never gave you my name, jerk.” “Didn’t need to. It’s hard to forget a face like yours.” “Ugh, your poor wife,” you groaned, turning back into the gym. Keishin scoffed and flicked the ash from his cigarette with mild amusement. Though it stung to see your doe eyes alight with excitement in his gym again, there was something that warmed him to the thought of you being closer again. He might have been a pig, but that wasn’t going to keep you from finishing your tour. Keishin watched as you retreated, your gray slacks hugging your hips perfectly as they swayed with every step. He chuckled with a shake of his head and finished his cigarette with another long drag. Curiously, he returned to find you giggling with Takeda and Shimizu. While he only caught part of the conversation, he had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. Daichi picked up and had the team running the same play, this time in second tempo to perfect the new quick attack. “...So like I was saying, it’d be great to have you help us out!” Takeda finished. You nodded thoughtfully, eyes wandering to the team as they ran their play. Shimizu nodded in agreement, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, you seem to have a strong sense of play,” he added sheepishly. “Definitely more of an idea than I did when I was asked to be a club advisor.” “Nope. We don’t need a little girl telling us how we need to be playing,” Ukai interjected. “Their formations are wrong. You can’t expect your upperclassmen to carry the team when you’re in a rebuild season. It’s irresponsible to think that you can attain victory while being so sloppy. It’s a disgrace to Ukai’s legacy.” He flinched at your words and unzipped his track jacket, throwing it onto the bench. “Big talk from such a little girl. You’ll eat those words.” The boys stopped their drill to watch the exchange. Nishinoya nudged Tanaka in the ribs and whispered loudly, “He’s not thinking what I think he’s thinking, is he?” Tanaka shrugged, unable to pull his attention away from the exchange as you kicked your heels off and pulled your hair back into a low pony-tail. Takeda stammered out something about a challenge being unnecessary, about how it was just an idea bringing you in as an assistant coach and that it shouldn’t be taken seriously but his pleading was ignored. The boys cleared the court, barring the three upperclassmen and the libero, grateful for the break and the show. You stretched, leaving your gray blazer on the bench with your heels. The feeling of polished wood under your bare feet had your fingers and toes tingling in anticipation. Daichi threw you the ball and you looked up quizzically. “House rules- visitor’s got first serve.” Sugawara nodded from his spot at the net while Asahi and Nishinoya waited on the opposite side with their coach. He grinned sadistically from his spot behind the net. “Good luck, little girl.” You bounced the ball once, twice, three times before falling into form behind the boundary line. Keishin waited for the inevitable serve, unaware of what he possibly was getting himself into...that is, until you threw the ball up in an unmistakable running jump serve. His eyes followed as your frame flew gracefully to meet the ball mid-air in a vicious driving serve. With the game in motion, you bounded back into formation, tracking the ball as the libero failed to dig your serve back to Keishin for a set. Stunned, Keishin let out a low growl and tossed the ball back over the net into Sugawara’s capable hands. “Lucky shot.” Daichi raised a brow with a grin. “Yeah! Betcha can’t do it again!” Noya chimed in. You caught the ball and bounced it again, taking your spot behind the service line. Once again, you flew to meet the ball in another near-flawless jump serve. Even Kageyama stood by, impressed by your form, the hangtime your body had before connecting with the ball. “It’s almost like she has wings,” Shimizu mused. Tanaka stood by, jaw slack, still stuck on the fact you were playing three-on-three in business casual dress. Noya dove to save your serve and Keishin adjusted to set up Asahi for a straight spike. Daichi dove to save, giving you a chance to dart into position when Suga readied his set. “Don’t hesitate!” you huffed, smiling brightly. This sensation, this indelible feeling of joy that came with playing the game had you feeling like it was the only thing that mattered. Your lost memories didn’t matter. The faces left forgotten didn’t matter. Nothing but the moment and the movement that came with perfecting the game, that was what truly mattered. Taking your direction, Sugawara tossed the ball daintily, allowing just enough air-time for you to meet it with another impressive jump. Your cross spike echoed as it connected with the floor, drowning out the grumbling of the head coach eating his words. Hinata whistled and jumped excitedly on the sidelines. “Looks like someone’s eating crow. That’s 2 and 0. Still think it’s just luck?”

With a huff, he glanced over at his three-man team and shook his head. “Fine, you’ve got some skill, but that doesn’t mean shit.” He threw the ball back over the net at you, scowl deepening. The match went on for another four sets before Ukai conceded. His sharp eyes watched your frame loosen up as you readied for another serve. The underclassmen on the sidelines watched with interest, especially Kageyama. The King of the Court analyzed your posture before you approached the line. He almost recognized the way your muscles coiled before the toss, how you crouched before throwing yourself into the jump to complete the serve. “Save it!” Asahi yelled, diving for the serve before it hit the floor. You wiped your brow and grinned at the coach sweetly, chest heaving slightly under your white collared blouse. You glowed as Daichi and Sugawara exchanged high-fives with you. With the color back in your cheeks and the smile you graced him with, Keishin Ukai stood stunned on three levels. How could you waltz back into his gym and not remember him? How could you come back and royally serve him on his home turf with his own team? How could you do it and look so breathtakingly stunning doing it? The boys gathered around and began drilling you with questions, each one more invasive than the last. “Where did you learn to do that?” “Yeah, you serve way better than Kageyama for sure!” “I take it you’ve played before?” “I take it you’re single?” Overwhelmed, you waved your hand and laughed, riding out the endorphin high. Takeda stepped in and handed you a towel and your shoes, dazed by your display of skill. Finally Keishin spoke up after shooing the boys away to the locker room. “C’mon. We’re leaving. Practice is over.” He pulled you by the arm and out of the gym with your shoes still in hand. “And you’re telling me more about where you learned to serve like that.” “Ah, I kind of need to get home…” you began, only to be silenced by his intense glare. “Or not. I guess I’ll tell them to not wait up?” He grunted with a nod and continued to lead you down the sunlit streets. The two of you must have looked odd, mismatched for a dinner date. Could you even call it a dinner date? He brought you to his own small flat, tilting his head inside the door for you to follow his lead. He rummaged through the fridge for something while you settled yourself at the table, legs tucked neatly under you. Greeted with the tinkling of glass bottles, he popped the top off his bottle and handed you the bottle opener, his eyes appraising you all the while. “So, where does a little girl learn to serve like that?” “I played through uni, but spent my second and third years of high school at Niiyama.” He chuckled. “Maybe I should call you little queen instead?” You sipped your beer and relaxed into your seat a little. He settled beside you and continued to watch as you made small little fidgeting movements, fussing with the pleats in your slacks, or how that one stubborn lock of hair wouldn’t stay tucked behind your ear. “So...what brought you back to Karasuno?” “My mother. She’s not well, and...I can’t just let her live by herself. It was easier for me to move out here than for her to come to me.” “And where were you before?” He took another sip, constantly appraising you. Did he dare tell you how he had been delivering your mother’s groceries and driving her to her appointments in your absence? Would it be worth seeing your reaction at this stage in the game? “I was a teacher at Shiratorizawa.” His eyes widened at that as he fumbled for his lighter. “I take it you did more than just teach there.” Your cheeks flushed and you looked down at your knees, holding the cold bottle against your legs. “I also coached the girl’s team until they found a full-time head coach for their rebuild season. The girls begged me to stay on as assistant coach. I couldn’t refuse.” You smiled fondly at the memory of your girls cheering and laughing during your last training camp with them. Your sudden shyness didn’t go unnoticed. “You know...your boys have a great foundation, but they lack refinement.” He shook his head and took a long drag from his cigarette, the tip burning bright red in the enclosed space. “You sound like the old man.” “You can’t bank everything on raw power alone. You need direction, finesse. Strategy. As a setter, as a coach you know this!” You sat in silence for a few moments after your outburst before he broke it with another sigh. “We don’t need another coach, little girl. But maybe...you could come help us with refining our younger players.” You grinned and nodded your head. “And maybe we’ll have a little rematch.” “Sure thing, Coach.” His heart skipped a beat, then two at your gentle teasing. This was comfortable, far more cozy than he would have expected your reintroduction would be. You eased back into his life as if you had never left or forgotten him or your almost-firsts from your years at Karasuno. Part of him wondered if you felt it, too. “Keishin. Call me Keishin.” Maybe forgetting your first meeting wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe a fresh start wouldn’t hurt, so long as he could keep it professional. One beer turned into two and you found yourself giggling into the table. Never one to handle your liquor, you hummed tunelessly while the blond watched. He slid in beside you and pulled your beer from your spot at the table, essentially cutting you off for the evening. You pouted sweetly at him and pushed your hair behind your ear again, his eyes following the motion of your fingers running through the dark hair. He caught the silver thread running the length of your hairline behind your left ear and stopped himself from asking the obvious question. “You want to ask about my scar. Figures a setter wouldn’t miss a detail like that,” you slurred with a giggle. “I don’t remember, but I’m told there was a car crash. Drunk driver, roll-over. My mom made it out worse than I did in the long run...but…” Your face grew somber, mind reaching for something just out of reach. “I have problems remembering anything that came before that accident, Keishin.” There it was-- the ghost of pain raking its cold fingers between you. Keishin took another swig from his beer and let the silence between you grow heavy until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Must have been pretty traumatic for you to forget.” You nodded numbly, smiling grimly. “They call it dissociative amnesia. I still get flickers, but...It’s like being trapped in a thick mist. And everything that came before being cut out of my mom’s car is on the other side, but...but I can’t…” Your eyes filled with frustrated tears as you struggled to get the words out. “Sorry,” you sniffled. Keishin rested his hand on your back, slowly rubbing small circles into the thin fabric of your collared shirt as you fought to collect your emotions. You leaned into his touch and rested your head into his shoulder letting the stray tears fall. Sensing his window was opening, he seized opportunity with both hands and pulled you closer, still rubbing those small circles into the small of your back. “I remember you used to come to every game when you were a Karasuno student.” A hiccup bubbled up from your chest and had you relaxing into his hand. “I remember thinking you were just there for the show, to stare at us guys on the court, but you kept proving me wrong.” He pulled you into the warmth of his arms, carefully gauging your reaction, and rested his chin on the top of your head as he continued. “You might not remember, but I definitely do.” “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

You felt his grin against your hair. “Like a steel trap, Y/n.” Keishin’s grin wavered as you settled into his warmth. He wanted to tell you how flustered he could make you with a look, or how you could get his heart racing when you screamed his name during his matches; you were always loudest when he came onto the court. In the back of his mind he wondered if maybe seeing the old man would help jog your memory. Would it even matter this late in the game? His fingertips danced gently against the seams of your blouse, his nose burying into the dark, silken waves of your hair. The slow, steady rhythm of your breaths tipped him off on your dozing. Your phone lit up with a text notification; it was Takeda. Jealousy was a hunger pang he hadn’t felt since he was a student. I.Takeda- Hey, Y/N! I wanted you to have the practice schedule just in case you changed your mind. :D See you soon!

It was stupid for him to be jealous. He was just a coworker, and one kind enough to show you around. It was harmless. Four-eyes was harmless. As you rested against his chest, a singular thought replayed on a loop in the back of his mind. “Maybe I’m taking this too fast for her.” You nuzzled into his warmth with a small, dopey grin and for a moment he swore he heard you sigh his name. For now it would be enough for him. He’d tuck your forgotten schoolgirl crush away carefully between sheets of rice paper. He’d remain cautiously optimistic that maybe you’d look at him with those same doe-eyes, that you’d give him the chance he didn’t give you before your world went black. You were weightless in his arms, unsurprising considering your size. Keishin carried you to his bedroom, carefully pulled your slacks off one leg at a time, and tucked you into his bed. He stood in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest before pulling out his own cell phone. The glow of the screen was a soft blue as he searched his contacts for a familiar surname. He let out a long sigh when the woman on the other end picked up, voice terse, frantic even. “Himewari, you can call off the search party. She’s here.” “Keishin, thank goodness! I was so afraid when she didn’t come home.” He winced, groaning in shame. “Yeah, that’s my fault. I...kinda twisted her arm into coming home with me. But she’s safe. Asleep, but safe.” “She just couldn’t stay away, could she?” The amusement playing in the older woman’s voice was painfully apparent. Fingers fumbled with the lighter as he clenched a cigarette between his lips. “Could have told me she was an ace, Himewari.” “And ruin the surprise? It broke her heart to leave her girls, Keishin.” “I can only imagine. Get some rest, Himewari. I’ll bring her back in the morning.” “Be careful with her, Keishin. And don’t forget my groceries Thursday.” 

~ 

Morning came too soon for the former setter. Sprawled out on the couch, still dressed in his tracksuit, he groaned out into the pale yellow light. His headband sat forgotten on the coffee table with another two empty bottles and a dingy ashtray. He cracked a tired, tawny eye open to find you humming and bouncing on the balls of your feet as you scoured the kitchen for mugs. He sat motionless on the couch for a few moments more until he heard your footfalls draw closer. He could smell it- the hot, welcoming bitterness of the dark roast swilling in the mugs you brought over. A small smile crept over his features before he could stop it. It felt right, you sashaying through the room, legs bare with coffee to share was something he could grow used to. It was the most recent sleepover you shared with him since you began working at Karasuno. Your workshops with the volleyball club ran later and later until Takeda was forced to shut the lights down and you would begrudgingly leave the game on the court. Dressed in one of Keishin’s oversized t-shirts, you pulled your hair to one shoulder and gently nudged him with a warm hand. “Keishin,” you whispered, smiling softly when he inhaled deeply. “C’mon, Keishin.” He woke and wrinkled his nose. “‘S’early, little girl.” “It’s nearly eleven. We’re going to be late for practice.” “I’m going to be late, little girl,” he sighed, gratefully taking a hot mug from your hand and scowling after he took a sip. “Shit, too fucking sweet,” he growled out. You stifled a giggle and shook your head, gesturing at the mug you had placed next to his cigarettes. “Coffee isn't supposed to be sweet, Y/n.” “It’s not for you, genius.” You stood up, rising to your full height and cocked one hip to the side, leveling him with a bemused smirk all your own. In a way, it all felt comfortable, like this was how life was supposed to be. Even with sleep weighing his features down he was handsome. His hair was spun gold glinting in a pale yellow-gray morning. The spark of his lighter and the plume of blue-gray smoke that followed only drew your gaze back to him, the casual curve of his spine as he huddled over his first of what you learned would be many cups and travel mugs worth of coffee to offset the hangover he no doubt was still feeling. “Why do you always take the couch, Keishin? Don’t trust yourself?” You leaned into him, the flash of collarbones and soft skin enticing, teasing him to reach out and brush those long fingers along the line of your chest under his t-shirt. “I...uh, we’re colleagues. Coaches, it wouldn’t be--” “I’m just teasing you, Keishin,” you giggled, brushing his cheek with your lips in an innocent peck. His cheeks betrayed him, flushing deep scarlet as you withdrew to the bedroom. He took a drag and shook his bedhead. “Besides!” you called out as you hurriedly dressed for your own day. “I’ve got a meeting with the vice principal about the girls’ team. Guess their coach left them in the lurch and someone let slip a few things from my resume.” You bounded out with your messenger bag and your heels in hand, dressed in a dark blue pencil skirt and pale gray quarter-sleeve blouse that set his blood on fire. “Want me to walk you?” You shook your head and flashed him an impish grin, one he had grown to love over the past months. “We’re both going to the same place, after all.” “I think I can manage, Keishin.” He furrowed his brow, reaching out to grab your hand to stop you as you pulled away from him. “Y/n, let me.” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “Let me walk you just to make sure you get there safely.” There it was again, that pang of unease ripping through him like a razor through wet paper, like if he let you walk out that door he’d never see you again. “Please,” he murmured, dropping his hand. His cigarette smoldered in his free hand to the filter, forgotten in lieu of your departure. You hesitated, eyes furiously searching his face for answers as he pouted back. “Fine. But hurry up. I can’t be late again, Keishin!” 

~

You bounced anxiously in your seat in the vice principal's office. The club advisor, a stern looking woman with her graying hair cut short sat beside you. "So, I hear you coached at Shiratorizawa."

"Um, yes. Assistant coach." You sunk a little under her imperious gaze and she cracked a smile. "You're in the math department."

"I am. It goes without saying that we need a coach. Be a shame for you to squander your skills." Nodding thoughtfully, you chewed on the inside of your cheek and let her finish. So they didn't know about your impromptu workshops with the boys' team. Silently you thanked Takeda for his discretion. 

"So, how about it? I think we could really give our third years a worthy send off with you at the helm."

You couldn't fight the smile if you tried. Taking her hand, you shook it firmly and breathlessly murmured, "When do we start?"

~

"RUN IT AGAIN!" Daichi roared from the back line, Suga serving the ball over the net, only to be received by Noya on the other side. Asahi watched on as Yamaguchi fumbled a block and Tsukishima scoffed at the loss. Ukai scratched the back of his neck as Shimizu made notes on her clipboard for you to review. She and Yachi appreciated having another female presence in the club, even if it was a clandestine partnership at best. "Come on, guys, where's the hustle?" 

"Himewara's not here," Takeda murmured thoughtfully. Ukai nodded absently and said nothing. "Sometimes I think the team plays better when she's around."

"Asahi, get in there and show Tsuki how it's done. Hinata, where's the focus?" Keishin snarled. Takeda shrank under his roar and sighed as Ennoshita missed another block. "Just because Himewari isn't here doesn't mean you can just dick around!" 

The attention in the gym was pulled to the opening of a door and suddenly all eyes were on you. Your chest was heaving, a smile lighting your features and making you seem years younger. It was the same look you had when you had a chance to play. 

"Hime-chan!" Noya hooted, bounding over only to be held back by Asahi by the tail of his shirt. "Lemme go, Asahi!" Your laugh carried through the gym like music on the wind as you jogged over, heels in hand to the coach and managers. 

"I got the job," you huffed breathlessly. Keishin's eyes widened. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room, the edges of his vision growing hazy. A sickening knot in the pit of his stomach twisted in on itself and it was hard to breathe around the nagging pang of angst. It was what you wanted, to be involved in the game again. Why couldn't you be involved in his? 

Takeda spoke first, hand resting supportively on the coach's shoulder. "That's great! Congratulations! I'm sure you'll be leading our Lady Crows to victory in no time!" 

"Guess that makes you the Queen Crow, right, Himewari?" Tanaka grinned. Hinata jumped for reciprocal joy, squealing about how he couldn't wait to watch you kick their counterpart team into shape to take the W. 

"What about our workshops, coach? We were just beginning to perfect that sneak attack with Hime-"

"Stop, stop, guys," you began, pushing the boys away as they closed in. "I'll still be around to help, but my team will have to come first." That one hurt- a wince flitted across Keishin's usually stoic face, an expression he had hoped you'd miss but he knew he wasn't slick or lucky enough for that. 

Did it mean that you'd stop coming around? No more impromptu sleepovers? No more dinner dates with Shimoda and the other alums? No more whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you snuggled into his pillows? The longer he thought on what your new position meant, the sicker he felt. Without another word, he brushed past the team and beelined for the door. 

"Michimiya's going to be excited to get started, Himewari," Daichi commented off handedly as you rose on your toes to see past the sea of bodies blocking Ukai's departure from view. 

"Excuse me," you sighed, following the same track set before you by the setter-turned coach. You found him in his usual spot, leaned against the brick and mortar on the far side of the gym, puffing away at another cigarette to calm his fraying nerves. "Keishin. Keishin, what's the matter?" 

Silence. 

Undeterred, you pushed on, grabbing him by the muscular forearm. "Keishin," you said firmly, eyes burning up at him with concern. "You can't tell me you didn't see this coming…

"This is huge, Keishin. We can both lead our teams to victory without being rivals. Keishin, say something!"

He continued to blow smoke into the midday sky wordlessly. His mind raced, fitfully searching for a rationale behind the sudden surge of emotion he felt. He should be proud, but he only felt threatened. What was he going to be to you after today? Would he just be another face? Would you forget him again? 

"I won't be just another forgotten memory again," he murmured, more to himself than his audience. You pulled on his black sleeves and frowned up at him, repeating his name as if it would pull him back to you. 

His lips tasted like smoke and salt, the flash of hair and skin that followed, the tangle of fingers through raven hair and the sensation of all the air forcing from your lungs made you dizzy. Keishin gave a gentle tug of your lower lip with his teeth and pulled your head back by the hair, baring that delicate throat to his wandering mouth. 

"I won't be forgotten, little girl," he growled, the rumbling of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Be mine and earn your wings, little girl." The drag of his teeth along your neck sent you into a frenzy. "Or just be mine." 

Whimpering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and fell into his advances. It was always him; his face was always the one just out of reach when you'd struggle to remember your life before the accident. There was never another after and there never would be. 

[maroonangels]

god okay wip list (in no particular order) also ignore that every single one of these is spider centric in one way or another. we’re not gonna talk about that

Spence — angsty spider family, brief spider & sasha, missy/spider, harper’s their third wheel and possibly their third partner depending on where I take it, spiders sister is fkn dead, he’s a mess, also his family is big asf

Arachne — spider/malakai, ftm spider, obligatory pregnancy fic, uncle dusty and he’s actually great, fucking messyyy ass timeline, also spider doesn’t tell malakai it’s his kid til she’s already born cause he’s a dumbass

But if it kills me, I tried — pure angst, dead dove do not eat, non con, spider/malakai (they’re fully consensual ofc), might actually be posting the first bit of this one soon 👀

crying — smut, amerie/spider, he cries during sex and that’s the entire fic

predictable — missy/spider, smut, sasha bashing, fuckin messy

hate to be lame but I might I love you — trans fem spider, spider/dusty, angstyyy, but also romance, long asf & still not done

cool girl — another trans fem spider fic, she’s a stripper and it’s a whole thing, eventually spider/malakai

we’ll make it out alive — amerie/spider, ANGST, sh & abuse, gore, they’re actually insane and everyone is concerned but them, they think they’re normal (they need to be sectioned /hj)

night terrors — obligatory supernatural fic, spiders fighting monsters at night, also angst between him & dusty *falls to my knees* those fuckin boys- oh and amerie/spider undertones

knee socks — yet another trans fem spider fic, spider/malakai, she’s drunk & he’s finding out wayyyy too many secrets for his liking, lowkey slutty

hits different — spider/malakai, basketball fic, god is this sappy as shittttt, malakai is whipped & spider is oblivious

smoking kills y’know — more spider/malakai, long fic, spider smokes and malakai folds, angsty but also not, quinni puts spider in glitter & he has a panic attack about it

or christ, hold me like a knife — harper/spider, angsty, autistic spider, yup there’s that and no I have no actual evidence for that other than it being a good angst opportunity (and projection but shush), fake dating trope, harper my soft girl omg she’s so worried

might not make it — ant/spider, smut, pure smut, it’s kinky too

my boy — harper/spider, also smut but with plot, kind of, also safe ass sex cause it’s what harper deserves

crash&burn — trans fem spider, harper/spider, smutty but with plot, dusty & sasha get bashed, sexy hot girlfriends that wear silk in bed and make dustys life hell on purpose

I got you — amerie/spider, another pregnancy fic but it’s amerie, it’s also malakais kid but he don’t know that yet, barely even started writing but have the entire idea in my head

syrup — another autistic spider fic cause y not, spider/malakai, dusty bashing, sappy & cute til it’s not and malakai wants to throttle dusty

a ride home — missy & spider centric, she moves his ass in when she finds out how bad his home life is, he’s traumatized to levels Missy didn’t know possible, ends up soft-ish, malakai is also a bro throughout it

orange juice — another trans fem spider fic, more missy & spider but also jai (missy’s brother) & spider, she gets kicked out and it’s a whole thing, ends up at the homeless shelter where jai volunteers and he helps her, eating disorders, bunch of shit happens, she moves in, lots of fkn angst tho

OKAY so that’s basically all of them <3 lmk what you think & hopefully none of yall snipe me down

trans fem spider x harper moodboards

“omg that’s such a crack ship-” too fuckin bad they’re girlfriends now

Spider pov :

Harper pov :

them together :

them together :