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makki0s · 4 months ago

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𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an exposé on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

#giggling and kicking my feet james my beloved #leles reading recs !

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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chatgpt is the coward's way out. if you have a paper due in 40 minutes you should be chugging six energy drinks, blasting frantic circus music so loud you shatter an eardrum, and typing the most dogshit essay mankind has ever seen with your own carpel tunnel laden hands

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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Can you do some more body language descriptions? For different emotions like Worry, sadness, love, etc!! Ty🩷🩷

Body Language Descriptions

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Worry

She wrung her hands together, her fingers twisting nervously as she struggled to keep her thoughts in check.

He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze darting anxiously around the room.

She pulled at her sleeve, the movement repetitive and absentminded as her mind raced.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a habit that betrayed his inner turmoil.

They hugged their arms tightly across their chest, as if trying to hold themselves together.

She paced the room, her steps quick and uneven as she tried to shake off the nagging sense of dread.

Sadness

She wiped at her eyes, even though no tears had fallen yet.

He let his shoulders sag, his whole body slumping as if the weight of the world rested on him.

She clutched her scarf tightly, her fingers gripping the fabric like it was the only thing grounding her.

He kept his head low, staring at the ground as if afraid to meet anyone’s eyes.

They let out a shaky exhale, the sound heavy with unspoken grief.

She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Love

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile soft and shy as she met his gaze.

He brushed her hand lightly, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

They leaned closer, their knees nearly touching, as if drawn together by an invisible force.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression tender and full of quiet affection.

He laughed easily, the sound warm and unguarded, his gaze never leaving her face.

She reached out to fix his collar, her fingers lingering as she adjusted it carefully.

Guilt

He avoided her eyes, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

She rubbed her temples, her hands trembling.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to stay still.

She clasped her hands tightly behind her back, her knuckles white as she fought to remain composed.

They bit their lower lip, their jaw tightening.

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his movements jerky and hesitant.

Fear

She took a step back, her breath quickening as her eyes darted to the nearest exit.

He clenched the fabric of his shirt over his chest, as if trying to steady his pounding heart.

She froze in place, her body stiff and her movements tentative, like a deer caught in headlights.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as he fought to calm himself.

They pressed their back against the wall, their hands splayed out.

She whispered under her breath, her words shaky and barely audible.

Jealousy

He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening as his gaze followed her every move.

She tapped her foot impatiently, the rhythm sharp and irritated as she forced a smile.

He clenched his fists at his sides, the tension in his knuckles betraying his calm demeanor.

She cast a sideways glance, her lips pressed into a thin line.

They shifted in their seat, their shoulders stiff.

He ran his fingers through his hair, his movements brisk and frustrated as he fought to contain his thoughts.

Relief

She exhaled deeply, her shoulders dropping as the tension melted away.

He ran a hand down his face, his smile faint but unmistakably genuine.

She laughed shakily, her hand pressed to her chest as if trying to steady her racing heart.

He slumped against the nearest chair, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him up.

They let their head fall back, their eyes closing as a soft, contented sigh escaped their lips.

She smiled faintly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the surface of the table as the weight lifted from her mind.

Embarrassment

She tugged at the collar of her shirt, her cheeks flushing as she avoided everyone’s gaze.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his lips twitching into an awkward, forced smile.

She bit her lip, her hands fluttering nervously.

He let out a strained laugh, scratching the side of his head.

They hid their face in their hands, peeking out between their fingers with a sheepish grin.

She stumbled over her words, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt as her cheeks burned bright red.

#leles writing prompts !

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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‧₊˚ 🫂 ✩ things to do for someone

¹⁾ fixing their tie

²⁾ tucking them into bed

³⁾ doing up their seatbelt

⁴⁾ tying their shoelaces

⁵⁾ opening their car door

⁶⁾ pulling out their chair for them

⁷⁾ buying them flowers

⁸⁾ reminding them to take their medication

⁹⁾ encouraging their hobbies

¹⁰⁾ cooking them dinner

¹¹⁾ washing their hair

¹²⁾ remembering all their details

¹³⁾ laying a blanket over them when they fall asleep on the sofa

¹⁴⁾ making their tea/coffee just how they like it

¹⁵⁾ defending their name when they’re not present

¹⁶⁾ letting them sleep in

¹⁷⁾ packing them lunch

¹⁸⁾ cutting them off at the bar

¹⁹⁾ doing the household chores they hate

²⁰⁾ helping them shave

²¹⁾ taking care of them when they’re sick

²²⁾ celebrating their accomplishments, regardless of significance

²³⁾ keeping their favourite foods at your place

²⁴⁾ getting up in the middle of the night to fetch them water

²⁵⁾ grabbing them a heatpack

²⁶⁾ fixing their cufflinks

²⁷⁾ helping them bathe

²⁸⁾ cooking them dishes from home

²⁹⁾ taking off their shoes

³⁰⁾ picking them up from a bar

³¹⁾ giving them a massage after a long day

³²⁾ running them a bath

³³⁾ patching up their injuries

³⁴⁾ helping them get dressed when their arm’s in a sling

³⁶⁾ reading to them

³⁷⁾ giving them your jacket when it’s cold out

³⁸⁾ planning dates/hangouts

³⁹⁾ crashing on the floor/couch so they can have the bed

⁴⁰⁾ taking blame so they don’t have to

⁴¹⁾ being their designated driver

⁴²⁾ valuing their creations

⁴³⁾ letting them rant

⁴⁴⁾ taking them on late-night drives to ease their mind

⁴⁵⁾ surprising them with little gifts

⁴⁶⁾ pushing them behind you

⁴⁷⁾ walking closest to the road

⁴⁸⁾ taking care of tasks for them

⁴⁹⁾ making appointments

⁵⁰⁾ baking for them

#leles writing prompts !

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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pick your poison LMAOOO

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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I'm, above all else, a tangentgirl. always saying shit like "sidenote," "oh also," "by the way,"

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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sorry i'm being an absent friend i'm being an absent self too

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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too many people write jily as the mature ‘parents of the group’ couple and while i do like that dynamic too i will unfortunately be writing them as their true calling (freak x freak)

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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You're too full of life to be half loved by someone.

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makki0s · 4 months ago

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hopeless.

kuroo tetsurou x reader oneshot, fluff, friends to lovers. crossposted on ao3 as higashikatas.

You’ve always said Kuroo Tetsurou has the look of a man who’d be hopeless in the kitchen and it’s always been a hit when you say so.

The first time, sandwiched between Akaashi and Kenma in the booth of the new okonomiyaki restaurant, as you watched Yaku yell at Tetsurou over having burnt the savory pancake again. Akaashi had burst into silent, shaking laughter, and Kenma had snorted loudly into the back of his hand. Bokuto, after noticing the amusement on the other side of the table, had demanded to be let in on the fun; you’d repeated yourself, and he had agreed as well, loudly hooting with amusement. Tetsurou had sighed and rolled his eyes, before telling you you’d eat those words one day. You remember raising an eyebrow at that and dissolving into laughter after Kenma murmured that words might still be the only Kuroo could ever make someone eat.

The next time you say so is when you see the homemade chocolate-covered strawberries Tetsurou brings you the first time he asks you out.

They’re objectively the ugliest-looking ones you’ve ever seen. The chocolate is lumpy, and there are bald patches all over where it apparently did not stick to the fruit. In addition, they’ve also somehow frozen unevenly; half the fruit is mushy to the touch and the other half is rock solid. Your heart still fills with warmth at the sight and you throw your arms around his neck, giddy with joy that your first love feels the same way as you. And as off-putting as the strawberries do look, they taste perfect. You eat every single one (despite your little brothers’ best efforts to swipe a couple) and you swear no fruit has ever tasted better.

Two years later, you and Tetsurou are baking a cake to celebrate your favorite teacher’s retirement. He’s excited, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, all dressed up in one of your mother’s pink aprons. You’re wearing a matching green one and carefully line up the wet and dry ingredients in two neat rows. Sift the flour and cocoa powder, you instruct, and devote your concentration to breaking the eggs and beating in the melted butter and vanilla essence.

A clang. The empty metal mixing bowl rolls doleful circles on the kitchen floor and your boyfriend gives you a sheepish smile.

You almost lose your balance with laughter, before giving him a damp rag to wipe the cocoa-powder-flour-mixture off his face and arms. Hopeless in the kitchen indeed, you tease, and he throws the rag at you.

Fast-forward a year and a half later, to after high school graduation. You, Kuroo, Yaku and Kai are back in your usual booth at the same okonomiyaki restaurant, which had quickly risen to the Nekoma team’s top three after-practice dinner spot. Four diplomas are piled haphazardly on Yaku and Kai’s side of the booth and everyone agrees not to let Tetsurou touch the hot plate. None of you want to spring for another, even with all the money you’ve each gotten for graduation presents. Tetsurou pretends to sulk for a few minutes, but gives in after you laugh and force the corners of his mouth upward to form a smile with your fingers. He even laughs when Yaku asks if there was any flame other than a Bunsen burner Kuroo had ever not caused chaos over.

Two years later, you and Tetsurou are poring over the tiny newspaper print, looking for affordable studio apartments. He’s halfway through his dual-major course of study (sports science and marketing) and you are about to begin the specialized half of your medical degree. He complains that everything with a kitchen is ten times more expensive than everything without, and you remind your boyfriend that humans require food to survive. You’re both too busy to be cooking all three meals, Tetsurou argues back. You’re both too broke to do anything otherwise, you rebut, and he caves. He does crack a joke about how he might blow the building up if he spends too long around the stove, though, when you two finally sign a lease.

The fifth year of medical school marks the beginning of a string of long, unpaid intern hours. You stagger into the apartment every night too tired to even think about spending another extra hour standing in the kitchen. Tetsurou spends each night massaging your feet as you chew through lunch leftovers. The both of you daydream of the comforts of home-cooked food and vow to never take your mother and grandmother respectively for granted again.

Tetsurou lands his job at the Japan Volleyball Association almost immediately after his graduation. You’re so proud of him you could burst, you tell him as you pepper kisses all over his face, and scream as he grins and tells you that his hiring bonus is just large enough to pay for three months’ worth of rent at a two-bedroom apartment in a significantly prettier part of Tokyo.

You’ll miss your little studio and the memories crammed into every inch as tightly as the furniture, but your heart swells against your ribs as Tetsurou pulls you through the new apartment. The new apartment is everything you could’ve dreamed of sharing with him, you say, and he kisses the top of your head.

Now that Tetsurou is a self-declared corporate man, his hours end before yours every night- not that that means he isn’t being run ragged as well, but just that he can report unfair work conditions and you cannot. The two of you begin new traditions; he greets you with a warm bath every night and washes your back while you close your eyes and mumble the ways you wish you could make your supervisor suffer. He dutifully helps you plot revenge, wraps you in a fuzzy bathrobe, and feeds you dinner on the couch, while hushing your apologies about not having contributed anything to the household that day. You do your best to swallow the feeling of guilt and let yourself be taken care of.

The first time Tetsurou greets you with a fresh non-takeout-meal is after a particularly horrid practical exam. You barely make it home, vision blurred with unshed tears and your supervisor’s shouted criticism still ringing in your ears five hours later. You sit quietly through the bath and if Tetsurou senses that something is wrong, he says nothing and kisses your shoulder extra tenderly. When you are finally propped up on the couch in all your fluffy glory, he tells you that he’s done something slightly different for dinner today. It’s something he’s never done before, he says nervously, and asks you not to hold back any criticism.

You sit up a little straighter after the first spoon of soup hits your tongue. Tetsurou swallows, asking if it seems alright. You nod slowly, asking him where he bought it from. It’s some of the best soup you’ve had in years; flavors unfamiliar but still achingly comforting. When he shyly tells you that he’d actually made the soup himself, the tears finally spill.

Unlike five hours ago, they are happy ones.

Emboldened from the soup success, Tetsurou’s homemade dinners slowly become a new tradition in the apartment. Attempting to guess what the experiment of the day will be purely from the smell greeting you turns into your new favorite game. On free weekends, you meal prep for the rest of the week with him, settling into a blissful kitchen harmony. Sometimes, he even has a thing or two to teach you.

You graduate with your medical degree a year and a half later. Tetsurou cries as you step into your white coat on the stage and shake hands with your dean, and firmly denies it later. One of your brothers has it on camera, though, and you secretly text him to send it to you later.

After the noisy celebratory dinner with the rest of your family, the apartment is just the perfect level of peaceful. You perch on a kitchen stool, chattering lightly about how relieved you feel about finally being out from under your supervisor’s traumatizing thumb, while Tetsurou plates two small slices of chocolate cake. This, he explains while pushing a fork to you, is the closest he’s ever come to an original recipe.

As with all of Tetsurou’s cooking, the flavors are simple and strong. They remind you much of the man himself, you think, and tell him that it really is the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had. He beams at you, having already inhaled his own portion.

Then your fork strikes against something buried in the slice.

Your heart swells against your ribs again when you manage to carefully dig up the ring. It’s beautiful, you tell Tetsurou, who is already knelt in position. You see the tears from the graduation ceremony reappearing at the corners of his eyes, and you feel like you might reciprocate that in a few minutes.

Your high school self was still half correct about Tetsurou all those years ago. Hopeless in the kitchen? More like a hopeless romantic.

#leles reading recs !#I LOVR TOU #I LOVE YOU KUROO TETSUROU YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS #haikyuu!!

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