jxerv

[jxerv]

Taylor is engaged and you can’t understand how I cried.

She officially broke the prophecy😭

[jxerv]

TAYLOR I JUST WOKE UP WDRM BRAND NEW ALBUM?

[jxerv]

LOOK AT THIS CUTIES IM GONNA CRY

[jxerv]

Damn…

Hear me out...

[jxerv]

Can I request something for you to write???

Yes of course!

I write for the fandom i mentioned in my bio, so you can ask🩷

[jxerv]

Someone knows a good Suo Hayato fanfic? I NEED one rn😩

Idc where

[jxerv]

Chapter four — Miss lonely girl

Lovesick masterlist

THE SCHOOL hallway was steeped in a vibrant stillness, the kind typical of the short break between one class and another. Chinatsu Yui's footsteps echoed on the polished floor, bouncing off the walls lined with school announcements and colorful posters. She wore her usual uniform — the sandy skirt swaying with each step and the red bow neatly tied at the collar of her light blue shirt — and carried her literature notebook in her arms, covered in stickers and doodles, held together by a pink folder that looked like it came straight out of a children's stationery shop.

Yui's face was relaxed, almost dreamy. Lunch on the roof with Iwaizumi and Oikawa had given her back a bit of energy, though the discussion about Kitamura-sensei had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions inside her that she still couldn't quite make sense of. The walk back to the classroom felt light, accompanied by an imaginary tune only she could hear, a spontaneous smile curving her lips.

I wonder if there'll be a surprise test today... she thought, picturing the teacher with his usual serious look, hands behind his back, and that deep voice reading the questions out loud.

Yui giggled to herself, letting out a few squeals of delight.

It was then, just as she turned the corner of the hallway, that she saw him.

Kitamura-sensei stood by the window overlooking the inner courtyard, deep in conversation with another teacher. His black hair was as messy as ever, and he wore his signature rumpled brown blazer with the reinforced elbows — the same one he wore even on the hottest days of the year. He had a faint smile on his face, but his expression was shadowed, as if the weight of something unsaid pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Yui instinctively raised her hand to wave excitedly, eager to greet him even just with a cheerful "good morning," but her gesture froze mid-air when she caught his voice, low and grave.

«The average score of Class 3 has dropped again.» Kitamura-sensei said, crossing his arms while the other teacher nodded seriously. «If this continues... they might transfer me. Or worse, I might be forced to leave the school.»

Yui's heart skipped a beat. She didn't even know if what she was feeling was panic, dismay, or a sudden ache in the pit of her stomach. She stood frozen in place, petrified in the middle of the hallway, as the sounds around her seemed to fade away, muffled like through cotton. One phrase pounded in her head: He's leaving!

No. That couldn't happen. It mustn't happen.

Her favorite teacher couldn't just leave like that!

With an impulsive burst, Yui turned on her heel so fast she nearly lost her balance, her shoes skidding on the floor. Her pink strands of hair lifted into the air as she ran down the hallway, weaving past surprised students and teachers giving her stern looks for running so wildly. She had to find him. She had to talk to Iwaizumi.

After all, he always knew everything.

She flew down the stairs two at a time, clutching her notebook to her chest. Her heart thundered louder than her footsteps. Finally, in the side courtyard, she spotted him.

Iwaizumi Hajime was there, wearing his usual stern expression, scolding Kyotani Kentaro, who apparently had skipped math class again. His hands were in the pockets of his school jacket, his body slightly leaning forward as he spoke, his jaw tight like it always was when he was trying not to lose his temper. Just as Yui saw him, she shouted his name.

«Hajimeeee!»

He turned sharply, just in time to see her charge at him like a spring gust of wind. Yui grabbed the collar of his school jacket, pulling him toward her in a sudden motion, her face flushed and her eyes wide with agitation.

«He's in danger!» she cried without preamble.

«What—?!» Iwaizumi stumbled slightly, surprised by the force with which she had tugged him. His hands rose to gently take hold of Yui's wrists to loosen her grip, but not harshly. His voice dropped, calmer. «Yui, calm down. What's going on?»

She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts which scattered like papers in the wind. «Kitamura-sensei!» she finally blurted. «He was talking to another teacher... and he said that if our grades don't improve, he might leave!»

Iwaizumi stiffened. His eyes lowered for a moment, as if trying to process the news. Then he looked up at her again, seeing the way Yui's cheeks had turned red, as if every word she said embarrassed her deeply. Her hands, still clinging to his jacket, trembled slightly.

«And I don't want him to go!» she continued, voice quieter. «He's such a good teacher... and I... I really care!»

Iwaizumi's face remained still for a moment. Then he gently pried Yui's fingers from his jacket, holding her hands in his — larger, steadier. The contrast between their hands — his, rough and calloused from all the training he endured, and hers, soft and warm — seemed almost symbolic.

«Listen to me.» he said, voice deep and serious, but not scolding. «If you really want Kitamura-sensei to stay... then the only way to help him is to improve your grades.»

Yui stared at him with wide eyes, as if the thought had never even occurred to her. Then she slowly lowered her gaze, digesting the truth in his words. Iwaizumi gave her hands another reassuring squeeze.

«If the class does better, no one can say he hasn't done his job well. Do you really want to help him? Then work hard. Prove what you're capable of.»

A moment of silence. Then Yui's head snapped up, nodding enthusiastically, her pink hair swaying like cherry blossom petals in a breeze.

«You're right, Iwaizumi! I have to ace the next test!» she exclaimed, turning suddenly to her best friend. Her smile was so bright it looked like it could wrap around the entire courtyard.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, studying her closely as she clutched her math notebook. The words Yui had just spoken sounded more like an emotional outburst, but he knew there was a part of her that never truly took school performance seriously. She was one of those girls who followed her emotions more than logic.

Still, a small smile tugged at his lips, even if it was faint. Maybe this was just another one of her many promises, like the ones she made a thousand times before. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes slightly, a bit skeptical, but still curious.

«How many points did you get on your last test, Yui?» he asked, his voice lower, but still calm.

Yui paused for a moment, her smile faltering briefly, her face turning thoughtful. She sighed, tapping her foot on the ground nervously, as if trying to justify herself.

«Um... 32 out of 100.» she said, head lowered, tone defeated. «Not exactly the best, huh?»

Iwaizumi let out a sigh, placing a hand on his forehead in disbelief. «Not exactly the best? Yui, that's barely scraping by.»

She made a face, but didn't back down. She lifted her head, looking at him with determination. She wasn't the kind to give up so easily. That just wasn't her style — not even a little.

«But I'm not giving up that easily!» she exclaimed with her usual lively spirit, raising a fist into the air as if making a solemn vow. «This time I'm going to study seriously — more than anyone else! And I'll show you just how much I can improve!»

Iwaizumi looked at her, his dark eyes shining with amused disbelief — and maybe, just a touch of admiration. The idea that Yui was actually planning to take school seriously was something he probably shouldn't underestimate. After all, when she set her mind to something, she had a way of achieving the unexpected.

Before he could say anything to offer his help, Yui was already running off, the sound of her shoes echoing farther and farther away as she yelled: «I'm going to the library right now! See you later!»

Iwaizumi watched her disappear down the corridor, his mouth slightly open. He shook his head and let out a resigned sigh. There was nothing to be done — Yui had decided, and no one, not even him, could stop her now.

With another, deeper sigh, Iwaizumi started walking toward the library as well, though at a slower pace. He knew Yui would be like a whirlwind, but he liked seeing how, despite her constant cheerfulness and apparent disorganization, she was always capable of stepping up when it really mattered.

Meanwhile, Yui had already arrived at the library, pushing open the glass door with a decisive motion, not even stopping to glance at her reflection. The scent of paper and wood mingled in the air as she stepped between the shelves. The library was large, and its tall wooden bookcases rose against the walls, filled with dusty books and texts that looked like they belonged to another era. Every corner of the room seemed to hold forgotten secrets, and the light filtering through the tall windows bathed everything in a soft glow, giving it all an air of peace.

Yui paused, letting her eyes wander through the narrow spaces between the books, observing the golden and silver spines that sparkled in the sunlight. The sight of books always gave her a sense of calm, but today, something caught her eye — something she hadn't noticed before.

Right in front of her, on one of the wooden tables, there was a small object gleaming, as if it had been waiting to be found. Yui stepped closer, her heart beating faster, drawn to the glimmer. She bent over, her hands reaching out cautiously.

It was a silver ring. Its smooth surface reflected the light in an almost hypnotic way, and the sunlight streaming through the windows made it shine softly. The ring was simple, yet elegant, with a shape that felt natural, as if it had been crafted with special care. There was nothing flashy or overdone about it, but its brightness and simplicity made it captivating in a quiet way.

Yui picked it up, turning it over in her fingers, trying to understand why it felt so... familiar. There was something about its shape, its sheen, that gave her a feeling of déjà vu. Her mind wandered, trying to piece it together, but she couldn't recall anything specific.

«That's strange...» she murmured, inspecting the ring more closely. «Where have I seen this before?»

Her fingers traced its cool, smooth surface with a gentle touch. Yet, there was something comforting in that contact, as if the ring belonged to someone she knew — or had once known very well.

She turned it over a few more times, feeling a strange connection to the object. Then, without thinking much about it, she slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. She figured she'd talk to someone about it later — but not now. For now, she had to focus on her goal: studying. And if the ring kept bothering her, it would be easier to think about it later, when her mind wasn't crammed with dates and historical names.

«Excuse me.»

Yui spun around, her heart pounding faster than she'd care to admit. Behind her, Kitamura-sensei was watching her with a surprised, yet relieved expression. The look on his face was a mix of gratitude and slight embarrassment, as if he'd only just realized he had left behind something important.

«That ring is mine.» he said, stepping toward her. His voice was warm, but also a bit distracted, like he hadn't quite processed that he'd finally found what he'd been searching for. «If you don't mind, could I have it back?»

Yui stood frozen, eyes wide. For a moment, she couldn't believe what was happening. «This one?» she asked, her voice trembling, as she held the ring out to him. The gesture was so natural, yet full of an emotion she couldn't quite define. The hand offering the ring to Kitamura-sensei trembled slightly, almost surreal.

He nodded, his gentle smile spreading as he approached to take the ring. «Yes, it's mine... I must have dropped it while working, and I've spent the whole day looking for it. Thank you for finding it, Miss Chinatsu.» His words were full of gratitude, but Yui barely heard them. Her heart was too focused on a different reality — the one she had built in her mind, which now seemed to fade before her eyes.

Yui remained still, watching as Kitamura-sensei slipped the ring back onto his finger with a natural grace that made her feel strangely more distant from him than she'd ever wanted. Just a ring, she thought, but the ring seemed to weigh more than a thousand unspoken words. The teacher paused for a moment, smiling again, and said jokingly, «My wife would kill me if she found out I lost it...» A small laugh followed, but Yui couldn't even manage a smile.

So they're still together, she thought, as the echo of that word rang in her ears.

Then Kitamura-sensei gave her a parting glance and a polite nod. «Thank you again.» he added before walking away, returning to his steps with a slow, calm gait.

Yui remained there, unmoving, her face slowly lowering as if all her energy had vanished in a single instant. She dropped to the library floor, the sound of her body hitting the wood echoing in the quiet room. Her back rested against a bookshelf, and her head sank to her knees, hiding the face she could no longer keep composed.

It had happened again. She had placed too much hope — and once again, her expectations had been swept away. Of course it went badly, she thought, the weight of that phrase pulsing in her mind like a mantra she couldn't shake. Reality, as always, had come crashing in with a cruelty that left no room for dreams or illusions.

She stayed there, her arms wrapped around her knees, her heart still pounding hard. A wave of sadness swelled in her chest — and yet, even so, she knew it wouldn't last. She would be sad, yes, but as hard as it was to admit, Yui wasn't the type to stay down for long. She would move forward, just as she always had, trying not to look too deeply into her wounded heart.

But for now, in that moment, all she could do was hide her face in her hands and try to keep the world from feeling just a little farther away.

Hey babes, hope yall doing good!

[jxerv]

Just a Mitsuya sketch I did today🫦

[jxerv]

Chapter number three — Idiot

Lovesick masterlist

THE SCHOOL rooftop was wrapped in a pleasant silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves stirred by the wind and the distant hum of school activities from the floors below. The high, white clouds, puffy like cotton balls, drifted slowly above them, casting wide and uncertain shadows on the gray rooftop. The spring air was mild and fresh, carrying with it the scent of grass and the school

Sitting in a circle, Iwaizumi, Yui, and Oikawa shared their lunch, legs stretched out or lazily crossed, their bentos scattered in front of them among juice cartons, chopsticks, and a few colorful plastic containers.

As always, Oikawa was talking.

A lot.

«...and then, of course, we'll have to face Shiratorizawa. Again. But this time we're going to crush them, right Iwa-chan?»

Iwaizumi looked up from his rice and grunted in agreement, more out of habit than conviction. He knew Oikawa just wanted reassurance, and by now he had learned to give it to him like patting an overexcited dog.

Sitting next to him, Yui was silent.

A silence that didn't suit her.

Usually, she would have interrupted Oikawa at least three times, would have sighed, laughed, or thrown out one of her random remarks that always managed to deflate any seriousness. But now she was staring at the contents of her bento as if she were reading her fate in the tamagoyaki.

Iwaizumi glanced at her sideways. Her pink hair swayed lightly on her shoulders, tousled into two high pigtails that looked messier than usual. The daylight made her blue eyes shine, but their usual sparkle was dulled by a veil of thought.

«Yui?»

Oikawa turned to her with his chopsticks still in hand. «You're unusually quiet. Everything okay?»

She slowly looked up. It seemed like she had only just returned to reality, as if she had been lost in something only she could see.

«Yeah... It's just that...» She paused for a moment, then gave a small smile. But it was a tense smile, restrained, a held-back expression. «I like someone.»

Her words fell between them like a leaf dropping straight down, without swaying.

Iwaizumi didn't move. He wasn't even surprised. It was Yui, after all. Her crushes were frequent and often fleeting, born from a kind gesture or a misunderstood romantic moment. He nodded slowly, trying to seem indifferent.

«I understand.»

In truth, he didn't understand at all, but he preferred humoring her rather than upset her.

Yui didn't have that tone when she talked about a "crush." She didn't have that deep, slightly fragile look. She didn't carry that silence before speaking.

«This time it's different.» she said, gripping the sand-colored skirt of her uniform. Her knuckles turned white.

Oikawa, who had resumed eating, raised an eyebrow. «Again? Isn't this like the thousandth time just this year?»

Yui didn't reply. But Iwaizumi noticed how serious her expression had become. There was something in her eyes he rarely saw: uncertainty.

She looked at each of them in turn, her gaze calm and clear, as if she were about to reveal a secret she had kept hidden for too long.

«It's real love. I just realized it now.»

Iwaizumi held his breath.

Yui always spoke of love like it was an easy thing to handle.

He looked away, jaw tight.

Oikawa opened his mouth for a joke but stopped. He too seemed to sense the difference.

Then, in a quieter, almost timid voice, Iwaizumi said: «Let me guess... You fell in love because he lent you a pen, or something like that.»

Yui shook her head. Her gaze trembled slightly, but remained fixed on her friends. «No. Not this time.»

Her eyes shifted to Iwaizumi, as if seeking an anchor. As if what she was about to say was hard to articulate, but necessary.

«I fell in love with him because he's always looked out for me. Because even when I messed up, he was there to explain everything. Because he never backed away, not even when I was unbearable. Because he protected me, listened to me, understood me... even when I didn't understand myself.»

Iwaizumi felt the blood slowly rise to his ears.

He had stopped breathing.

She's not about to...

His hands, resting on his lap, trembled slightly. But her face was sincere. Her eyes were looking at him. At him.

Something melted in Iwaizumi's chest, something he had kept locked away for far too long. He thought: She's figured it out. Finally.

He had known her since they were kids. He had seen her grow, stumble, cry, and laugh. He had reached out to her every time. And now, after years of quiet waiting, she was finally seeing him.

Then Yui lowered her gaze for a moment, and with a bright smile, open like spring, declared:

«I fell in love with Kitamura-sensei.»

For a moment, the world went still.

The silence that followed the revelation lasted only a few seconds. Then Oikawa, mouth still full of rice and eyes wide with shock, burst into loud laughter that made the air around them vibrate.

«Wait— What?!» Oikawa choked on a grain of rice. He coughed dramatically, pounding his chest as his eyes bulged. «K-Kitamura-sensei?!» he croaked between coughs, smacking a hand on his knee while the other tried not to spill his bento. «That old guy?!»

Yui puffed up indignantly, cheeks swelling like a kid whose foot had been stepped on. She straightened her back, pointed an accusing finger at Oikawa, and shot back:

«He is not old! He's only thirty-six... no, thirty-seven! And you don't say "old", you say mature!»

«Thirty-seven?!» Oikawa wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks from laughing too hard. «Then he's practically ready for retirement! He could be your dad!»

«Oh, stop it!» Yui crossed her arms over her chest, turning her face to the side with a pout. «He just has... a charming aura. And then there's that deep voice... And his eyes! When he looks out the window while explaining World War II, it's like he's reliving every single battle.»

Oikawa bent forward, barely holding back another laugh. «Yeah, right! If by 'charming' you mean "gloomy and crusty" then you've got some seriously weird tastes, Yu-chan!»

Iwaizumi, who had remained silent until that moment, calmly set his chopsticks down beside his lunch container. His gaze had narrowed, his eyes becoming two dark slits. When he spoke, his voice was calm — but as taut as a pulled cord.

«Yui... you know very well that Kitamura-sensei is married.»

Yui lowered her eyes to her lunch, absentmindedly playing with a flower-shaped carrot slice. The color drained slightly from her face, and a sad expression settled on her lips. She sighed, her pink pigtails swaying with the motion, and wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to protect something fragile.

«I know... That's exactly why I decided to forget about him. I even promised myself I'd focus on other guys. Like Mitsukawa.» A brief pause, then a guilty glance. «But... lately I've noticed he doesn't wear his ring anymore.»

Oikawa opened his mouth in theatrical shock, ready with another quip, but the tone in Yui's voice stopped him. Even he could tell that, as surreal as it sounded, she really meant it.

Iwaizumi leaned slightly toward her, his eyes stern, almost fatherly. His brows had furrowed into the expression Yui knew all too well — the one that came before every one of his "grown-up" lectures.

«You. Are. Not. Going. To. Do. Anything. Stupid.» he said, spacing out each word with the calm of someone who had already lived through too many of his best friend's impulsive stunts. «You know perfectly well it would be wrong, and Kitamura-sensei would get into serious trouble.»

Yui shivered slightly, as if a cold draft had run down her spine. She raised a hand to her forehead and nodded quickly, like a soldier receiving important orders.

«Okay! I promise!» she said, then hurriedly stuffed a bite into her mouth, trying to look innocent and preoccupied. But her eyes refused to meet Iwaizumi's, and her cheeks had turned such a bright pink they almost matched her hair.

Iwaizumi watched her for a moment, suspicious, then slowly returned to his lunch, though his appetite seemed to have vanished. Beside him, Oikawa lay sprawled on his back, watching the clouds with a lazy smile on his lips.

«In love with Kitamura-sensei... that's a new one.» the setter murmured.

Yui tried to focus on her bento, stabbing at the rice with her chopsticks as if she could bury her thoughts in it too. But the warmth rising to her ears wouldn't let up. And yet, beneath the embarrassment and nerves, a small spark of determination was lighting in her heart.

Even if she didn't say it, even if Iwaizumi didn't approve... she had no intention of giving up that easily.

Not yet.

IM ALIVE

[jxerv]

The vma’s are tonight, if Taylor don’t do anything I will crash out

[jxerv]

shikamaru x fem!reader, high school universe, fluff

masterlist

IT WAS Valentine's Day, and the air was thick with that sweet scent that only industrial quantities of chocolate could leave behind. The classrooms at Konoha High were a festival of pastel colors: pink, red, white. Handmade paper hearts hung here and there from the open windows, swaying gently in the light breeze that slipped through the hallways like a whisper.

Couples exchanged glances between classes, slipping into hidden corners to steal quick kisses before the bell dragged them apart. The more creative girls showed off confections that looked like they belonged on the cover of a baking magazine: cookies, cakes, chocolate bars decorated with star-shaped sugar sprinkles. The boys received them with a mix of pride and embarrassment, awkward and clumsy, some blushing all the way to their ears.

And then there was [Y/n].

Sitting on the subway that morning, she clutched the pink bag in her hands like it was a sacred relic. The white bow was a bit crooked, but she had already fixed it three times before leaving the house. The chocolates inside — small, dark, no frills — were bitter and intense, just like the ones her mother used to make only for special occasions. And this was a special occasion.

She had spent hours melting the chocolate in a double boiler, tempering it to perfection, pouring it into leaf-shaped molds — a detail she hoped he would notice. Every movement had been made with one clear thought in mind: Shikamaru Nara.

Him, always sitting by the window, eyes turned to the sky like the world exhausted him more than it should. Him, with that messy ponytail, his tie never quite right, and a brain far too brilliant for ordinary conversations. He was the student council president, sure, but he seemed to hate every second of it. And yet he was the first to show up at assemblies, the first to break up a fight, the first to defend someone who couldn't defend themselves.

That was what [Y/n] had always admired.

He wasn't just smart. He was kind — in the way only someone who truly understood how hard life could be, could be.

That day, as soon as she stepped into classroom 3-A, her heart stopped for a second. Shikamaru's desk was a scene of its own: a small crowd of girls surrounded it like bees around flowers. Each one with a different package, a trembling smile, an excuse to linger for just a few more seconds near him. Shikamaru, as expected, sat there with slouched shoulders and half-lidded eyes, looking like he'd rather be hit by a truck than go through the moment.

"Tsk, how troublesome..." he muttered, slowly stacking the packages in a corner of his desk, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

[Y/n] stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, gripping the bag so tightly the plastic crinkled under her fingers. The courage that had carried her from home to school instantly crumbled. Of course Shikamaru would get so many gifts. It was obvious. He was him. And she... she was just one of many.

Without a word, she walked to her desk in the last row, right behind his, lowering her gaze as if she could disappear between the lines of the floor. She sat down, still holding the bag, but now it felt like a foreign object. A pink thing too alive for such a trembling heart.

The girls' voices around Shikamaru grew shriller, and every now and then he replied with a distracted monosyllable, his tone as flat as the summer sea.

[Y/n] bit her lower lip, tasting the metallic edge of nerves. How stupid... she thought. Two years of watching him from afar, of inventing conversations that never happened, of imagining that maybe, one day, he'd look her way. And now that she'd finally decided to take a step... was it too late?

The clock above the blackboard read 8:11.

The bell would ring in four minutes.

Four minutes to decide whether to act or stay seated, once again, watching him from a distance.

The pink bag, resting on her knees, felt as heavy as a suitcase full of dreams.

And then something happened.

Shikamaru turned around. Just for a moment. But long enough for his eyes to meet hers.

It wasn't a long look. It wasn't an intense look.

But it was a direct look.

And [Y/n] held her breath.

The lunch break bell rang with its usual metallic echo, spreading through the hallways and dissolving the last words of the teachers. Students poured out of their classrooms with hunger in their eyes and the kind of energy that came with feeling free — at least for those forty minutes.

Like every day, [Y/n] followed the usual path that led to the garden behind the school, a wide, open space where the grass grew thick and soft and the trees offered shade and silence. There were corners filled with chatter and laughter, and others more peaceful, like the one she and her friends always occupied, under a large cherry tree still bare of blossoms.

Sakura was the first to sit down, carefully opening her bento decorated with little cherry designs. Ino lay back on the grass, propping herself up on one elbow, while Hinata gracefully arranged her lunch on a floral napkin.

[Y/n] slowly opened her bag, placing it beside her, but for some reason, her eyes kept drifting back to the small, untouched pink bag tucked carefully into the inner pocket. It was still there. Still. Despite the promises she had made to herself.

"And then, when I gave them to him, he looked at me for a second and smiled!" Sakura was saying, her eyes glowing with triumph. "You have no idea how rare that is!"

"Well, considering he's your boyfriend, I'd say it's the least he could do." Ino laughed, teasing her with a mischievous smile. "Sasuke's always so mysterious, but at least he's not rude. Unlike someone else I could mention..."

Hinata giggled softly, bringing a hand to her mouth, and then, with sincere timidity, turned to [Y/n]. "Speaking of chocolates... have you given yours to Shikamaru yet?" she asked quietly, almost as if afraid of being too forward.

At that moment, Sakura and Ino turned toward her at once, as if they had all just remembered — at the exact same instant — the little plan [Y/n] had confided in them a few days earlier.

"Right!" exclaimed Sakura, leaning in slightly. "Didn't you say today was the day?"

[Y/n] felt herself sinking into the grass. An embarrassed smile crept onto her lips, and she blushed so hard her ears felt like they were on fire.

"No, I mean... not yet." she replied, lowering her gaze a little. "It's just... there were so many girls this morning, and he already looked so stressed. I didn't want to add to the pile."

"Pile? Oh, come on!" Ino protested, crossing her arms. "You're not like the others. You actually thought about your gift. You made bitter chocolates! Nobody thinks about things like that."

[Y/n] gave a faint smile, staring down at her hands. There were still traces of cocoa under one fingernail, despite washing them several times.

It was true. She had thought through every detail. But thinking had never been enough.

A light breeze moved a few strands of her hair, while the tree's shade protected them from the midday sun. And it was just then, as she was about to speak, that something caught her eye. Or rather, someone.

Not far from them, lying on the grass as if the world could wait, Shikamaru was staring at the sky. His hands behind his head, one leg bent, and that peaceful expression — somewhere between boredom and deep thought — that he wore so naturally. He wore his school uniform in his usual messy way, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, jacket tossed beside him. And he looked utterly at peace. Detached from everything.

[Y/n] stared at him for several seconds, without even realizing it.

Every now and then, a cloud passed overhead, and she tried to follow its shape, just like he did. There was something in the way he existed in the world, like he had already figured everything out and decided it wasn't worth getting worked up about. Like he could see beyond it all.

A voice pulled her back.

"You're down bad." Ino whispered slyly, leaning toward her and giving her a playful nudge in the side. "You're looking at him like he's a steak."

[Y/n] jumped, bright red, and tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled sound.

"N-no I'm not!" she lied, terribly.

Sakura giggled softly, while Hinata lowered her gaze, smiling quietly. Their warmth was something simple, something real. The three of them were true friends, and even if they loved to tease her, there was nothing but affection behind their words.

Feeling exposed, [Y/n] tried to change the subject, struck by an idea as awkward as it was fast.

"And what about you, Ino? Did you give your chocolates to Sai?" she asked, desperately trying to redirect the attention.

Ino raised an eyebrow at her. It was obvious she knew exactly what [Y/n] was trying to do.

But she went along with it anyway.

"Oh, I definitely did." she replied, casting a theatrical glance at the sky. "Even though at first he looked at me like I was trying to poison him."

The laughter was immediate. Sakura laughed until she bent forward, Hinata covered her face to hide, and even [Y/n] burst into genuine laughter, almost relieved.

"Sai doesn't get romance at all." Sakura said through her giggles. "But at least he ate them, right?"

"He ate all of them." Ino confirmed proudly. "Then he said they were 'nutritionally balanced.' I felt like a nutritionist in that moment!"

The girls kept chatting like that, jumping from one topic to another, between laughter and confessions, while the tree's shadow slowly stretched across the grass.

What none of them noticed — or perhaps only Hinata, with her quiet sixth sense — was that just a few meters away, lying as always in his suspended world, Shikamaru would occasionally open one eye.

And his gaze — slow, lazy, yet precise — would settle exactly on [Y/n].

The afternoon opened with a clear sky and a light breeze that made the air almost bearable, despite the sun beginning to make its presence felt. P.E. was one of the least loved classes by most of the students, especially when it meant the infamous dodgeball tournament — which wasn't really a tournament, more like a chaotic war disguised as a 'group activity'.

The gym was already full when Class 3-A entered, the echo of their footsteps on the wooden floorboards amplified by the high walls. The neon lights, cold and sharp, made each colorful ball lined up along the sidelines gleam. [Y/n] quickly tied her hair into a ponytail, trying to ignore the insistent pounding in her ears.

The teacher, with the tired look of someone just waiting for the day to end, divided the class into two teams. Names were called out one after the other, and when she heard hers.

"[Y/n], red team" she turned toward the classmates who would be on her side.

And there, like a small sign from fate, like a string being pulled once again between her and the boy she couldn't stop looking at, there he was.

Shikamaru.

Leaning against the gym wall, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on the ceiling, he looked like he'd been dragged there against his will. His name had been read out just after hers, and that could only mean one thing: they were on the same team.

[Y/n] felt her heart do a somersault.

The court was divided with yellow lines, the balls placed in the center like mines ready to explode. The students began warming up — some stretched, others were already joking about the game. She, on the other hand, tried to gather her courage, thinking that maybe this could be the right moment.

Maybe, before the game started, she could walk over to him. Exchange a few words. Make him laugh with a silly joke. And — who knows — maybe ask him to hang out after school, even just for a walk, even just for five minutes.

Five minutes with Shikamaru. That would be enough for her.

She spotted him from afar. He had sat on the edge of the court, still wearing that bored expression that always seemed to say: Why am I even here?

[Y/n] chuckled to herself. He was almost endearing, in his constant disinterest in everything.

She took a deep breath, adjusted her gym shirt, and took the first step toward him. The second was easier. The third, even more so.

"Hey... Shikamaru?" she began, her tone soft, uncertain but full of hope. He turned slightly, one eyebrow raised.

She was about to speak, to ask the question that had been trembling on her lips for hours.

Would you like to meet after class?

I have something for you.

I've been thinking about you.

But right at that moment, a voice boomed through the gym: "Go!"

A sharp whistle cut through the air like a blade.

And before she could even process what was happening, an orange ball came flying out of nowhere and, like it was guided by some divine force with a terrible sense of humor, hit her square in the face.

The sound was clean, dull, almost comical.

Her vision went dark for a second, her legs gave out beneath her, and she found herself on the floor, sitting on her butt, one hand pressed to her nose, while a wave of voices rose around her.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

"That was Karin! She threw it too hard!"

"I didn't do it!"

"Someone go get the teacher!"

"Oh no, is she bleeding?!"

[Y/n] opened one eye. Everyone was looking at her.

Her head buzzed a little, but it wasn't anything serious. Her nose was throbbing, sure, and the redness probably wouldn't fade before evening. But what hurt the most, more than anything, was the knowledge that, once again, the moment was gone.

Her cheeks burned, but not just from the hit. She couldn't tell if it was the pain, the embarrassment, or the disappointment. Or maybe all three, mixed into one bitter, messy cocktail.

And yet, she smiled.

Not one of those bright, perfect, confident smiles. But one of those smiles you make when you realize that, despite everything, your heart needs to laugh about it — just to keep from falling apart.

She looked up at the ceiling for a second, then closed her eyes.

I give up.

Shikamaru walked through the nearly deserted school corridors with a slowness that had become, by now, an integral part of who he was. One hand buried in his pants pocket, the other lazily lifted to cover his mouth as a silent yawn stretched across his lips.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and the golden, muted sunlight filtered through the large hallway windows with an almost unreal calm. Shadows stretched across the shiny floor like soft silk ribbons, dancing lightly with every step.

It had been an especially tiring day, even by his standards. And not because of tests or quizzes, but for something even more exhausting: Valentine's Day.

A colossal nuisance.

Every year it was the same story: chocolates, cards, pink packages with too many bows and glitter, compliments whispered by girls hoping for a glance or a kind word. And that was the thing — he always had to be careful. Always. Not to be rude. Not to snap. Not to look annoyed, even when he was.

What a drag...

He had spent the last hour talking to two teachers, trying to resolve some logistical matters for the student council. The only thing he wanted now was to go home. Sink into the peace of his room, maybe lie down on the futon and stare at the ceiling until dinner.

But first, he had to grab his bag.

The classrooms were already empty. In the late afternoon, the school had a particular kind of stillness — like every word, every run, every laugh of the day had dissolved into the air, leaving only the soft silence of footsteps on tiles and the faint creak of windows.

He opened his classroom door with a slow motion. And that's when he saw her.

Sitting at his desk, head resting on her crossed arms, was a girl fast asleep.

[Y/n].

For a moment, Shikamaru stood still. His eyebrows barely raised, his gaze attentive.

The warm afternoon light brushed her hair, making it shimmer with honey and gold tones. It looked like strands of light scattered across her shoulders and the desk like soft feathers. Her expression was peaceful, relaxed, almost childlike in her sleep. A lock of hair covered part of her face, and he couldn't explain why, but he found himself thinking she looked... cute.

Really cute.

He shifted his gaze.

On the desk beside her was a small package decorated with two bows: one white and one red. It wasn't over the top. It didn't sparkle, didn't reek of sugar. It was simple, understated. Almost elegant. A small note of calm in the chaos he'd had to endure all day.

And right on top of the package was a little card.

Shikamaru walked closer, almost on tiptoe. He didn't want to wake her. There was something about that quiet that he didn't want to break.

He picked up the card between two fingers. Opened it.

The handwriting was neat, rounded, with a small touch of exaggeration in the hearts above the i's. But not too much. It felt... sincere.

I really like you, Shikamaru. I wanted to give you these chocolates, but today the world seemed to be against me.

A small puff of air escaped his lips. A low sound, amused, almost a sigh disguised as a laugh. Then a lazy smile — one of those rare ones that only surfaced when something truly managed to surprise him — curved his lips.

"So that's why you followed me around all day." he murmured, slightly folding the card between his fingers. He wasn't stupid. He had noticed. Those fleeting glances, the hesitant movements, the unnatural pauses when she walked past him. The way her friends pushed her with their eyes and she pretended not to notice.

He had seen her during the dodgeball game, too. That colossal mishap. He had winced, of course, but not in mockery. It had been more... sympathy? Curiosity? Yes, curiosity.

Slowly, as if wanting to savor that strange and quiet moment, he opened the package.

Inside, neatly arranged in two precise rows, were handmade chocolates. No glaze, no sprinkles. They were simple, slightly bitter, a little uneven. Perfect in their imperfection.

He picked one up. Examined it for a second, then brought it to his mouth and tasted it.

Bitter.

Exactly how he liked them.

He swallowed slowly, savoring the aftertaste as it melted on his tongue. Another smile brushed his face, more genuine than the first. Almost affectionate.

"Bitter, huh?" he whispered to himself.

He slowly sat down at the desk beside her, resting his chin on his hand. He stayed silent for a few seconds, letting the thoughts pass through him.

He had never really been interested in these things. Relationships, confessions, romantic feelings — all things he filed under unnecessary complications. He preferred strategy, logic, simple solutions. But he wasn't blind. He wasn't heartless.

He knew sincerity when he saw it.

And everything about that package was sincere.

He turned to look at her.

[Y/n] was still asleep, lips slightly parted, long lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. She looked younger like that. More fragile. More real.

Shikamaru found himself thinking how brave she'd been. Maybe she hadn't said anything, hadn't made a grand gesture, but she had stayed. She'd left that note. She'd tried. And then she'd fallen asleep in class, as if the world could wait.

He stood up.

Pulled a blank slip of paper from his pencil case and his black pen.

He wrote just a few words, in his thin, slanted handwriting:

Thank you. The chocolates were good. Can we talk tomorrow?

No signature. There was no need.

He placed the note next to the opened package, leaving just one chocolate inside.

Then he grabbed his bag, cast one last glance at her — still bathed in the golden afternoon light — and stepped out of the classroom.

The hallway was still quiet.

Outside, the sky was starting to blush orange.

And for the first time that day, Valentine's didn't seem like such a drag.

wc: 3484

[jxerv]

bokuto x fem!reader, canon universe, post time-skip, fluff

masterlist

THE CHIRPING of birds reached softly through the windows, which, bare of curtains, let the first golden rays of morning filter in, bathing every corner of the room in warm light. The air was still and sweet, steeped in that unsettling silence that only the earliest hours of dawn can offer. Time seemed to hold its breath.

[Y/n] squinted, disturbed by the sunlight brushing her face. She made a slight grimace, lips twitching as a shiver of discomfort wrinkled her nose. Two small birds perched on the window ledge, motionless, like silent spectators of the domestic awakening. Their beady black eyes watched the room curiously, as if sensing the sacred intimacy of that space still wrapped in a sweet torpor.

The magic of the night hadn’t entirely vanished: the room was still suspended in that limbo between dream and reality, a warm cocoon of rumpled blankets, slow breaths, and silent heartbeats of love.

A lazy smile spread slowly across [Y/n]’s lips, soft as a caress.

She’d been looking forward to that Saturday for days.

With the help of her sisters-in-law — a word she still couldn’t say without smiling — she had planned a family picnic. The idea had come up almost playfully during one of their long phone calls, and now, with the honeymoon finally behind them and married life just beginning to bloom, the moment seemed perfect to reconnect.

It had been a while since they’d all seen each other. And even though Bokuto had theatrically pretended not to miss his sisters, he always gave in in the end: nights spent on video calls with them, laughing, talking, and listening to their goodnight wishes like when they were kids.

The thought made her smile. The idea that a man of his size and presence could be so tenderly attached to his family was something [Y/n] found wonderful. After all, Bokuto Kotaro was a child who had grown up too fast, full of light, enthusiasm, and a huge heart.

She huffed amusedly, stretching her arms as she propped herself up on her elbows. Her gaze slid to the nightstand: the clock read 7:00 a.m.

She had exactly fifty minutes to shower, pack a few changes of clothes, get the picnic basket ready — filled with every treat she’d carefully planned — and most importantly… wake her husband, the most stubborn of all sleepyheads.

Okay, i can do it.

She was about to move when a pair of strong, enveloping arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her decisively back under the covers. Her body landed on the mattress with a startled bounce as a sleep-heavy voice whispered firmly:

“No.”

Bokuto’s lips pressed against her skin, nestling into the crook of her neck and shoulder. His warm breath skimmed her collarbones, gliding over her bare skin like a feather, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Go back to sleep.”

There he was. Her big kid, with messy hair and thick lashes that fluttered slightly. He curled against her like she was his personal pillow, trying with all his might to keep her in bed.

His grip was so tight she could barely turn around. But when she finally did, she came face to face with the man she had chosen to love every day of her life.

There were so many things she adored about him. His full cheeks, soft as clouds. His unruly hair that defied any comb. His closed eyes, peaceful, and the thick eyebrows that rose whenever he smiled. Even his half-open mouth with a thin trail of drool — an image far from poetic, yet to her, endlessly endearing.

She could have watched him for hours. She always found something new to love.

But they had to go.

“Ko…” she whispered, leaning in to brush his cheek with her lips. “We have to get up.”

He let out a whining sound, almost a grunt, and buried his face deeper into her neck, holding her as if he could melt her into himself.

[Y/n] giggled softly. His childish side was always a challenge.

Bokuto’s soft lips landed on her skin with a tenderness that spoke of pure love. “No, we don’t.”

She sighed, fingers threading through his unruly hair, stroking gently. “Yes, we do. We’ve got that picnic with your sisters and their husbands, remember?”

“Let’s postpone it.”

[Y/n] laughed again, the clear sound of her voice filling the room like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Bokuto opened his eyes just a little, looking at her with a lazy smile, pleased to have made her laugh. He always did that: it was his mission, every morning and every night.

“Good morning, beautiful.” he mumbled softly, leaning in to steal a slow kiss, the kind that seemed to stretch time and suspend the world.

His warm hands moved along her back, following the curves of her body with reverence. [Y/n] returned the kiss tenderly, feeling herself melt.

“Good morning to you too.”

They kissed again, slowly and gratefully. Bokuto looked at her as if she were everything he’d ever wanted, with those eyes full of unconditional love. And she wondered every day if it was really possible to be loved that much. Apparently, it was.

Her fingers caressed the warm, smooth skin of his face, making him close his eyes with a sigh of contentment.

He looked like a cuddled child.

But the moment of silence was gently interrupted by her soft reminder.

“So, what do you say? Shall we get ready for the day?”

Bokuto huffed and pressed his forehead against hers again. “Why do we have to go?”

“Because we haven’t seen them in too long. Don’t you want to see your sisters?”

“We have a whole lifetime to see each other. One more day won’t make a difference.” He pulled her even closer, kissing her with sudden intensity. “I want to be with you.”

[Y/n] sighed, melting into his embrace. “But we’ll be together every day.”

“And that’s why I married you.” he replied with a cheeky smile. “Now please, can I enjoy my wife in peace?”

She burst into laughter, a spontaneous, joyful sound that nestled perfectly within the walls of the room. Her plan for that Saturday had gone up in smoke, and yet she couldn’t be disappointed.

She had missed a morning picnic, but she’d gained a few more hours in the arms of the man she loved.

And in that moment, nothing seemed more important.

With a sigh, she gave in. Her fingers traced small circles on the back of Bokuto’s neck as she closed her eyes once more.

“All right, as you wish, you big baby.”

And there, among wrinkled blankets and intertwined breaths, time stood still a little longer.

wc: 1123

[jxerv]

Welcome to my Fukurodani masterlist!

BOKUTO KOUTARO

Lazy mornings — one shots, fluff

Back to the teams masterlist

[jxerv]

Chapter number two — Crybaby

Lovesick masterlist

THE SKY was the same clear blue as always, but for a five-year-old, every day felt different. That afternoon, Iwaizumi Hajime was walking home from school with the tired yet determined steps of someone who had run too much during recess. His knees ached slightly, covered in fresh scrapes and wrinkled band-aids, the result of countless falls that had never managed to steal his smile. His backpack hung from one shoulder, while his other hand rummaged in his pocket, looking for a few pebbles to throw.

The road to his house was quiet, lined with low trees and colorful fences, and the scent of chalk and wooden desks from the classrooms still lingered in the air. But that day, something made him slow down.

A whimper, faint, almost a whisper in the wind. Iwaizumi stopped, squinting to find its source. Ahead, near the low wall that bordered the neighborhood playground, he saw a crouched figure. He approached cautiously.

It was a girl.

She had pink hair, a weird pink, like the cherry blossom petals he saw in spring and that his mother told him not to touch — only brighter. Her hair was tied in two uneven pigtails, one higher than the other. She was sitting on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, her chin tucked between her knees. She was crying silently. Tears streamed down her rosy cheeks without a single sob.

Iwaizumi knelt down in front of her, placing his already battered knees on the ground without much care — he was a big kid, they didn't hurt. He leaned forward and looked at her with his head tilted to the side.

«Hey...» he said in a soft but clear voice. «Are you okay?»

The girl slowly lifted her head. Her face was flushed, nose runny, eyes a very light blue and swollen from crying. She tried to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand, but her voice trembled as she replied.

«Some kids... pushed me...» she sniffled loudly. «They said my hair is weird... and I fell. Now my knee hurts.»

Iwaizumi looked down. The girl's right knee was scraped, and a thin line of blood trickled down her skin. Her white tights were torn and stained, and her shoes had lost their brand-new shine.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he took off his backpack and opened it quickly. He rummaged through crumpled notebooks, ink-stained erasers, and a forgotten toy car until he found a small pouch. He opened it and pulled out a colorful band-aid decorated with tiny dinosaurs. Without asking for permission, he leaned in and placed it gently on the wound, being careful not to press too hard.

«All done.» he said, blowing softly to soothe the pain. «You should feel better soon.»

The girl looked at him, surprised. She had stopped crying — or at least the tears had slowed. Her lashes were still wet, but something in her eyes began to sparkle.

«Thank you...» she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Iwaizumi smiled. Not a big grin, but a genuine smile, the kind that comes without thinking. Then, as if to reassure her further, he lifted the hem of his shorts and showed her his knees: covered in at least five different band-aids: one with stars, one with sharks, one with robots.

«See? I fall all the time too, but it's not a big deal if you put a band-aid on it.» he said, chuckling. «Besides, you're way too pretty to cry like that.» The girl stared at him, and something inside her melted. A small, fragile, but true smile spread across her lips. Her pigtails bobbed slightly as she nodded.

«My name is Chinatsu Yui.» she said softly.

«I'm Iwaizumi Hajime. But you can call me Hajime.»

They stayed there for a while, sitting on the sidewalk, as if time had stopped just for them. The breeze blew gently, lifting a few leaves from the ground. In that moment, without the need for grand words, something simple and strong was born. An unspoken promise. A kindness that, in the heart of a little girl with strange hair, would be etched forever.

A slight shiver ran through him. The air in the room was still, thin, and the ticking of the clock above the door seemed louder than usual. Iwaizumi Hajime woke slowly, his eyes still foggy from the weight of sleep. He jerked his head up from the desk, and a half-crumpled math worksheet slid off his cheek, floating gently to the floor.

He sighed. His chin burned slightly where it had pressed against the edge of the notebook, and his eyes, dry, felt like they were filled with sand. He rubbed his face with both hands and straightened up in the chair, stretching his sore back.

In front of him, somewhere between serious and bored, was the last math problem he hadn't managed to solve before falling asleep. The numbers twisted into a tangle of nonsense, but Iwaizumi's mind was no longer there.

The dream had been vivid. So real that, for a moment, he had almost smelled springtime again — the faint voice of that pink-haired girl crying softly. Seeing Yui as a child again, with her crooked pigtails and scraped knee, had tugged at something inside his chest. It had been a long time ago, but the memory hadn't lost a single detail. It was still there, with that innocent simplicity that had changed something in him, even if he hadn't realized it then.

He leaned back against the chair, letting it creak slightly as it tilted. The city lights filtered weakly through the blinds. It was late evening now, and darkness had wrapped the room like a thick blanket.

Then his thoughts returned to that day.

To Yui's bright voice declaring her feelings with all the strength of her naive heart. To Mitsukawa, embarrassed and uncertain, trying to figure out if he was the target of a joke or the recipient of true affection. And finally to him, Iwaizumi, watching it all from a step behind, as he always did. Always silent. Always watching her back.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, letting it fall back into his lap with a tired thud. Maybe he should have laughed. It was a funny situation, really: a girl falling in love over a borrowed eraser. But he couldn't. Because he knew her too well. Every gesture, every exaggerated expression or silly word. And behind it all, he knew there was a sincere heart.

His eyes lifted toward the ceiling, as if he could read an answer up there, a reason, something.

And in a hoarse whisper, as if afraid of hearing it aloud, he let the words fall:

«Why can't you just fall in love with me, Yui?»

The ceiling, of course, didn't answer. And Iwaizumi looked back at his homework, but with an emptier gaze.

As if there was no turning back from that question.

My babies😭

They’re so cute istg

[jxerv]

suna x fem!reader, canon universe, fluff

masterlist

THE SNOW fell slowly and silently beyond the windowpanes, laying a white blanket over the rooftops and streets. The sky was a muffled gray, but inside [Y/n]’s house, the atmosphere was anything but cold. The soft lights of the Christmas decorations reflected on the walls in golden hues, the scent of cinnamon still lingered from a forgotten cup of tea on the nightstand, and the distant sound of a jazz playlist made everything feel even more intimate.

Suna Rintarou was lying on [Y/n]’s bed, surrounded by a multitude of plushies and colorful pillows that contrasted with his expressionless face and the gray hoodie he wore. He looked like a boy who had accidentally ended up in a room far too sweet for his minimalist style. But in truth, he felt perfectly at home there. With [Y/n], anywhere was home.

She was sitting on top of him, her legs straddling his waist, her back straight and her face slightly tilted forward in deep concentration. She held her tongue between her teeth, as she always did when she focused too hard on something, and in her right hand was a black liquid eyeliner.

“Rin, stay still, come on!” she huffed, without looking up.

“I am still.” he muttered, eyes still closed, his voice a little thick with sleepiness.

[Y/n] giggled, holding back a smile as she continued to draw a thin line at the corner of his right eye. That afternoon, she had seen a video online of a girl putting makeup on her boyfriend, and the idea had immediately struck her. She thought it would be adorable to do the same with Suna. And he had those sharp, slanted eyes that seemed made for eyeliner. It would be perfect.

And, as often happened, Suna hadn’t been able to say no to her.

“How much longer?” he asked, with the patience of someone used to these kinds of things.

“Almost done. I’m finishing the other eye. Don’t ruin it now.”

The brush trembled slightly when he let out a soft sigh, but [Y/n] managed to keep her hand steady. She made the final touches, then shifted a bit on her knees to get a better look, satisfied. His eyes were still closed. The contrast between his fair skin, sharp features, and the black eyeliner was even more beautiful than she had imagined.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

Suna obeyed.

For a moment, [Y/n] was silent, surprised by the result. His eyes looked even deeper, even sharper, as if that thin black line had framed them perfectly.

“Well?” he asked, placing his hands on her hips, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “How do I look?”

[Y/n] pouted dramatically, crossing her arms. “It’s not fair. It looks too good on you. Better than on me.”

Suna chuckled quietly, his chest rising slightly beneath her. [Y/n] collapsed on top of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his warm hoodie.

“It’s unfair. You’re the pretty one now.”

“Impossible.” he murmured, holding her tighter. “You’re way more pretty.”

As always when he gave her a compliment, [Y/n] felt her cheeks burn. She knew Suna wasn’t the type for big gestures, but when he spoke, it was with disarming honesty. And no matter how hard she tried to play it cool, she always ended up melting.

He kissed the top of her head lightly, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he closed his eyes.

“But now you have to take the makeup off,” he murmured against her hair. “or I’ll fall asleep like this and ruin all your pillows.”

She nodded quietly but didn’t move right away. They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, while the snow kept falling softly outside the window, and the clock on the nightstand ticked steadily. Every now and then, a plushie would fall off the bed from the slightest movement, but neither of them paid any attention.

Then [Y/n] got up slowly, sliding off the bed. She grabbed a makeup wipe from the drawer and climbed back onto him, wearing an expression like she was about to do something very serious.

“Okay. Brace yourself. This is going to feel gross.”

“Fantastic.” Suna muttered.

She laughed, gently wiping the eyeliner from his eyes. Suna squinted a bit, but said nothing. When [Y/n] finished, she sat next to him, looking at his face now back to normal.

“I think we need to do this again sometime.”

“Only if I get to do your makeup too.” he replied, pulling her back toward him. She let out a small surprised yelp as she fell onto the bed, ending up in her boyfriend’s arms, her face pressed against his chest.

“Hey, I do my makeup every day!” she protested, trying to wriggle free.

“Yeah, but I have to be the one doing it. Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”

[Y/n] laughed, giving up. They stayed like that for a while longer, until the Christmas lights began blinking in a different pattern, signaling it was evening. The room was full of warmth, the scent of cinnamon, and the quiet certainty of a simple love.

Suna nestled deeper into the pillows and closed his eyes, this time for real.

“Nap time?” he asked, his voice muffled.

[Y/n] curled up against him, her legs tangled with his. “Yeah. But tomorrow I’m putting lipstick on you.”

He didn’t answer right away, burying his face into the pillows. “Do whatever you want.”

wc: 923

[jxerv]

Welcome to my Inarizaki masterlist!

SUNA RINTAROU

Eyeliner — One shot, fluff

Back to the teams masterlist

[jxerv]

Aoba Johsai masterlist!

Iwaizumi Hajime

Cute — one shot, fluff

Lovesick — fanfic, fluff

Kyotani Kentaro

Ramune soda — one shot, fluff

Back to the teams masterlist