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anxious-botanist · 3 months ago

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tetsuro kuroo tooru oikawa issei matsukawa satori tendou atsumu miya meguru bachira ( @adoresia 🙄 ) satoru gojo

best friends who teach you how to kiss <3

“you’ve never kissed someone before?”

his voice was mortifyingly loud and, despite the fact that you were alone in his bedroom, you felt as if there were eyes on you. the genuine startle in his voice was the worst of it, you thought. the notion that he believed it to be so entirely out of ordinary — nearly choking on the water he was sipping and spitting it out all over you — sent your further plummeting into the endless pit of humiliation dug by years of neglect to your romantic experience.

your face grew impossibly warm, eyes averting from his and choosing instead to gaze intently at a loose string on his comforter. “you heard me the first time, didn’t you?”

the bits of sass lacing your tone even despite the roles you played in the situation almost made him laugh, bringing him out of the shocked paralysis he had been stuck in from the moment the admission left your lips. it was a reminder that despite the revelation (which he was shocked he had failed to pick up on beforehand, but he figured it was because he avoided asking about your love life to save himself from the ache in his chest had you recounted times with boys that were not him), it was nothing new. the bewilderment faded from his chest, giving way to something else welling up. satisfaction.

of course, he had not intended to abash you. he was just befogged as to why someone like you would never have someone to receive that affection from. sure, he knew you well enough to know you lacked a partner — he was your best friend, and he would be a rather poor one if he did not know the surface level details to your life. but was it so outrageous to assume you were just mingling? he had seen people with kiss counts higher than the populations of some nations and he thought none of them were as much of a catch as you. he pondered for a beat longer, mulling over the reasons, working them out in his quickly-computing mind. no suitors? no, definitely not. some sort of extreme celibacy? he figured you were not the type. waiting for the right person? yes, that seemed most feasible (him, perhaps? he quickly pushed that thought away).

he realized that he probably looked absolutely manic, staring at you with his brows knitted together and a far-away look in his eyes. he shook his head, willing himself to remain as incredibly suave as he thought he was. he propped himself up on an elbow, mattress dipping beneath his weight as he stared at you with a lazy grin. “well aren’t you the picture of innocence and purity, mm?”

he laughed when you swatted at him, ducking away from your backhand with ease. “shut up.” you spoke indignantly, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

suddenly, a thought popped into his mind. it was sick and more than not inappropriate, more than toeing the line of friendship and crossing over to… well, something less than platonic. his fingers drummed against the mattress, slender and rhythmic and casual in a way that made your shoulders relax and your heart quicken all in one.

“…want me to teach you?”

the smile on your face dropped, replaced by parted lips and widened eyes. you sat there for a moment, sputtering as he kept an unbothered front, brow raised and a smirk tugging at his lips as he hid the way his chest was constricting with a strange feeling he still could not recognize (no matter how long it had been there).

“stop messin’ with me,” you murmured.

he rolled his eyes fondly with a low chuckle, moving to sit up properly on the bed. he faced you now, knee bumping your thigh as he moved closer. it was near enough that you could see the hidden sincerity in his eyes, but far enough that if you really did want to, you could push him off. because no matter how desperately he wanted to take you in his arms and invade you with all that was him, he only wanted that if you did, too. despite the way you had corrupted him into something of desperation and deep seated yearning, he did not long to hold a limp hand. he was still sane enough to want to be loved in return before allowing his own adulation to flourish, as hard as it was to believe. but he had a chance now — even if under educational circumstances. “i’m not.” his voice was still carrying a frivolous lilt, but he meant it. you knew it, as did he.

“cmon…” he drawled, head cocking to the side. he was smooth, as if his metaphorical tail was not wagging behind him with every syllable further spoken. “don’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

suddenly, your throat felt incredibly dry. “I-“ you stuttered because, well, of course you had. not only was he pretty and fun and equipped with a mouth so loud you wanted to kiss him simply for the sake of silence, but he was always so close. so tantalizingly close, invading your entire being with every moment you were together. it was only normal, and you were only human.

he laughed. “so you’d like me to teach you, yes? i’m doing you a favour.”

“…okay.”

his heart leapt. of course, he had hoped for such an answer, but hearing it tumble so softly from your mouth was an entirely different sensation. he had no time to dwell, though, because you were in front of him now and he would be damned if he passed this up. so he leaned closer and thanked every deity there was for the opportunity, playing his internal rejoice off with a calm smile. he was very, very thankful that you were more flustered than he, or else his nerves may have gone haywire and blown him to dust.

he brought a hand to your face, using his other to guide yours where he wanted them. and now your hand was on his jaw and his palm was calloused and gentle as his culled your cheek and oh dear he was leaning closer and-

and he kissed you.

his lips were soft, almost cautious in an uncharacteristic way as they met yours. he kissed you as though you would shatter if he pressed any further, as though a breath too harsh would blow you away. your eyes shut, but if you opened them, you would see the furrow in his brows as he sentenced every cell in his body to a sentence of restraint.

“there ya go,” he murmured against your lips. “not so bad, huh?”

he did not give you the chance to respond before he was on you again, a little more desperate this time, as if he was grasping at straws trying to prolong the moment. maybe you were timid and gentle and a little too pliable but it was everything, far more than he would even ask for. so he kept kissing you, and he hoped you could not feel the tremors in his breath. he just needed it for a moment longer — just one would do, but eternity if you would let him have it.

gen tags @spookypeacesandwich @titititititixo @sickpatientt @kameyyy @cancelledkat @mayyhaps @wizzzierr @jadeyaps @s6rine @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @bubybubsters @lizbix @gumims @cinnamxnangel @aldebrana @anotherwriternamedclara

form here.

a/n: not proofread or anything, random idea sia yelled at me to write el oh el… was only supposed to be like 300 words idk what happened.

#screeching #better than any ya romance novel ive picked up wtf #i had to fully stop to scream about how good the line about a limp hand was #UGH #haikyuu #reblog

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anxious-botanist · 7 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

#my favourite fic ive read in AGES #omg so so good #such good characterisation too!!?!?#like that IS sylus you cant tell me otherwise #screaming and kicking my feet #love and deepspace #reblog

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