#needed to scribble silly before i lost my mind thanks

[cozylittleartblog]

certified autism post

[pogidoow]

i don’t know if you do one shots but either way, i’d love to know when/how soap learned how frost prefers her coffee :-)

What a sweet request!!! Thank you <3

A/N: For some reason, I always feel like all my one shots lack something, so I don't really write them. But an attempt was made

Type: extra content for Frozen

Summary: Soap takes a liking to his newly arrived teammate. In an effort to get to know her, he observes her morning routine.

Word count: 808

CW: fluff, mention of loss

"We'll get right into it then--" Price's voice slowly muted itself out of Soap's ears as he watched you make yourself coffee on the other side of the room. His eyes followed your hands as you got the coffee out of the cupboard, enjoying the soft movements as if watching an art performance. His mind even played quiet background music that was occasionally interrupted by Price's raspy voice.

Every now and again, he'd look down at the worn-out surface of the table, scribbling in his journal as if taking notes of the meeting, then discretely bring his warm gaze back to your focused form.

Seeing you in such a different element, so off guard and comfortable, made him even more drawn to you than he already was. From the moment you met, he noticed your eyes had an entirely different story to tell than the one everyone heard about. You were a mystery to him, one only he wanted to solve.

He's been shamelessly watching you for three days now and each time, the first thing you'd do was bring the bag of ground coffee close to your face, close your eyes and take in its strong aroma. This part of your coffee-making process quickly became his favorite because each time, without fail, that moment would draw out a tiny smile on your face.

By the fifth day his mindless scribbling turned into a tiny sketch of your favorite coffee mug to which he added a small snowflake symbol. Below it, a short list of instructions followed, including the "smell the coffee first" step at the beginning.

After you lost Bo, for a while, your routine had stopped and you decided that coffee from the vending machine would have to do. Just when Soap finally felt like he was starting to figure you out, you changed again. However, he understood where your change of heart was coming from. Losing Bo in the way you did must've been horrible for you and the only thing that was on his mind was to be there for you in any way you'd let him.

So, on one random morning, he got up earlier than usual, took his journal with him and made his way to the kitchen. Sifting through the many pages of his journal, he stopped at the one that had your favorite mug drawn on it and carefully started following the instructions.

With your coffee burning his palm, he made his way to the vending machine and leaned on it under an angle, awkwardly fixing his position to look as attractive as he could while doing so. A cheeky and risky move, but he was sure it would work.

After about a minute of readjusting himself, the metal double door across from him opened, revealing your tired form that was comfortably drowning in an oversized tracksuit. Finally detaching your gaze from the floor, you noticed him in that silly position and couldn’t help but to smile immediately as you skeptically observed him in a silent stare off.

"What are you doing?" you asked once you approached him, another smile sneaking in-between the words.

He didn't reply, instead he put his open palm out to you with the corners of his lips sneakily lifting.

With furrowed brows, your gaze traveled to his palm then back to his face, "Do you need money for the machine? I'll get it for you. What do you want?"

"Bloody hell." his head bobbed to the side at your cluelessness, his smile turning into a charmed chuckle, "Just give me the money, will ye?"

Acting clueless, you squinted hesitantly before putting a few coins in his hand.

Still rolling his eyes at how oblivious of his joke you were, he sang "Ka-ching!" as he handed you your mug.

You took the mug without taking your eyes off him, "Not sure what just happened but thank you."

"Are you taking the piss right now?" he asked irritably but in a humorous manner then went on a passionate rent explaining the simple brilliance of his plan while you stared at him with a huge smile on your face as the plan of your own worked perfectly.

He immediately stopped once he caught your smile, "You're pulling my leg in? Aren't ye?" he shook his head, looking above you into the distance, amused by your reciprocated antics.

"The coffee is delicious." you complimented teasingly as both of you started walking towards the common room, "Might have to drink it every morning." you alluded as your eyes locked, neither of you paying attention to what was in front of you.

The tension only grew stronger at the moment of unspoken yearning, making him awkwardly laugh and break eye contact.

"Unbelievable, ye are." he chuckled as he opened the door for you, letting you in with another head shake.

[crowned-ladybug]

For the writing asks, 8, 12, 21 for a fic of your choice, 40, and 47 for a fic of your choice because I think it's such a silly fun question!

Thank you!! <3

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

I don't write nor read songfics nowadays but in terms of inspiration? Rubs my evil lil hands together. I love every excuse to throw songs at ppl

last to fall by starset, bc there's too many fics about ppl kissing and not enough fics about whatever the fuck is going on here featuring something ancient and lonely and benevolent

summer skeletons by radical face, which Yes i Have in fact used lyrics from as a title before, but like. the vibes. gimme fic with these vibes. this is what your childhood friends AU should feel like whether it's about lifelong friends or friends-to-strangers or whatever else

pay no rent by turnpike troubadours, with the knowledge that this song is about the artist's cool aunt so i need this to be Specifically applied to platonic/familial relationships for fic pls and thank you

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

I don't have a grand one for this bc for the life of me i can't recall doing a complete 180° on a trope like this, But: fake dating/fake married

Not bc i used to Hate it and now i Love it but more bc it turns out it's not all annoying always, the problem is that every damn fake relationship fic i met for years and years was specifically focused on awkwardness and pining and kissing for practice and then having to make a whole deal out of fake-breaking-up and-

Well turns out if it's instead about two ppl who, regardless of whether they harbour romantic feelings for the other or not, are having a grand ole time running this con they embarked on for the sake of necessity/spite/financial gain/what have you, it can be entertaining as hell. You just gotta write it right. It's not about the awkwardness and the miscommunication, it's about being an impossible lil shit

(The only two examples I had any hand in from the past idk how many years are unfortunately deep in the depths of my DMs with Dima, but trust me. We did it justice)

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in so here's to believing in ghosts, what would it be?

Simply the first fic to come to mind with an actual answer, let's go

It'd be one of the very, Very few times Rafe found Nate, survived the encounter, and the two of them stuck together for a lil while. Because i feel like wherever that could've gone could've been Interesting, but it unfortunately didn't make the cut for the sake of the already bloated as hell scene count and the flow i was Trying to achieve

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

I am Big on rereading, both my own stuff, stuff of ppl I know, and select fics by strangers that Live In My Brain. I only started actually using ao3 bookmarks Very recently so a lot of stuff is kinda just lost to me in that regard now, but yes, fics get reread A Whole Lot

47. If i don't know where (confused about how as well) was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

It's like a pair of old sneakers that you really should throw out by now but also keep justifying keeping bc like Technically they're still good for gardening or something okay, yes i know that the sides are cracked all the way down to the soles and the fabric is starting to tear out and some of the rings lining the holes the laces go in have come loose, and you never quite managed to get out the marker scribbles from that one time in class and- okay. Look. It's old as shit and falling apart and you're Emotionally Attached to it bc you wore it for Years so even if you never wear it again it can just sit on the shoerack or in a hallway cabinet or something until it crumbles to dust

Which is fitting considering "true and tried and covered in mud" is also a p good way to describe Raz and Lili's lifelong friendship in general

-

Questions list

[mypoisonedvine]

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."

[deluluass]

Then, the dam breaks.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; dacryphilia; mild infantilization

Kuroo's not a bad person. 

Not even by a long shot. "Bad" is willfully stretching out a leg, hidden like a predator among the bushes; hungry for an unknowing soul who's naively secured with their surroundings and the crack that resounds when face finally meets floor.

Or, murder! Murder is bad, he believes.  

No, Kuroo isn't capable of any of those things. He might seem like he has a mean streak about him. What, with his sharp tongue and that incorrigible self-satisfied smirk (according to Yaku) and his words that may or may not sting like a backhanded slap sometimes. But that's all in good humor. 

Well-deserved, too, when given to the right asshole. And if he does manage to get under the skin of the wrong person, Kuroo's not above offering an apology. 

And he means it. (Occasionally.)

There's no pleasure to be had, if anyone would ask. Because, again , he's not a bad guy. He's sly: he knows that much, though he wouldn't taunt someone into visible pain just for the thrill of it.

There's a method to all this. A purpose. Not a profound one, but a reason all the same. 

So he has to admit he's feeling kinda lost figuring out why, of all people, it just really had to be you. 

There wasn't much of an option to begin with.

Art clubs had already been full. The other ones, you weren't much interested in. And by the time you realized your homeroom teacher would stop at nothing to remind you that this year was your last chance to do something other than study and prepare for exams, for once— well, it had already been too late to reconsider joining those.

Then a flyer was handed out to you.

"V-volley," the boy trailed off. 

Try as you might but you couldn't recognize him. A feat, that, considering his blond mohawk that you could spot among a crowd of thousands. 

He seemed like he'd caught a nasty spell that prevented him from meeting anyone's eyes, even as you deliberately searched his face for any sign that he'd explain himself to you. Surely, he must have a lot to say after he'd outright ambushed you from entering the cafeteria. 

"You...want me to join?" 

You were on the verge of asking for more details, focusing on the black cat (though it didn't look like it) drawn on the center of the curiously damp paper, only to find out that you'd been conversing with an empty hallway. 

A soft grumble left you. 

"Weird," you concluded, barely a whisper. "Weird, weird, weird ."

You were the volleyball team's manager since then. 

"She's not much of a talker."

Lev hunched to his knees again, sounding very much like he's running out of breath.

It should've been Kuroo's cue to gently ( gently) tell him off, that Nekoma's ace would handle a minute of catching a ball with their face with much more tenacity than he does, or that Nekoma's ace shouldn't have to catch the ball with their face in the first place, period.

" Zoning out already, Ace? " he'd planned on jeering, but instead he followed the direction of the overgrown 10 year old's gaze. 

Someone was talking to you. 

Apologizing , was more like it, if the other student's incessant bowing until his torso fell from his body was any indication. You were outside of the gym, clipboard tucked under an arm, so it was impossible to catch a word you were saying.

Not that you were saying much. Or anything at all. You only nodded. And nodded again. And after what seemed like the world's loudest "I'm so sorry, senpai!",you immediately went back inside to refill the water bottles lined atop the bench. 

"Hey," Kenma sighed, the ball in his hand aimed for a toss. "Focus."

And the cycle of Lev being an utter disappointment to the blond setter continued. 

Kuroo let out a noncommittal hum, eyes never leaving you, trailing like a lost pup as you handed out water bottles to Nobuyuki and the others. 

"Not a talker, huh," he muttered to himself. 

How long has it been? Two weeks? Three, maybe? Kuroo could scarcely remember for how many days you'd been showing up to this sweaty pit to perform your duties. On the dot. Always. Without fail. 

What he does remember was the first day.

Chin up; head held high. You strutted into their lives as if you were leading an entire militia to battle and had no time to waste.  

He teased you for it when you'd already busied yourself with clean up duty a few minutes after your (short) ( extremely concise) introduction.

("Slow down there, general," he told you with a wry chuckle. He expected any reaction from you, really.)

(He just didn't expect you to actually slow down on your cleaning and pick up on the Coach's remaining paperwork right then and there, going through it like a forest fire.)

It would take him a few more days to realize that that's just how you are. 

Even when you rejected a tongue-tied Yamamoto when he tried to ask you out. For a meal. With the other boys, of course.

Even when you took a hurtling ball to your leg and lost your footing and had the whole team scrambling for a stretcher, only for you to stand on your good leg, tell everyone "I'm okay," and walk to the nurse's office on your own.

(Kuroo doesn't think he's seen someone limp with so much grace before.)

His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Water . Water was what he needed. 

Right. 

You didn't see him coming from across the court. You were sitting on the bench and your back was turned, scribbling on that clipboard propped on your lap, yet— like clockwork, your idle hand shot out to give him the last bottle to your left before he could even finish asking for one.

He felt his lips curve as he muttered his thanks around the lid.

"Say," Kuroo began.  

You were reading the things you wrote back to yourself. 

"Mind telling me what was that about?"

You paused. You blinked up at Kuroo. 

The attention hits him like a freight train. 

That clear as summer sky gaze, unclouded and bright. 

It's nuts how unreal it felt. How can something so elusive be now all on him. 

(Just for him.)

"Earlier," he added, licking his lips and feeling silly for the way his chest tightened. "Seemed kinda intense."

"He borrowed my notes," you said. Then back to the clipboard again. 

Kuroo made himself comfortable next to you, elbow propped on his knee as he rested his chin against an open palm.

"Got a test coming up?"

"Cram school. He's in the same class."

Of course .

"Of course," Kuroo grinned. "What happened? Heard the guy apologize to you like you were about to kill him."

Laughter bubbled out of his chest. Unfortunately, you didn't seem to find it as funny as he did. Pity. 

He sighed.

"Nothing too bad, I hope."  

The noise of ballpoint pen scratching against paper halted. 

From way at the back, Lev was prattling Kenma's ear off again. Kuroo guessed they were about to leave, walking away from the court, away from the gym and to god knows where. The whole team, too, for that matter.

Everyone seemed to have gone, diminished in that second. He couldn't hear them anymore, didn't bother to see if they're still there.

He was looking at you, after all. Really looking at you. Your grip on the pen was a tad severe, he thought; fingers determined to squeeze the ink out of the barrel. 

Your face betrayed nothing. Indeed, anyone could spare you a glance and immediately guess that this is just another empty chat between acquainted individuals, conversation just for the sake of it. 

Kuroo wasn't just anyone, though.

Chin up and head held high; as you'd always done. But Kuroo's close enough to see it now, unlike before: the gulps you take in between breaths; the falter in those eyes that only ever looked forward.

Chin up and head held high, but Kuroo sees now that the neck he could easily break with one hand is so tense it's essentially a string pulled too tight that's on the brink of snapping. 

Oh.

"Oh," Kuroo whispered.

Oh .

"He lost it didn't he?" Kuroo realized. "Your notes."

And it did snap.

"Just..!" You looked down and bunched your pants in your fist. "No. Of course not. It's nothing," you huffed, putting the ball pen's cap back on. 

You were leaving.

Kuroo stood up.

"You look upset, manager-san," he said softly, his larger frame blocking your attempts of escape. "It is bothering you, hm?"

"My notebook got-got ruined, sure," you said. "But juice stains aren't bothering me, Captain ."

There it is. You were meeting his gaze again. 

" Too late for that ," Kuroo thought. There's a stutter to your words when there had been none. 

Your arms are trembling and you look  uncomfortable. He should stop. He knows he should stop , but whatever it is he said is chipping away at that impenetrable wall and he doesn't get what's happening now but damn, damn if that tingle running down his spine doesn't feel so fucking good. 

"My bad," he chuckled. "Sorry."

He raised both his arms in a show of defeat. 

"I'm- it's fine," you said through gritted teeth. "If you would just— excuse me."

Kuroo shrugged a shoulder. 

"Sorry about your notes, still," he said. "Must've been important to you. We all know how much you take your studies very, very seriously." 

Kuroo smirked. "You shouldn't have let him have it then." 

That made you stop in your tracks. 

"What do you mean?" you sought, confusion breaking your voice into what sounds like the smallest it's ever been.

Kuroo felt his breath catch in his throat.

"He needed my help, though," you rushed. "I can't just turn people away." 

"Really?" Kuroo sniggered, eyebrows lifting in fascination. 

"Could've sworn you were good at it," he said; whispered it so lowly, you couldn't have heard it. But you did.

You heard him, all right. Loud and clear.

Because it was just like watching someone take a bullet to the heart. 

First, the disbelief. 

Skin, muscles, and ligaments weren't made to be broken like that. A person wasn't created to bleed to death. And when it happens, well, all one can ask is: how could someone hurt me like this? 

So you stand before him, immobile, disbelief written in those wide eyes, because how could he hurt me like this?

Then—

Then, the dam breaks.

Kuroo doesn't think that you know it; that you're gaping at him with tears streaming down your face; that you're falling apart and stripping yourself bare the more you try to temper those quivering lips with that cute little nibbling you do.  

Kuroo doesn't think you know it, too.

That no one has ever been as beautiful as you are, right in that very moment.

You're not a good person.

Not even by a long shot. "Good" is an open hand, warm and soft and prepared to accept anyone in need of it. It's many things, goodness, but it most certainly isn't a dismissive attitude towards a well-meaning person who only wants to get to know you.

You hadn't gone this far in your uneventful life ignorant of what people say behind your back. "Frigid" is one. "Indifferent" on a good day. "Bitch" when someone feels like being mean. 

It's not like you're mad or anything; not as if you'd built up some sort of resentment within you that now you've settled for being perpetually friendless. You have plans, is all. You just can't afford to be a constant helping hand when you've got so much to do.

So you take it. 

Be a sport about it, was what you've always been told. Stiff upper lip, as they say. You remain silent about it and you endure and maybe you shed a few tears later as you lie in bed and maybe you entertain the possibility that you'll never see the end of this loneliness. 

But that's neither here nor there.

The point is, this time shouldn't have been any different.

(But sometimes even the strongest walls can crumble. All it takes is one crack, then the rest would follow.)

It was a bad day. 

You woke up late. You messed up the tally in the first set of practice games. You forgot the homework you'd stayed up all night to do. 

And the person whom you've lended your notes to for the college entrance exams lost it. 

He lost it. Conveniently just a month before the actual thing. 

"I- It's nowhere to be found, senpai," he explained. "I tried looking for it everywhere but- but I.." (You don't remember the rest.)

It's fine, you told yourself. You're fine. You can do something about a little inconvenience like this. You always have.

But then Kuroo Tetsurou asked. 

He's an amazing captain; even someone like you who only had a rudimentary knowledge at volleyball could understand the level of skill it requires to do what he does on the court while still managing to reign in the polarizing characters in this team together. And like most people, Kuroo Tetsurou has never cared for you. 

That's what you'd always thought, concerning him. Even when there had been times when he'd let slip what he thought about you. ("You're so cold, manager-san," he pouted once after you'd refused to eat with Yamamoto and the others.)

So it blindsided you, to say the least. 

The way he looked at you, as if he's privy to your darkest secrets, like he's seen you at your lowest and somehow knows you more than you did. 

When he'd jabbed and poked at what you'd only later realize was already a festering wound. (" It is bothering you, hm?" he said.) And before you could think about telling him to stop, to please, please let it go, it had already happened.

(" Could've sworn you were good at it ," he said.) 

This isn't news to you. Besides, there have obviously been worse digs. 

But hearing it from people who think you're not listening and being told about it to your face are two vastly different things. 

(Maybe it's because deep inside you'd always hoped that not everyone disliked you. That even though you're not a good person, you're not entirely bad either.)

Right in front of you, swift and without warning, he spoke only the truth.

You just weren't prepared for how deep it could cut. 

"I have to go," you murmured.

It took you a few seconds to realize that you'd been crying. And when you did, you immediately wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, turning away from him and the others still engrossed in their drills.

You let your feet do the thinking, allowing it to take you wherever they wished to go ( not here. not here. anywhere but here ), finding it impossible to do so yourself when your vision is clouded with welling tears. 

You moved forward, never once looked back, until you ended up inside the stark darkness of the gym's forgotten neighbor. 

The shed has long been abandoned and had nothing but dust, a couple of furniture in disrepair, and the occasional bug to keep it company. It was good enough for you. You didn't need much anyway.

Except for silence. 

The breaths that you'd desperately tried to control shook like dried leaves hanging onto frail branches, much like your legs, eventually collapsing at the slightest gust of wind. 

All you needed was silence.

Crouched down, the feeling of bones reduced to jelly was a lot more palpable. And despite the pins and needles that you know would eventually appear like a vengeful mistress, you stubbornly pressed your knees closer to your damp face.

Stuttering inhales and short-lived exhales  soon enough filled the gnawing emptiness of the shed as you count back to the moment you'd started the day to when your classmate told you that he'd lost your notebook to when you'd been told of how much of a shitty person you are and you wonder how you would've changed your decisions and how could it have gotten to this point how could it go wrong like this what did I do what did I do wrong what went —

"There you are."

You clamped your mouth shut, clenched your teeth so hard to stop their chattering. How useless. 

The creaking noise of the door being closed— punctuated by the sound of the latch clicking, rendered that effort futile. 

Kuroo Tetsurou locked the door.   

"C-can you," you panted. "Can you please leave."

"I need some time alone," you said, every beat of your heart like the ticking clock of a time bomb. "Please." 

You waited for him to do as you'd told. Maybe what happened earlier was a mistake, a slip of tongue that hurt more than it should've, and he's here to apologize. Of course. That's it, isn't it? Why else would he be here?

"I- If you want to say something, we can- we can— later." 

It was as if the entire world had gone still. He said nothing; neither could you hear any hint of movement. You turned around.

"C-captain..!"

He was right there. 

Right in front of you, crouched and staring right back at you. His face a hair's breadth away from yours. 

Your legs shot upwards. 

"What are you- ah !" You hissed, feeling every cell in your body being incessantly pricked. Finding it impossible to stand on your own, your hands scrambled to get a hold of something, anything, maybe the almost dilapidated table behind you— only to be caught in between large, strong arms.

"Careful, now," he murmured against your neck. His scalding breath like frostbite, chilling you down to your bones until you were numbed from the pain.

He slithered a hand around your waist. With blood thundering to your ears, you bit back a shriek and pushed him away with all your might. But have you forgotten? Despite that indolent swagger of his, you've witnessed how this boy pushes himself to exertion for each match and beyond. What made you think you could win against him? 

And when you attempted to open your mouth and yell, he effortlessly covered it with a palm while hauling you towards the table. The thing rocked under your weight. It is amusing, what the fear of falling does to you. One moment you're thrashing your way out; the next, you're holding onto your tormentor for dear life.

"No one's gonna come for you." He shushed you like how one would when placating a rabid animal. "You really believe they would bother? With an attitude like that?"

Down, down, his hand sank to your thigh, kneading the aching flesh until all you could do was mewl out a hoarse, "S-stop. I beg y-you."

Because it's all that's left for you. No one's going to save you. Or maybe someone would. But, who? And would they, really? 

(Go on, then. Try. See for yourself.)

"Kuroo-san," you whimpered. " S-stop ."

(Would they even believe you? It's your word against his. Him . Their beloved captain.)

"Tetsurou," he only said, dipping his hand lower, wrapping your freezing legs around him. "Say it."

He's everywhere. Lips tracing your chin, teeth grazing your throat; all the while your weak, pathetic arms stayed on his shoulders, thinking he'd regain his senses because he has to. He has to. He's not a bad person. He wouldn't hurt you, not in that way. 

Even when rough palms are already caressing the sides of your breasts and you feel a bulge rutting against your stomach, hot and rock hard and large, his hands grabbing your ass to bring your crotch closer to his—

"Cap- Tetsurou!" You cried, trembling hands back on his chest as you sobbed and pleaded please, please, let me go, I won't say anything, I-I'll keep quiet .

He did stop. But he didn't let you go. (You're a stupid girl if you think he would). Instead, with a forefinger under your chin and a thumb on your lower lip, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze. 

And when your murky vision adjusted to the shadows, the heart that wanted to escape from your chest ceased its clamoring, arresting your breath with it.

The afternoon sun peeked through the crevices of the shed's wooden walls. Red-orange light revealed a pair of iris swallowed by blown pupils, only for it to pass and shroud him back into the darkness. 

"Say it again," he whispered, deep voice cracking. " Tetsurou . My name."

You tried to speak and protest once again but only a croaked snivel left you, your babbling becoming less coherent when he began planting soft kisses on both tear-streaked cheeks. 

"You've been all alone, haven't you? Keeping everything to yourself all this time."

He kissed your forehead and it was so tender you wanted to die. 

"My strong, brave girl," he breathed. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you. I- I-"

You heard him chuckle as he pressed his forehead to yours, felt it crease on your skin. "I love you."

No. No, no, no . You shook your head and closed your eyes and prayed to anyone who's listening. 

"I love you," he repeated, strongly now, as if he only realized it this time around. 

And then he kissed you. Just a peck. And then he kissed you again, deepening it to probe a wet tongue into your mouth. And the hand sitting lax on your neck felt like a gun to your temple.   

You remained just as you were, like a plaything to do with as he pleased, as you felt calloused fingers creep inside your sweaty shirt.

"Such pretty tits," he grunted as he raised your bra over your breasts to brush your nipples, rolling and pinching and pulling them with his thumbs.

He muffled the noises you made with his own mouth still when he continued fondling you. You soon enough tasted the salt off of his palm when he left your lips to lick and pepper bites on your neck, on the valley and mounds of your breasts, sucking and lapping the stiff peaks until he was satisfied.

You tried counting, one to whatever. And when that did not work, you tried biting your own tongue to rid of the heat you fear would burst in your belly. 

All that went to waste when he reached inside your pants. 

"Not- not there!" you gasped, breaking your silence and wriggling out of his grasp.

He cooed. "You'll feel good. I promise."

After hooking long fingers over the hem of your panties, he briskly parted the hair and lips underneath to pull the thin cotton over the folds, over the throbbing nub trapped in the middle. 

"Your pussy's so wet, sweetheart," he sighed, the tip of his middle finger drawing light circles on your clothed clit. 

It was so lewd and dirty and the fact that your panties were soaked with slick was enough to burn you with shame.

"You like it, hm?" 

Perhaps you whimpered out a meek "no." You couldn't tell anymore, heaving out while he continued to toy with a sore nipple as he rubbed your slippery cunt, preying on your puffed out, swollen clit.  

"Feel what you do to me." He squeezed your wrist and forced your shivering hand on his crotch. "Take out my cock, baby," he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck.

"Tet-Tetsuro…san," you cried. "I can- I can't."

"Yes. Yes, you can ," he said, not halting the ministrations between your legs. "You're a big girl."

As if held by a string, he guided you, wrapped his hand around yours as he— as you stroked him, scorching and thick, up and down, just like that . 

"Good girl. My good little girl," he groaned, parting your panties to the side to tease your dripping hole. 

You wept harder, the inevitable only a few seconds away from you. A single finger, at first. And when he added a second one, you realized you preferred having a hand on your mouth than his lips on yours.

(Because then you wouldn't have to think of an excuse why you're suddenly swirling and brushing your tongue in time with his.) 

For a while there had been nothing but the sound of two wet lips pursing against each other (along with those embarrassing squelching noises). 

He treated you as if you were made of porcelain, your plush walls stroked oh so gently as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he ended the kiss and removed your hand from his cock, spit and pre-cum connecting you to him, he still handled you as if you would break at the drop of a hat.

That's why it snuck up on you, what happened, after he brought his mouth to your ear.

"Don't scream," he whispered. 

Then, he rammed his fingers in your mouth. 

You tasted yourself as he forced you on your back, slamming you down on the dirty table yet still carrying your weight all throughout, never letting go.

The bitter acceptance of it— that what began earlier can only conclude to this , did not prepare you for the feeling when he finally thrust himself into you.

They say it shouldn't hurt at first. If it does then he's doing it wrong. 

You hardly know if it's relief or horror that dawns on you when you realize how he stretched you out so easily, despite his size. Because, by all means, this should be wrong. This is wrong. 

"Gonna ruin you," he panted. "Gonna ruin you and— fuck put you back together myself."

He grinded his cock inside you deep and slow and when he hit that spot you couldn't control yourself from jackknifing so hard he had to hold you down. He does this mercilessly, pace growing more delirious until you're nothing but a choked and sputtering fool around his fingers.

"I won't ever leave you. I’m here," he cooed, stroking your hair and kissing your face as you bawled and shattered in his embrace. "I’m here ."

"So cry all you want."

[intheticklecloset]

You're the Coolest (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

@happyandticklish We're going back in time again! Consider this a bit of backstory for the events of "Burn Some Calories." I personally really love this one; there's not enough ticklish Noya in the world and he's so dang cute! Thanks so much for the fun prompt! Enjoy! ^^

~

This little first-year was at once making him look really bad and pushing him to do even better.

From the moment he’d introduced himself, Yuu Nishinoya had taken the court by storm. The kid was a natural libero, able to receive and defend better than anyone Asahi had ever known before. His bright smile and outgoing personality lit up the gym, making practice both more fun and more intense as everyone strove to do better, inspired by his energy.

Asahi admired him greatly for that. He, too, promised to work harder and improve in all areas so he could be worthy of sharing the court with Noya. As time went on, though, he found that it didn’t seem to matter how hard he worked; the first-year was always several steps ahead of him. While Daichi, Suga, and the others began to serve better, block better, and spike better, he himself – the ace of the team – remained steadfast in doing just as well as he always had. Sure, every practice was helping him improve, but only marginally compared to his teammates. Noya was always smiling and encouraging, but Asahi felt more and more like he was being left behind, and the weight was crushing him.

All of that changed one night after practice.

“All right, guys,” the captain announced, “time to call it a day. First-years, clean up. Second-years, put the gear away.”

Everyone shouted their affirmation and scattered to do as they were told.

Noya came bounding up to him, grinning. “You were great today, Asahi! You’ve been working on your serves, right? I can tell.”

Asahi gave him a tired smile. “You don’t have to do that, Noya.”

“Huh? Do what?”

“Act like I’m making such great progress.” Asahi gripped the ball he was holding before tossing it into the bin nearby. “I’m obviously not.”

“Sure you are.” Noya looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest. “If I’m having to work harder to receive them, that means you’ve been working harder to improve them. It’s logic.”

“That’s more a testament to how amazing you are than anything.”

“You think I’m amazing?”

Asahi looked down at his underclassman, astonished. “Of course I think that. You are amazing, Noya.”

Noya beamed, gently pushing his fist into Asahi’s chest. “You’re amazing, too, ace.”

“Not compared to you. You’re so…so energetic and adaptive and tough, and I’m…I’m none of those things.”

“Tough? I’m not tough,” Noya laughed. “You’re the tough one.”

Asahi tossed another volleyball into the basket. “Yeah, right.”

“You are!”

“Noya!” Tanaka snapped from the supplies closet. “A little help would be nice!”

“Hang on a second, Tanaka,” the libero called back. “I’m giving a pep talk here.” He turned to look up at Asahi again. “You’ve got to believe in yourself more, dude. I can see you’re improving. All of us can. Why can’t you?”

“Sure, I’m improving. Just not enough.”

“Everyone moves at their own pace.”

“I’ll never be as awesome as you.”

Noya frowned, and the look was so unusual for him that it gave Asahi pause. “I’m not as invincible as you think I am, Asahi. I’ve got weaknesses, too.”

“I have yet to see one.”

“Where do I start? My test scores are average at best, I’m total crap at serving – kind of why I chose to play libero, honestly. Oh, and don’t get me started on my luck with girls—”

“I meant physically,” Asahi said quickly, putting an end to that train of thought. “Physical weaknesses. On the court. I haven’t seen any.”

Noya hesitated for a moment, suddenly looking embarrassed. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, then lowered his voice. “Look, I’ll admit something to you, because you need the encouragement and I trust you. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”

Asahi swallowed, nodding.

“I’m ticklish,” Noya said quickly, cheeks turning pink as he spoke. “Like, stupidly ticklish. One poke and I’m completely useless.”

Asahi stared at him. He scanned him up and down, his mind automatically filling in the blanks. Ribs, sides, waist, knees. All places he’d attack first if he were to tickle Noya. Not that he was going to, of course. Not after the libero had specifically said he trusted him.

“Oh,” he said at last, voice soft. He blinked, straightened. “Well…I suppose that counts.”

“Nishinoya!” Tanaka yelled.

Noya whirled around and ran to him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

Asahi watched him go, then blindly – as if in a daze – picked up the rest of the volleyballs and helped take down the net, putting it away for the night. Ticklish, he thought, and that was all he could think. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish.

Once the gym had been cleared up and cleaned up and the captain had locked the doors, Noya found Asahi again, prancing up to him as if it was the first time he’d seen him all week. “So, feeling better now, ace?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Asahi took one glance at the libero’s smiling face and lost all control. He wanted to see that smile more. Wanted to make him smile like that more. He was dying to hear what Noya sounded like when he was tickled. So, in a flash, he grabbed the little first-year’s sides and squeezed.

As promised, Noya immediately burst into giggles and crumpled to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. “Nohohoho, Asahi!” he pleaded, holding up his hands defensively as the ace knelt down to join him and dug in again, more purposefully this time. “Nahahahahahahahaha! P-Please, I tohohohhohold you, I’m reheheheheheally ticklihihihihish!”

“You had to know I’d want to see for myself,” Asahi countered, beaming at the adorable sight but lightening his touch slightly.

“Ahahahahahahahaha! Sehehehehehee?! I’m n-nohohohohohot so tohohohohough, am I?”

“You’re the toughest person I know, Noya.” Asahi snatched up both of his wrists and held them above his head, using his free hand to wiggle his fingertips into the grooves of the libero’s ribcage. Noya spasmed, laughter spilling out of him faster than he seemed able to keep up with. “You’re just a sensitive guy, that’s all.”

“Tehehehehehell that to the lahahahahahahadies!” Noya retorted, squealing when Asahi found the backs of his ribs and kneaded there. He tossed his head back and laughed unguarded. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Part of Asahi thought he should stop, but another, stronger part of him found that he simply couldn’t. Noya losing control of himself like this was just so…so unprecedented and unusual, not to mention the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He swung a leg over to pin his thighs down and dug in a little harder, enjoying the shriek he got in response.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ASAHIHIEHEHEHEHE!!” Noya begged, smiling uncontrollably as mirth burst out of him in helpless waves. “STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“You’re really ticklish, huh, Noya?” Asahi asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He trailed his fingers down to the libero’s belly and scribbled there. “It’s kind of cute.”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!! I’M NOT CUHUHUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Noya insisted even through his frantic cackling and squirming. “I’M THE COHOHOHOHOHOOL, CONFIDENT LIHIHIHIHIHIBERO!!”

Asahi laughed with him at that. “Oh, are you, now? Not so cool and confident when I’ve got you pinned down like this, hmm?” He poked at Noya’s belly button, chuckling at the “eep!” he got as a reward. “Let’s see. Where’s your worst spot?”

“HAAH?!” Noya made a distressed noise through his giggling, twisting every which way under Asahi’s grasp. “N-Nohohoho, no, plehehease don’t, I cahahahahan’t take it! Reheheheheally!”

“I haven’t even found it yet!”

“Y-You wihihihihihill,” Noya replied, sounding nervous, his eyes panicked. “T-Then you’ll nehehever want to stop. Nohohoho one ever dohohoes.”

At that, Asahi pulled back, releasing Noya entirely as he climbed off of him. He frowned. “Whoa, dude, I’m sorry. Is this…is this traumatic for you?”

“No,” Noya groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, still laying on the ground. “It’s just…I’ve got this reputation, you know? You were telling me yourself that you think I’m some awesome, unbeatable volleyball star. I…I like being cool like that. And this undermines that coolness.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Asahi asked. “If you were worried it would ruin your reputation?”

“Because it’s you,” Noya said, uncovering his eyes to look at him. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Those words again, with more meaning this time. Asahi smiled at him. “Then do you believe me when I say I’ll never tell anyone else about this? I’ll preserve your reputation. Don’t worry.”

“But…” the libero looked away, seeming embarrassed again. “My worst spot makes me sound ridiculous when I’m tickled there. There’s no coming back from that once you’ve heard it. That’s why I…I don’t want you to try it.”

Asahi felt a little wounded. “Why? Do you think I’ll think less of you?”

“Everyone always does. Once you lose your cool, you’re no longer cool. You know?”

“Noya, I’ll never think you’re not cool just because you’re a little ticklish. That’s silly.” When the libero didn’t answer, he continued, “But if you want me to stop here, I will.”

Noya turned to look at him again, and he frowned. “You really want to, don’t you?”

Asahi could feel himself blushing, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean…yeah. Tickling you just now was…was fun. I’d like to hear what other sounds you make. But not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh.” The first-year covered his face with his hands. “You’re the cool one, Asahi. I’d never let anyone else do this, you know? You’re the only one allowed to see me like this.”

Asahi’s heart leapt. “So…is it okay? Or do you want me to stop?”

“It’s my thighs.”

There was a pause. Taking that as an invitation, Asahi cautiously reached out to try said spot, but stopped when he realized Noya was still hiding. He leaned forward and gently pried his hands away, forcing him to make eye contact. The ace smiled, then carefully grabbed one of the libero’s thighs and squeezed.

Noya spasmed again, his smile back in an instant, and just as instantly covered up again.

“Don’t hide,” Asahi said, pulling his hands away again. “I want to see that smile.”

“You’re the worst,” Noya whined, giggling. “The actual worst. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me-EEEEEE!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Asahi chuckled, scratching and scribbling along his thighs, enjoying how the lightest touch forced him into this amount of hysterics. “You know what, Noya? This is way more than just cute. This is cool.” He found the inner thighs and kneaded, making the libero toss his head back and scream like a banshee. “This is really, really cool.”

“NO IT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASAHIIIEEEEEE!!”

“Yes it is! Seeing you laugh so freely like that, like you don’t care who’s watching or listening? That’s really awesome. You’re the coolest, Noya.”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Don’t be rude! I’m your upperclassman. I know what I’m talking about.” Asahi left Noya’s thighs, darting back up to his ribs and scribbling wildly, enjoying the tussle of trying to keep up while the little libero squirmed around on the ground, curling up, giggling wildly. “You’re so cool. The best first-year in the bunch. Don’t tell the others, though.”

“Please,” Noya wheezed, grabbing onto Asahi’s wrists, too weak to actually push them away. “Please, stohohohohop tehehehehelling me I’m cohohohohool whihihihihile you’re tihihihihihickling me!”

“But you are!” Asahi insisted, grinning at how red Noya’s cheeks were becoming. “I already thought you were cool, but your laughter is awesome. I think you’re cool whether you’re ticklish or not. I want you to believe me. Do you, Noya? Do you believe me?”

“Yehehehehehes, all rihihihihight, I’m the c-cohohohohohoolest kid on the theheheheheam!” Noya relented, giggling so hard he was gasping for breath. “Plehehehehease, stahahahahahap it! Let me gohohohohoho!”

Beaming, Asahi did as he was asked, allowing Noya to catch his breath before reaching down to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re the best, you know that? When you’re around I always want to do better. To improve. Having you share this with me and letting me indulge a little bit makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if our cool, confident libero trusts me enough to do this, there’s nothing I can’t do. Right?”

Nishinoya looked up at him incredulously, then burst out laughing all over again. “Oh my god, you’re such a sap!” he cried, clutching his stomach as he rolled onto his side. “All right, fine, you’ve convinced me. I’m glad my being so stupidly ticklish makes you feel invincible.”

“You’re not stupidly ticklish. You’re extremely ticklish,” Asahi countered, reaching down to scribble at his belly. “Because you’re an extremely cool person.”

Noya beamed, giggling, allowing his friend to have a little more fun at his expense.

From that day forward, he never called his sensitivity stupid again.

[ticklishfiend]

Princess (My Hero Academia)

Ships : Lee!Jirou/Ler!Momo

A/N : OKAY!! ITS FINALLY UP!! i’m sorry it took so long lol tumblr was being a lesbophobic hoe 🙄‼️ anyways if it’s still messed up idk what to tell u LMAO i tried 😩 but tysm anons for the prompts!! i love this ship with my whole heart lol <33

Summary : Jirou is desperate for Momo’s attention, and once she finally gets it, she’s not sure if she loves it or hates it (jk they both know the answer to that lol)

Word Count : 1621 (sorry it’s so short!!)

REBLOGS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED!! MWAH <33

. . .

“Momoooo,” Jirou whined, flopping herself down on the pillows next to her girlfriend, who seemed to be lost in a book instead of paying attention to her girlfriend in need. When Momo didn’t respond to her whines, only smirking slightly at the girl’s fussing, Jirou groaned, flipping her body over and dramatically stuffing her face into her pillow.

“Momoo, pleeease,” her gripes were muffled into the fabric of the pretty pink pillowcase, but Momo heard it nonetheless, sighing as she closed her book to finally peer at her girlfriend, who was honestly still mid-tantrum.

“Please what, princess?” Momo smiled as she heard Jirou gasp at the pet name, the violet haired teen whipping her head up to glare at her girlfriend (though the blush on her cheeks did little to intimidate the girl). Momo grinned. “I know you like being called that, stop pretending.”

“Attention?” the raven-haired girl finished for her, finally sitting her book down on her nightstand much to Jirou’s pleasure. Momo opened up the arm closest to Jirou, inviting her into her space. “Y’know, you shouldn’t whine to get what you want.”

“Attention?” the raven-haired girl finished for her, finally sitting her book down on her nightstand much to Jirou’s pleasure. Momo opened up the arm closest to Jirou, inviting her into her space. “Y’know, you shouldn’t whine to get what you want.”

Jirou beamed at the invitation, quickly snuggling herself into her girlfriend’s loving warmth before she could change her mind. “I knowww, but I just really wanted you right now,” Jirou sighed in content as they adjusted their positions for comfort. Momo prompted to lay them both down with their heads against the pillows, Jirou facing Momo’s body with the raven haired girl’s face to snuggle into Jirou’s neck. Momo’s arms were wrapped protectively around Jirou’s waist, pulling her in as close as she could go as if to claim her even with no one around.

Jirou sighed happily as Momo pressed a light kiss to her jaw, the musical teen even subtly stretching her neck out a little further to invite the girl into the vulnerable and sensitive space. Momo just smiled, kissing up the girl’s jaw, her lips travelling closer and closer to Jirou’s ears with every loving peck. Momo didn’t miss the pretty little goosebumps that appeared on the girl’s pale expanse of skin, Jirou even shuddering slightly when Momo would press her lips to particularly sensitive areas along her neck.

“I know it’s kinda weird but...god, I love your neck,” Momo sighed, going in to kiss at the neck with more purpose now that her love for it was out in the open (as if Jirou didn’t know already). Jirou couldn’t help the way her shoulders slowly scrunched upwards instinctually, the corners of her mouth curving up into a bared teeth smile. Momo just pressed forth despite the scrunching, even nuzzling her nose into the skin causing jirou to just barely gasp. “No no no, don’t try hiding it from me now.”

“But it tickles!” Jirou whined, squirming in her girlfriend’s hold as if annoyed by the situation (which they both knew couldn’t be farther from the truth, Jirou was a sucker for almost all kinds of Momo’s attention, and her girlfriend knew it all too well).

Momo just chuckled, nibbling into her neck playfully, eliciting little squeals from the girl pressed closely into her chest. “Oh c’mon, I know you love this,” Momo muffled into the girls neck before continuing her ticklish nibbles, even travelling up far enough to nibble at the space where her earlobes met her earphone jacks. Jirou broke into a crumble of high-pitched giggles and squeaks, her legs kicking softly at the sheets. “Aww, look at you baby, you’re so ticklish~”

“Quhuhit!” Jirou fussed, her hands coming up to push at bat at Momo’s chest area right under her neck, but purposefully not hard enough to truly push the girl away.

While continuing her little feast on the girl’s sensitive neck, Momo started pinching playfully along Jirou’s side. Jirou squealed, curling up into herself as much as she could in their cuddled position, her squirming kicking up a notch as Momo’s fingers curled around towards her ticklish back.

“AHAH! Momohoho! Plehe-HEHEASE!” Jirou screamed when she felt Momo’s fingers slip traitorously underneath the fabric of her shirt. Jirou’s hands took to clutching desperately at the front of Momo’s sweater, laughing gleefully and freely as her girlfriend continued to tickle her silly.

“Please what?” Momo teased with a smile, delighted when she got no further protests from the girl. She couldn't get enough of Jirou’s giggles and squeaks, almost wishing she herself had Jirou’s quirk just so she could hear those beautiful sounds with a heightened sensitivity. No matter, though. She could get easily more giggles out of her little princess with ease. “Hold on, I wanna try something.”

Momo ceased her tickling momentarily to adjust her position. Jirou breathed heavily underneath her with a bright smile on her face, trace giggles still slipping without her meaning to let them. Momo took to straddling the girl, gently taking her hands and placing them under knees with no protests. She looked up to her girlfriend’s face, more than pleased to find the girl had taken to blushing furiously, her eyes averting away from Momo’s as to not embarrass herself even further. “Goodness, you’re adorable,” Momo sighed with a smile, delighted when she saw a wobbly smile creep onto her girl’s face. Momo let her fingers slip teasingly underneath Jirou’s shirt, the girl gasping, her tummy jolting slightly at the sudden sensation. “The safeword is ‘grapefruit,’ okay, princess?” Momo tilted her head, smiling when she received a quick nod from her girlfriend pinned beneath her happily. “I know you like to protest, so I thought it’d be a good idea,” Momo hummed before finally, finally, lightly scribbling her nails all around Jirou’s quivering tummy.

Jirou melted into her giggles, succumbing to the goofy sensations and allowing herself to just feel good, despite how torturously on fire all of her nerves were at the moment. Momo’s fingers tickled at the underside of the girl’s sides, a spot she knew would get Jirou pleading in no time.

“Ohohoho nohoho! Wahahahit! Momohoho!” Jirou’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut as she barely kicked behind Momo, her hands clenching tightly under her girlfriend’s knees. Momo kept one hand on the girl’s sensitive side, her other travelling towards Jirou’s belly button. She circled around the navel teasingly, beaming at the panicked look on Jirou’s blushed face. “Nononono! Nohot thehere! It’s sohohoho bad thehere!” Jirou pleaded, her belly bouncing through her giggles.

“Aww, you too sensitive, princess? Too ticklish to take it?” Momo teased, dipping her finger into the little button and swirling it around. Jirou squealed loudly, arching her back at the sensations before flopping back down on the bed, squirming around vigorously and pleading all the while. Momo took note of how their safeword had yet to be uttered. “I’m barely touching you, sweetheart. Are you suuuure it tickles that bad?”

“YEHEHES! IT DOHOHOES! PLEHEHEASE!” Jirou begged, screaming when she felt a mischievous thumb dig and massage circles into the sides of her tummy. “NAHAHA! NOHOHOT THAHAHAT! PLEHEHEHASE, MOMOHOHO!”

“Whatsa matter, baby? Is your tummy ticklish? Your tummy a really bad spot?” Momo loved teasing her girl like this, she absolutely adored the blush it would paint all over Jirou’s cute little face. She loved the way it made her squirm around, made her plead even though they both knew she loved every last ounce of it.

“NAHAHAHA! I CAHAHAN’T!” Jirou babbled, throwing her head back against the pillows in ticklish mirth. Momo chuckled before finally taking it easy on her baby, slowing her hands down to trace evil little shapes into the girls sensitive sides. Jirou wiggled and squirmed, still giggling helplessly from the sensations.

“Ehehehe! Momohoho!” Jirou squeezed her eyes shut tight during her giggles, like she was trying to shield her vision from the teasing smirk Momo wore every time she tickled her to pieces. “Thihis tickles wohohohorse!”

“Aw, does it really?” Momo cooed genuinely, not even trying to tease this time around. She was just in serious awe of how adorable her girlfriend could be without even trying. She finally slowed her hands down completely, taking her knees off of the girl’s hands. She rubbed soothingly along Jirou’s bare tummy, the girl still twitching every now and then at the fact her most ticklish spot was still being touched. Jirou placed her hands on top of Momo’s thighs, finally looking up into Momo’s eyes with the utmost love plastered all over her face.

“I love you,” Jirou breathed, giving Momo’s thigh a loving squeeze. Momo felt like she could melt, right here, right now, in this exact moment, and she would be perfect with that. Momo continued her soothing rub along one of Jirous sides, moving her other hand up to squeeze onto Jirou’s hand lovingly.

“I love you too, princess,” Momo smiled at the little flustered falter Jirou’s eyebrows gave at the nickname. “So, so much.”

Momo leaned down to cup Jirou’s face with her hand, kissing her softly but with purpose. They kissed for a while, before finally pulling away and snuggling back into one another.

“Thank you,” Jirou muffled into Momo’s chest, curling up into the girl’s warmth. Momo just chuckled, petting at the girl’s head just the way she knew she loved it.

“Of course, love,” Momo kissed the top of her head as they both began dozing off into the most comfortable and warm sleep they’d had in a while.

. . .

A/N : sorry this was so short!! i didn't expect it to take this long to fucking upload so i didn't work rlly hard on it LMAOO but i hope u enjoyed nonetheless haha, much love!! <33

[manjiroro]

Hello I would like to order shinichiro, couple rings, fluff, male gender. Thank you

100 milestone event (closed!!)

character: shinichiro

content: fluff, male reader

helloo thank you for participating! Hope you like this~!

i apologise for any mistakes and i hope you enjoy~~

Shinichiro was sure he had fallen for you. From your appearance to your personality, all your flaws and imperfections, he loves everything about you. Every moment spent with you, it felt as if it was just the both of you in the world, enjoying the time with each other. He was mesmorised by the way you would look at him with those kind eyes of yours, your presence captivated him.

Shinichiro could never seem to get his mind off of you, often finding himself lost in thought about you. Whether he was eating or working on his bike, his mind always lands on you.

He doesn't really know how his small, harmless crush on you managed to tumble into one where he's constantly thinking about your presence. Everything you did seemed to have an impact on him, every look and touch sent his way makes his heart thump faster than before.

The day where he fell for you will always remain dear to Shinichiro's heart. It was when you stepped foot into his bike shop, trudging into it while pulling on your bike. He remembers the tired expression on your face from dragging a damaged bike. He immediately gets up to help you with dragging your bike into his store while you bent over, hands on your knees, gasping for air, mumbling a small thanks to him.

The both of you have a consultation on what needed to be done on your bike while the whole time, he took the time to admire your features, he feels his cheeks heat up slightly when you meet his gaze, you looked perfect to him.

"u-uh, yeah, so, the damage isn't anything too serious so, you can pick it up later today."

He clarifies, eyes looking downward to avoid embarrassing himself further.

"Right, so here's my number~"

"H-huh."

"Silly, you need my number to tell me when my bike's done right?"

You chuckled at him, which made his face flush red, he shakily grabs hold of the paper with your number on it.

A few hours passed and he had called you to tell you that your bike was done repairing. Shinichiro wasn't expecting you to come in with two drinks in your hand.

"Here! It's a form of thanks for fixing my bike."

"You.. didn't have to-"

"I wanted to!"

You insisted, making him blush once more. He takes hold of the drink in your hand as you inspect your bike.

"Wow, it looks like when I first got it, thank you!"

Shinichiro gave you a nod before making his way to the counter, taking hold of a piece of scrap paper and scribbling on it.

"Here."

He said as he thrusts the piece of paper to you.

"It's my personal number. I.. wanna hang out with you.."

You took hold of the piece of paper, before smiling back at him.

"Of course~!"

And the rest was history. Shinichiro couldn't keep these growing feelings to himself anymore, he feels miserable the more he hides them. So, without second thought, he planned a confession for you, calling you up to hang out with him the next day.

The next day when you meet, he could feel himself melt at the sight of the same wide smile reserved only for him. The day went on like how it usually would between the both of you but the whole time, Shinichiro was worried about his confession, are you going to accept? Or is he going to have to deal with another rejection?

"Shin? Are you okay?"

He snaps out of his thoughts, looking back at your concerned expression.

"Uh yeah.. Okay you know what? No, I'm not okay."

Shinichro walks up to you, standing right in front of you, eyes fixed on your own.

"Y/n.. I.. like you. More than a friend would. I've been liking you ever since the day we met. I.. really like you y/n."

He shifts his gaze to the side, afraid of what you'll say to him. But all worries fade away when your hands held his.

"Shin.. This makes me so happy, I like you too."

Shinichiro instantly shifts his gaze to you, you had your signature smile on your face and he could feel how your hands were trembling.

"Then! Would you be my boyfriend?"

You chuckled and nodded your head, he fishes through his pocket to find a pair of silver rings. He slowly slides one of them onto your ring finger.

"Are we getting married now?"

You joked while examining the band on your finger, watching him slide the other ring onto his finger.

"No, but sometime in the future."

He laughs, hand grabbing onto yours, lacing fingers. Shinichiro looks down at your hands intertwined with each other, silver band shining under the sunlight, he hopes to fulfill his promise sometimes in the future <3

❥ masterlist

[happyandticklish]

Disarming Your Demons

Notes: Okay, so I’m only halfway through Jujutsu Kaisen, but I had an idea and I had to write it down. I’m not sure if I’m gonna write anything else for it until I actually finish the show, but I said that before and now this exists, so who knows really. 

Summary: Itadori discovers a new method to deal with misbehaving curses. 

Sharing a body with a thousand-year-old curse could have its downfalls, something Itadori was quickly becoming familiar with. Though he could control it most of the time, it was difficult, and took a strain on his mind and body. He put on a brave face afterwards, insisting that it was no big deal, but the truth was anything but. Sukuna’s ability to switch out with him was growing stronger, and the exhaustion was setting in faster now with each time Itadori wrestled back control over his body. In the heat of battle was one thing, edged on by desperation and the will to keep his friends alive. But it was the other times, when Itadori was tired and vulnerable and fully unprepared to battle his literal inner demons, that he regretted the lifestyle most.

Say, for instance, in his dorm room, half-asleep and dreary from a battle earlier that day.

“Hello again.”

Switching out with Sukuna was strange. He didn’t feel it in a physical sense, no pain or sensation inflicted upon him. One moment he was in his body, and the next he was trapped, a helpless bystander to the other’s will.

“You know, it’s awfully bold of those teachers of yours to leave you all alone like this at night.” Sukuna stood, stretching his arms above his head in satisfaction. “Do they really put so much stock in you to assume you’d be able to fight me, like this?”

“Sukuna.” Itadori’s voice was inaudible to anyone who might be passing by, an aimless thought floating around in his consciousness, but he knew the other could hear him nonetheless. “Give me back my body!”

“Please,” Sukuna dismissed, waving one hand as he strolled around the dorm, examining objects with a vague curiosity. “After you used me earlier? I’m growing rather tired of this dynamic, you know. Only ever summoning me when you need your friend healed, or a new big baddie rears its odious head. Then, afterwards, you hide me away without so much as a thank you.”

“I do appreciate your help,” Itadori started carefully, trying to keep his tone neutral. It was difficult though, when the other could easily read his true thoughts. “But you can’t expect me to simply hand my body over like some kind of puppet. I know what your true intentions are, and I won’t let you harm my friends or anyone else.”

“Oh, of course not, not heroic, selfless Itadori.” He placed a hand on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open with one hand. “I wonder what would happen if I went to pay them a little visit now?”

“No!”

“Oh? Don’t like that, do you. Then why don’t you do something about it? Force me back, take over your body once more.” Sukuna chuckled dryly, pausing in the doorway. “If you can, that is. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the toll this is taking on you. Do you really think you have the strength to best me now, when you’re tired and weak from battle?”

Itadori tried, he really did. He knew he had to do this, but Sukuna was right. In his current state, he could hardly focus enough to remain present enough to speak to the other, let alone reclaim his physical form. With his last remaining willpower, he managed to gather enough strength to take control of one arm before he found himself blocked by the other. 

Sukuna’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, a throaty, derisive thing that made Itadori clench the fist he had. “One arm? Is that it? You truly are in for it now. I must say, I am impressed though. I didn’t think you had even that in you. Still, it’s no matter. I could end your world as you know it with both my hands tied behind my back. This pathetic defense is but a pebble in my path. I must thank you for the amusing display though—I needed a good laugh.”

Itadori watched helplessly as his body moved forward against his will, his mind racing as he tried to think of anything he could do in his position.

I needed a good laugh.

That was it!

Itadori would have smiled if he could use his mouth. An idea was formulating in his mind, crazy and nonsensical, but possibly just the thing he needed. It was a method that Gojo had employed once, to train him to focus on maintaining curse energy and resist distractions. He had no idea if the same thing would work on Sukuna, but seeing as he was in his body and therefore should be just as susceptible as Itadori had been, it just might work.

Sukuna stopped short as a jolt of sensation shot through him, and he snapped his head down to see his own hand squeezing his hip. “What the hell?”

“Ha! I didn’t think it would actually work!” Itadori’s voice rang out triumphant through the other’s mind as he squeezed again and again, quick and sudden so that Sukuna had no time to adjust to them. “Who knew that my own ticklishness would come in handy one day?”

“Tickli—what?” Sukuna started in confusion, but quickly slapped his other hand to his mouth to hold back… was that laughter?

He stumbled back against the wall, torn between shoving the other’s hands away and holding back the embarrassing noises leaking between his fingers. It was in times like these that he missed his four arms. It was hard enough to work with only two arms—one was impossible.

“W-What are you d-dohoing?” Sukuna grunted, trying to sound intimidating despite the silly grin quickly taking hold of his features.

“Tickling you, duh.” It was weird tickling his own body, and weirder still to have the sensation disconnected from him. He could feel the AC in the hallway on his arm, and the warmth of his hip under his hand, but that was all. It was disconcerting, but Itadori was grateful for it in this moment. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to continue if he could feel everything the other was feeling. He could only imagine how Sukuna was managing to stop himself from collapsing into an Itadori-sized puddle of laughter on the ground. “Haven’t you ever heard of tickling before?”

“I-Is that some k-kind of hihidden Jujutsu?” Sukuna snapped angrily, annoyed at the chuckle that had slipped into his words halfway through.

Laughter rang through his head, unhelpfully as Sukuna tried to hold back his own. “Dude, what? Of course not! Tickling is… well, it’s a human thing you know? When you lightly touch the human body, like this—” he scribbled his fingers up his sides suddenly—“They laugh! I’m not sure why though… science is still a bit iffy on that.”

Sukuna had stopped listening at this point. He had burst into panicked giggles the second Itadori touched his side, unprepared for the other’s change in strategy. Sukuna’s hand come down, wrapping around his wrist and pulling it up, away from his sides.

He drew in an exhausted breath, grinning in relief as he held the other firmly away from him. “There. Your… tickling, or whatever it is, is ineffectual now. Seems like you didn’t think this plan through, did you now?”

He was right. It was a temporary solution, but the truth was that Itadori was going to get nowhere with just one hand. Which was why…

Sukuna’s eyes widened as he felt a sudden pull at his person once more. His body was rebelling, and he fought back, trying to push back at Itadori’s attempt to switch back. He was getting stronger now, and Itadori was still weak, so it should be nothing to keep control from the brat. What he hadn’t expected was for Itadori to focus all his energy on reclaiming a single part of his body, leaving Sukuna unprepared for the concentrated force. He felt his fingers slipping on his wrist, his left arm losing connection just like the first one had.

“No!” Sukuna growled, but it was too late. Both arms were lost to him now, and he knew if Itadori could, he would be smirking.

“Yes,” Itadori countered. Surprisingly enough, he kept his one arm raised. He lowered the other one, poising his fingers under his arms and wiggling them in the air threateningly. “I remember this always being one of my worst spots. Unfortunately for you, I’m afraid.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes in confusion, but before he could say anything he was stopped by the sensation of nails gently spidering under his arm. It was a slow, unhurried process, that never missed its mark. Instinct shot through him like a bullet and Sukuna attempted to bring his arm down protectively. He was stopped by the other’s remaining control of the limb, which kept it raised exposed and vulnerable over his head. It didn’t help that Itadori hadn’t worn a shirt to bed the previous night, so Itadori had full access to his bare torso.

Sukuna spluttered over a laugh, a hysterical cackling that only grew in desperation as time went on. Sparks flurried through him, his stomach erupting with what felt like millions of butterflies all taking off at the same time. It was impossible to explain how unbearable the feeling was, and Sukuna wondered how humans lived with such a weakness on their body all this time.

“A-Ahaha, stahahahap, eh, gah, stahahahap i-ihihit!” Sukuna’s head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as a wild grin danced along his features. “Y-Yohohou irritahahating b-brahat!”

“Intense, right?” Itadori asked, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. “If only you had chosen a less ticklish vessel. You’re in for it now, though. I got to be honest, it’s kind of funny seeing a bigshot curse like you writhing around like a worm on a hook.”

“Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Sukuna demanded, though it came out far more giggly than he would have liked. He couldn’t concentrate like this, couldn’t even begin to start to try to reclaim his arms. He needed him to move his hand, maybe back to his hips, or somewhere else, anywhere else. He wasn’t sure if the rest of this body was less ticklish, only that he needed Itadori to move away from that spot.

“Not a chance,” Itadori scoffed. “This is way too much fun! Of course, you could always stop me. Just switch back and the tickling won’t affect you anymore; it’s that easy.”

“L-Lihihike hehehell Ihihihihi wihihihill!” He was slipping now, his body sliding down the wall in an attempt to get away. Unfortunately, you can’t run away from yourself, and those wiggling fingers followed him all the way down. “Cuhuhut ihihit ohohout wihihihith thahahat sphohohot!”

“Why?” Itadori asked innocently, loving this a bit too much for his own good. But could he really help it when he was given such a perfect oppurtunity for revenge? “Does it tickle too much for the big bad curse?”

Sukuna was going to kill him. Then, once he was sure the pest was well and truly dead, he was going to bring him back to life so he could kill him all over again. Right now, however, his focus was only on those devastating nails, light, barely-there touches that had his mind reeling. When his fingers traveled a bit too high, skittering at the top of his armpits, he finally gave in. “Yehehehes, ohohokay, ihihit tihihihickles, ohohor whahahatever y-yohou cahahalled ihihit! Sohohomewhehere ehehelse!”

“Are you sure you want me to go somewhere else?” Itadori questioned teasingly, circling the area with just one finger. Sukuna ducked his chin into his chest, unable to hold back the flood of giggles that caused. “Really sure?”

“Y-Yohohou, ahaha, yohou lihihittle—”

“Okay, okay.” Itadori moved his hand away, pulling his other arm down. Sukuna exhaled in relief, an exhausted grin still dancing on his features. Unfortunately, Itadori noticed. “Hey, don’t relax just yet. I’m not done with you. After all, you still haven’t given me back my body, have you?”

“What the hell—noHOHO!” Sukuna burst into laughter anew as his arms wrapped around himself, trapping him in a tickly hug as fingers wiggled up and down his sides. “S-SHIHIHIT!”

“Regretting your words yet?”

Sukuna thrashed wildly, howling as he doubled over in a useless attempt to protect himself. The snarky remarks were gone now, so completely was he lost to his own laughter. His skin twitched and goosebumps scattered up his sides, a helpless reaction to the playful tickling.

Because it was playful. Despite everything, he could tell that Itadori was having fun with this. And maybe, just maybe, the other was too. His insides felt warm and fuzzy in a way they hadn’t in a while, his laughter peaking between desperation and silly giggles. It was strangely addicting to give in like this, allowing the tickling to consume his thoughts and blur out any remaining negativity.

It was… nice.

“I-IIHIHITADORI!” His head was thrown back, a hearty flush spreading across his cheeks and warming his skin. “I-IHIHI CAHAHAN’T!”

“You know how to stop this,” Itadori reminded him. “Just switch back and the tickling stops.”

Sukuna fell back on the floor, unable to hold himself up against the relentless tickling. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, the sensations breaking through the last of his revolve. And finally, at last, he caved in.

With a start, Itadori felt the other ducking back into himself, releasing his body in the process. He stopped wiggling his fingers, sitting up slowly as he regained control of himself once more. He was sweaty and exhausted, like he’d just ran a marathon, and he could feel that familiar floating sensation in the pit of his stomach that came with being tickled.

“Damn brat,” Sukuna complained from inside him, and Itadori smiled fondly. He would have to remember this method for next time.

“What the hell?”

Itadori startled as a voice shot through his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Megumi standing in the hallway. He was still in pajamas, and his hair was sticking out in several directions. The look on his face implied he’d just woken up. The two made eye contact, Megumi taking in Itadori’s flushed features and his sprawled position on the floor.

Megumi furrowed his brows in confusion. “Itadori? I heard a noise and I thought… are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Itadori dismissed, sitting up slowly. “I was… sleep-walking. Yeah, that’s it. Just a weird dream, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Megumi continued to stare at him for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to believe the other. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Alright. If you say so. Just keep it down next time, will you? Some of us are actually trying to sleep.”

Itadori threw the other a hearty thumbs-up, grinning innocently. “Will do!”

Megumi frowned, but eventually disappeared back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Itadori stood up fully, his legs a little shaky from the previous tickling, and decided to do the same. It was the middle of the night after all—sleep was probably in order. However, as he turned the knob to shut the door behind him, he heard a voice loud and clear in his head.

“Sleep tonight, young sorcerer, and get your rest. Because tomorrow—” a sudden pinch to his side as Sukuna wrestled control of his hand—“it’s your turn.”

Itadori regained control almost instantly, and his hand was his again as though nothing had happened. He smiled nervously, not doubting the other’s words for a minute.

And as he got into bed that night, pulling the covers tight around himself, he found he couldn’t wait.

[roberttchase]

Fluffy - comfort for brettsey 🥰

This...got away from me a bit. I didn't mean for it to get long, but I'm a big comfort fan. This is set late season 8, when the pining was intense. Enjoy 2k of sick, soft Matt and overly worried Sylvie.

“Has anyone seen Casey?”

Herrmann shakes his head from where he’s talking to Mouch about an idea for Molly’s. When Sylvie gets a head shake from both Ritter and Gallo, she sighs, not sure what else to do. She’s looked everywhere- his office, Severide’s office, the locker room, his rig, the common room. He’s nowhere to be found. Grabbing water from the fridge, the paramedic huffs and heads back to the bunk room, when she collides with Stella in the doorway.

“Woah! What’s up?”

Looking up, the blonde meets her best friend's eyes. “Have you seen Matt anywhere?”

Stella cocks an eyebrow and tilts her head a bit, a smug look overtaking her features.

“What?”

“Nothin’ just...I may have seen Matt somewhere,” her tone is teasing, and Sylvie wrinkles her nose at how foreign it sounds for the firefighter to say the mans first name.

“If you have something you want to say…” Sylvie inclines her head towards the other woman, who smirks.

“Nope,” Stella pops the end of the word, then rolls her eyes. “Last I saw, Casey was heading towards the turnout room to see what jackets needed to be ordered.”

“Thank you.” Sylvie turns before she can get another word in about her and Matt, and heads out to the apparatus floor. Moving past the squad table, she half heads Tony and Capp talking about some movie, but her head is mostly focused on finding the Captain, wanting to tell him about the good phone call she’d had with Amelia and Scott the night prior. Taking a left into the turnout room, she pauses when she sees the person she’s been searching for.

Matt’s leaning against the wall, clipboard loosely in his hand, head tilted back, eyes shut. He looks tired, like he’s purposely chosen this room to be in so the chaos of the rest of the firehouse can’t touch him. She debates on turning and leaving, letting him have some time alone that he clearly needs, but then she’s brought back from her thoughts when Matt makes a noise.

“Hey, sorry. Got lost in thought. Fancy meeting you here.” Though he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual, and Sylvie’s already letting her eyes sweep over him, checking to make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.

“It’s okay, I can go and let you have some alone time.” She says it lightly, as if to be joking, but she’s serious. She doesn’t want to keep him if he needs to decompress- they’ve all been there- even if she hasn’t heard of any bad calls for truck today.

“No, it’s fine, like I said, lost in thought,” he clears his throat and stands up straighter. Sylvie swears she can almost physically see him put on his Captain persona. She hates it, hates that he can’t just be himself, even if she does understand it. She’s the paramedic in charge, which means she’s responsible for her and Foster. Matt’s responsible for the whole house.

Taking a breath in, Sylvie’s about to start telling him how her phone call went,  but she’s cut off when Matt coughs. The firefighter ducks his head away and into his arm, letting the coughs come as quietly as it sounds he can manage, finally straightening back up and clearing his throat again.

“I’m sorry.” He’s blushing, Sylvie notices, which is kind of adorable.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know you can talk to me Matt.” She reaches her hand out and puts it on his shoulder, their eyes meeting. She tries again. “What’s going on?”

Matt hesitates, swallowing, and then rubs at the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze, eyes snapping down. “I’m just….I don’t….” She gives him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder as he tries to explain. “I didn’t really sleep well last night. Guess it’s just catching up to me is all. Don’t feel all that great. But it’s fine.”

Oh. Without thinking, she moves closer, her hand moving from his shoulder upwards, palm gently connecting with his forehead. It’s warmer than it should be. Frowning, she notices his eyes have shut at the contact, and he looks younger. Matt’s eyes flutter back open when she moves her hand.

“Come on…” Sylvie jerks her head towards the door, walking through it, knowing Matt will follow. Sure enough, he does, even if he looks confused as he trails after her and into the ambo when she opens the back doors. “Sit.”

She almost laughs when he sits on the bench to the side immediately. Turning, the paramedic rummages through one drawer, and then another until she finds the small, white, plastic instrument. “Put this under your tongue.”

“Bossy...Sylvie, this is silly, I’m f-“

“If you say you’re fine, Matt Casey…” she trails off and lowers her stare at him. Slowly, he takes the thermometer she’s holding out of him, a little plastic cover on the tip, and guides it under his tongue. As they wait, Sylvie’s struck with how young and vulnerable he looks. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sick before, or if she has, it’s been when he’s hiding it.

After another fourteen quiet seconds, the shrill repetitive beep sounds, and Matt takes it out, glancing at it. His shoulders sag and he lets out a breath, and it’s all the confirmation she needs to know he’s got a fever. Taking it, she looks at the little screen that’s lit up red, the numbers ‘100.5’ flashing.

“Matt.” She knows he must feel bad. Keeping her voice low, she hesitantly reaches out and brushes some hair away from his forehead. The atmosphere around them is suddenly, intensely intimate. She finds that she doesn’t mind, that it doesn’t bother her. “I’ll tell Bo-“

“No! No, I’m...I can do my job just fine Sylvie. It’s barely anything, really. I’ll be alright.”

The look Matt’s giving her makes her nod, but then she levels him with her own. “Fine. But I’m checking your temp every hour. If it hits 101 I’m telling him. That’s putting yourself and your team at risk.” She knows he wants to argue, so she goes for the low blow. Her hand is resting on his arm now, but she has no intention of moving it. If she’s honest, she has no intention of ever breaking this spell cast around them, but, as if the universe wants to tease her, the alarm goes off for ambo and squad. Of course.

“Be safe out there,” Matt says with a genuine smile this time, getting out of the rig slower than usual, as if his body aches. She’s sure it does, even if he won’t admit to it. She moves to the front, and just barely catches the look Foster gives the Captain as she jumps in. Watching the rear view mirror, she sees Matt slip into the firehouse, unnoticed with all the commotion. Maybe he’ll get some rest.

Sylvie fully intends to bring Matt back a smoothie, but while they’re on the way to the coffee shop that has the best ones in Chicago, they’re called to another company's scene to help transport another victim. By the time they’re leaving Med it’s close to ten at night, both she and Foster are tired, and the idea to bring back a smoothie isn’t even in her mind anymore.

They get back to an empty firehouse. Sylvie wonders how long they’ve been out, and after checking with one of the temps in the bullpen, it sounds like they’ve been gone a while. She hopes it’s not a bad fire, though she’s sure if it was they’d have heard about it by now over the radio or from main. Starving, the paramedic goes to root around in the fridge, but when she opens the door, she sees two covered plates with a little sticky note on top.

Saved for Brett and Foster. DO NOT TOUCH.

It’s written in Matt’s neat but scribbled handwriting, and it makes her body feel warm. Even when he’s not feeling well he’s looking out for her. As she heats the plates up, Sylvie hears the apparatus bay doors slide up, and the missing rigs park back in place. Minutes later everyone is bustling in looking exhausted.

“Bad?” Emily asks as Stella drops herself into a chair next to them at the table. When the firefighter only grunts, they both wince sympathetically.

“Not bad, but we had two back to back calls. Even if they weren’t bad, it was just…a lot.”

Matt walks in and heads straight for the bunk room, not acknowledging anyone. Sylvie watches him go, playing with her watch anxiously. Stella shrugs when they make eye contact, as if to say she doesn’t know what’s going on either. Deciding to take action, she excuses herself and grabs her plate, ignoring the looks from her friends. The paramedic follows the same path the man had, but when she gets to his quarters, she sees the door is shut, and the blinds are drawn. Worry pools in her stomach.

Quietly, Sylvie knocks, knuckles hitting glass. When she’s been standing there for almost fifteen seconds, the blonde starts to turn to leave when the door opens, revealing a disheveled Matthew Casey. His skin is just slightly paler than normal, dark circles under his eyes becoming more visible. What stands out to her is the way he’s got his right hand’s fingers pressed gingerly against where she knows his lymph node would be on his neck.

“Hi...you can come in, sorry. I just don’t have the mental capacity to deal with Severide right now.” His voice is just shy of raspy, though that could be from having to call the shots at the scenes.

Stepping inside, Sylvie sits on the mans bunk, then pats the small open area next to her, hoping to coax him onto it, and eventually get him to lay down and rest. “How’re you feeling?”

Matt freezes, then shrugs. “Like I have some silly little bug that you’re getting too worried over,” he decides, looking at her pointedly. Setting her plate in her lap, she mirrors the same gesture she had done earlier, hand going to the firefighters forehead again.

“You feel warmer. Why don’t you get some rest. You can do paperwork later, you need to get some energy back up if there’s another call,” Sylvie tries to reason with him. It’s a testament to how he must be feeling that Matt just nods. She’s about to move when he puts a hand out on her knee.

“Will you stay? Just for a little while.”

Her first instinct is to pull him into a hug and hold him close. Instead, she nods and smiles. “Mind if I eat while I’m here?”

“Of course not…” Matt shifts so that he’s lying on the bed instead of sitting. The space makes Sylvie move too, sitting next to Matt, propped against the back wall. Eating with her right hand, she reaches out her left and plays with Matt’s hair hesitantly. She pauses when he looks at her.

“No, no...you can keep...it feels nice.” The pink on his cheeks increases tenfold, and Sylvie wishes she could take a photo. Instead of responding, she merely continues the motion, and soon Matt’s asleep head falling to her shoulder.

Looking down, she tries to memorize how he looks, so young and at ease, sleep allowing him to get away from the heaviness of being a Captain. The urge to kiss his hairline is strong, but instead she continues to play with his hair, mind wandering and imagining what it would be like to get to take care of him every day, call him hers. There are worse ways to spend shift.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 22: Preparations

This is chapter 22 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 3,093

Cw: pain, brief loneliness, implied derealization

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur was somewhat thankful that the early morning interaction had been disheveled enough, for Wilbur not to have been asked to leave. It was kind of funny really, that even though Wilbur had been caught trespassing where he shouldn’t, the young boy had been far too distracted to kick him out. Far too confused and awkward. It seemed to be a general trend whenever Ranboo was talking to him.

Though perhaps Wilbur couldn’t act as if he was above that awkwardness, as he hadn’t even gotten around to asking exactly what kind of party it was. He assumed however, for natural reasons, that if it was a party for a toddler, presents for said toddler would be involved. Regardless, Wilbur didn’t think giving a present to a child would be looked down upon in any case. If anything, it might repair what he previously damaged. Even if it was an infinitesimal amount, it could still help.

“Oh oh oh! What should we get him?” Ghostbur asked excitedly, “What does he like? Red, gold, nether things, books…” He chuckled as he jokingly added, “Us! We could wrap ourselves in a present.”

Wilbur chuckled despite himself. “We could,” he said with a smile, feeling a bit of exhaustion dragging at him, but finding it easier and easier to ignore. “Let’s see if there’s anything we can use in these chests.”

Wilbur rummaged through them for a while, only managing to find four gold ingots that could perhaps interest the child. He briskly crafted them into a pair of gold boots that he figured would suit Michael’s size. He narrated the action to Ghostbur as he did it.

“They’re like rubber boots!” Ghostbur had commented excitedly.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I have an idea!” 

“Shoot,” a smile lingered in his voice as he grabbed a dark gray satchel nearby. It was light-weight and durable. Perfect for a gift or two. He carefully put the golden boots inside it as Ghostbur rambled on cheerfully.

“So, hear me out. I’ve got the best idea ever in the whole universe. We should make him a card! He can hold and look at it, and you can be nice in it too!”

Wilbur walked downstairs, grabbing some sugar cane from the farm as he quickly pressed it into paper. A quill sat nearby as he picked it up. “Alright, so a simple message…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off.

“Okay, how about, ‘Oh, Michael, you are the most amazing person to exist and I hope you continue existing forever.’”  

Wilbur looked into the air as if he was on The Office. “Or we could go with something more general.”

“I gotcha! We can do ‘You are the most amazing person to exist and you are so cool that I hope you continue existing forever.’”

“First of all, I thought I said more general, not less.”

“I did make it more general! I removed Michael’s name from it.”

Wilbur facepalmed gently so it wouldn’t hurt Ghostbur. “I meant for it to be less… emotional? I don’t think that’s the right word, but I want the card to be neutral.”

Ghostbur hummed in agreement. “Okay. We can say ‘I feel neutral about your existence, but I do agree that you chose to exist at this current time, and by the way, you are also very cool.’”

Wilbur sighed, “I’ll take over the writing.” He narrated the words on the paper, “Dear Michael, The world will be at your feet someday! But for now, it's just these gold boots.” A smile slipped on his face at the words replaying in his mind in company with Ghostbur’s noises of approval.

“Oh can we do a drawing at the bottom? Michael likes drawings.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Ghostbur excitedly squealed, “Can we- oh my, I have so many good ideas.”

Wilbur chuckled, pleased to hear the ghost being his typical self again. “I can start with drawing Michael?”

Ghostbur clapped, “Yeah! And- and holding hands with him?”

“Sure, just give me one second.” He might have been a leader of a nation and a general for many soldiers, but Wilbur certainly was not an artist. He tried genuinely drawing a face, only for him to scratch it out and get a new paper out and transfer his original message onto it. Instead, he imitated Michael’s drawing style- stick figures. 

He drew playful lines across the bottom of the paper. He eventually formed a small stick person with little pig ears, a big smile, and black boots. He would have colored them, but he didn’t want to risk Michael eating the paper as he did just days ago. 

Next to Michael, he drew a slightly bigger person. Curly hair at the top and a rough trenchcoat around the body. He hesitantly finished the picture with a small smile on his own face. It felt a bit silly to draw like that. To be making a card for a child after everything, drawing handholding and smiles. Yet Ghostbur’s excitement was strangely infectious. It was sort of relieving in a sense, even if Wilbur wasn’t the type to fall for such bright positivity.

“Alright, the drawings are finished.” 

He was about to fold the paper into his pocket when Ghostbur called out, “Wait, did you put any stars on there?”

“No?”

“What kind of drawing is it if there’s no stars?!”

Wilbur sighed quietly as he quickly scribbled some stars in the corners. “Alright, I’m putting it away now-”

“Wait! Did you sign it?”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “I’m giving it to him. He knows it’s from me.”

Ghostbur pleaded, “But cards always look better if they’re signed. Just a quick, ‘Love, Wilbur and Ghostbur’ makes the card a thousand times better! No- a billion!”

Wilbur sighed as he remained frozen in place before the words settled in. His mind easily processed the ridiculous request, but not the fact that Ghostbur wanted to be signed on the card too. Wilbur should have probably assumed it, but the idea didn’t fully settle with him. “Alright.” The words were quiet as he quickly wrote down, ‘Sincerely, Uncle Wilbur’.

"Is there anything else I need to add?"

"Hmm, I don't think so."

Wilbur gently placed the card in the satchel as he quickly ran up to see the clock once more, but he slightly frowned to see the hour hand still lingering between the four and five. He brushed it off though. He could easily occupy himself anyway. His eyes glazed over the books on the table before he internally groaned at the thought of hitting the books once again. 

He walked over to the table, placing the satchel onto it, before grabbing one of the books before Ghostbur spoke, "Oh, we're reading again?" His voice sounded slightly dismayed.

Wilbur shook his head, "Nah, I'm just putting away some books." Ghostbur made a pleased sound  as Wilbur quietly pushed the leather-bound book back into its spot. 

He sighed quietly at the odd silence of the room. He focused on the ticking of the clock. It

was a nice sound to focus on. It was a constant reminder he was still alive. Even if he wasn't

the happiest in his position, he was alive. 

An alive man that was going to attend a toddler's party with a homemade card that had poorly drawn stickmen inside.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as he finished putting some of the books away. Most of them held no useful information anyhow, and perhaps leaving them out would appear suspicious, should Tubbo return.

He wondered for a brief moment if Ranboo intended on telling Tubbo about Wilbur’s presence in the bunker. He imagined Tubbo insisting on having a talk as soon as Wilbur arrived. Prime, Wilbur despised talks. He just hoped the awkwardness of the interaction, and Ranboo’s apparent secrecy, was enough for Ranboo to leave it out.

Wilbur walked downstairs, finding that his leg had almost healed during his days in the bunker. He was going to harvest some watermelon, simply to pass the time. As he was about to do so, his eyes fell upon something dusty, peeking out of a chest he hadn’t bothered looking much at before. He knew what it was. He closed his eyes momentarily, to get a hold of his thoughts, before walking to the chest, and taking out a dusty mirror. 

He rubbed the shiny end of it with his sleeve. The mirror was still vaguely cloudy, but it still showed him nonetheless. Well- not exactly him, but rather his body. The man who stared back was nearly unrecognizable with gray bruises scattered along his face that easily complemented the bags under his eyes.

Complement was a rather strong word as all of his features seemed off-putting to him. His greasy hair hung close to his pale-ish skin. He squished his face with one of his hands, truly making sure that his reflection was his own. Of course, the mirror version moved along with him, but he strangely wished it didn’t. 

His mind drifted back to his encounter with Ranboo. Had they really intended on inviting Wilbur to the party in the first place? Or had that been done out of pity?

The only good thing about his reflection was that he couldn’t see the burns along his chin anymore. He touched it gently, finding the skin to be a little softer than before. 

He automatically put the mirror down as he headed towards the shower that laid in the bunker. He stopped two steps away as Ghostbur chimed in, “What time is it over there?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” He was pulled out of his thoughts quite easily as he stayed frozen in place.

Confusion laced Ghostbur’s voice, “You can’t check?”

Wilbur shut his eyes tightly for a moment before taking a sharp breath, “I could, but I have to ask you something.”

Wilbur despised the cheeriness in Ghostbur’s response. “Ask away!”

Images of Wilbur’s face flashed through his own mind as he hesitantly asked, “Alright, Ghostie, there’s not an easy way to bring this up.” Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, not wanting to interrupt Wilbur. Despite Wilbur not wanting to continue on, he forced the words out of him, “So- do you know what a shower is?”

“Yeah! It’s one of those plants on the ground with pretty petals.”

A dry chuckle left Wilbur, “No, that’s a flower.”

“Oh. Is it what Tubbo uses in baking?”

Wilbur sighed this time, “No, that’s wheat flour.” As Ghostbur was about to give another guess, Wilbur cut him off, “I’ll just tell you.”

Ghostbur sounded slightly dismayed at his refused answers, “Alright.”

“Alright. Alright,” the words were quiet in his mind as he forced himself back on track. “A shower is something people do to get clean. They use soap and… water to do this.”

“Aww, I was about to guess that too.”

“Right.” It was now or never. “I think I need to take a shower.”

“Okay!”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “You’re… okay with me taking a shower? You know it’s going to require water, right?”

Ghostbur’s breath hitched at the realization. “Ah. I thought you meant soap or water.”

Wilbur exhaled, the tension flowing through his body. “Yeah.”

“So why do you need to take one? I know people in general do it, but you can explain to him that water hurts me.”

Wilbur shook his head, “He can’t know about you.”

Child-like curiosity filled Ghostbur’s voice, but it was slightly dimmer than what it should have been, “Why?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. It was too risky to describe in words. With how little trust Tubbo had in Wilbur, it would most likely foil their plans of Ghostbur’s escape. The suspicion and worry in Tubbo’s eyes wouldn’t temporarily go away at a joke. There wouldn’t be a moment alone with his thoughts as everyone whispered about the mind of his. They wouldn’t say anything bad either, just harsh truths that hurt more than he’d like to imagine. The truths he thought he could escape by finishing his unfinished symphony. 

Wilbur’s failed nation transitioned to a mind that couldn’t go a day without the desperate need to talk to someone again. The need for someone to reassure him he was alive and he wasn’t imagining something in the train station again. He was quite imaginative in there. He made fantasy worlds with so many new people, but at the end of the day, he imagined Tommy by his side laughing or cooking breakfast with Tubbo again. 

On the rougher days, he would imagine Fundy there. Sometimes he talked about his problems to him, only to cry harder when he remembered his son wasn’t actually there. Or he would imagine Niki running a hand through his hair, telling him all the things he needed. He’d been without that real warm touch for thirteen years that holding himself made a shaky sob leave. It had been pathetic of him to imagine such things, but the silence got to you after a few years, after he had spent a long time growing bitter. No one could see him anyway, so maybe it hadn’t counted at all, as he thought about those potential blissful moments.

The moments he never got. Perhaps he was still at the train station after all, the slight buzz of the lights being the only noise he could hear. No one laughed with him when he came back. The most he got was a dry chuckle that he happened to witness. There was no one to hold or listen to him. Not a single person smiled at his return. He was alone in the train station he thought he escaped days ago.

Tears blurred his vision as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pushed his body against a wall as he slid down it. The gray wall that accompanied the gray floors and flickering fluorescent lights. The tunnel that didn’t stop seemed to stop his mind. It blocked him in every direction that led to happiness before his murmuring thoughts entered.

It took a moment to realize it wasn’t his thoughts, but rather an echoy version of them. “Wilbur? Is everything okay?”

Wilbur swallowed back a cry. “Yeah,” his voice shook for a moment as he tried to breathe normally. “Sorry I spaced out for a second.” There wasn’t a train station. He wasn’t back there. He was in the bunker. “What were you saying?”

Ghostbur quietly answered, “Nothing. Oh- earlier you said you wanted to take a shower?”

The words brought Wilbur back to a more tangible reality. “Right…” he said with a nod, pushing himself up from the ground, his posture wavering slightly. He swallowed something in his throat. “Are you… Are you okay with that?” he quickly added, “I’ll make it as brisk as I can I promise! It’ll mostly be to wash my hair, and to look and smell just a little more presentable.”

Ghostbur had very little reason to trust him. Wilbur was incredibly aware of that at this point, his promises losing all meaning at his forgetfulness, or plain dishonesty. “Of course. Just- Just don’t take too long please.”

“I won’t,” Wilbur said. “I promise,” he repeated, trying to add as much weight to the words as he could. Engrave them, so his mind wouldn’t drift away from it. To keep his mind from drifting away in general.

Gently he put his clothes aside, placing the familiar old trenchcoat and blouse in a little pile. He had associated the outfit with himself for so long, that looking at it apart from him, was almost surreal. Slowly, he walked into the shower. He put the temperature to be as cold as he could, unsure if there would even be hot water in a bunker like this. It would serve as a good reminder that he should make this quick. “I am going to turn it on now. It’ll… It’ll probably reach my entire body.” 

“Okay…” Ghostbur said. Wilbur caught himself missing the excitement from when they were making the card together. Frivolous. 

He placed his hand on the shower knob and turned it, careful not to let his hand too much under the water. It proved to be a rather needless endeavor though, as his face and body were immediately drenched in cold water. He immediately shivered from the feeling as he felt his movements become jittery and robotic. He heard hurried breaths from his mind, and whimpers of pain, though it was surprisingly silent this time around.

Wilbur let his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. He grasped some soap next to the shower, and mixed some into his hair and on his body, quickly using the water to wash it off. His heart was beating fast, as he rushed to turn the knob once more, some soap still lingering on a few strands of hair. He bolted to the other side of the room, to dry all the remaining water off with a towel, almost as if the uncomfortably cold water was burning him too. The second he could no longer find a drop he let out a few breaths. “There we go. Done.”

Ghostbur took a moment before he replied, his own breathing calming down as well. “Okay… Okay, that’s good! T-thank you.”

Wilbur cringed slightly at the gratitude, not entirely certain what he was being thanked for. “Of course,” he said quietly, his breathing quite obvious and echo-y in the empty room. He suddenly realized that he missed the ticking of the clock. He shook his head, and put on his clothes again, unsure if the warmth they brought was comfort or something that settled heavier in his chest. He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

He walked out of the room, grabbing the satchel with Michael’s present in it. He glanced at the clock once more, finding that it was only around 5:30am. He stood in the middle of the bunker for a good minute, closing his eyes tightly, and holding on to the sound of the clock. When he opened his eyes once more, they settled on the potions he brewed over the past few days. There weren’t many, but they comforted him nonetheless. He absent-mindedly packed three strength potions into the satchel, perhaps planning on giving some to Tubbo and Ranboo as a gift. 

Then, with determined steps he started walking towards the exit. It felt as if a weight was slightly lifted as he walked out the bunker, though he had grown so used to the weight that he wasn’t sure if that was comforting to him or not. Once he found himself in Pogtopia, he decided to focus on the ground beneath his feet, rather than the buttons lining the walls.

When the sun reached Wilbur’s face, the rays seemed to make his vision less blurry in a sense. The darkness that was so welcoming before, and still called to him, was shoved away in favor of the sunrise.

He remembered right then, when he had declared the first sunrise he saw when he returned, his sunrise. A reminder of life, and opportunity. He stared at the bright sky for a little while. Gently, he placed the satchel on the ground, the glass bottles quietly clinging against each other, and sat down in the grass next to it. He breathed the air into his lungs, as his shoulders untensed. He watched the sunrise intently, as he waited for the party to approach.

[mxflo]

I’m not fine after Kihyun’s cover of Bad ... so imagine this scenario of Kihyun being in a band /vocalist obviously/ and there is the new female drummer aka y/n and guess what ahem ahem

Hi dear, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write this. I had it almost finished and I had technical difficulties and lost everything I had written. It took me a while to feel like coming back to it since I was so bummed about losing all I had written. I hope to do this justice with a fresh mind now. Hope you enjoy it!

Warning: NSFW

“Great job today.” Kihyun smiled.

“Thanks.” You grin shyly back.

You had just finished running through the songs with the new band you just joined. Their original drummer left for personal reasons. Just two weeks ago you made the decision to join after your brother gave them your name and contact info as he used to go to school with Kihyun, the lead singer.

“I was worried about finding a replacement, but all my worries are gone. You’re not allowed to leave us now.” Kihyun winks.

“It helps that I’ve listened to the songs before, and good, I don’t want to leave. It’s been fun, and your songs are great.”

“I have been told you compose songs too?”

“Ummm...if you could a couple of songs, but not really.” 

“I need help with new songs, if your interest?” 

“I can try.” You agree.

You both agree to meet at his house tomorrow evening. On the drive home you call your brother and fill him in on everything. Once you’re off the phone with him and back to your apartment alone, you can’t stop thinking about Kihyun and find yourself feeling nervous about going to his house. You try to ignore the feelings, and going to bed early. 

The next day crawls by. Each hour seemingly taking longer and longer. When you finally pull up in front of Kihyun’s house you take a deep breath and chuckle to yourself about how silly it is to feel this nervous. It’s just working on a few songs with Kihyun. Though this is the first time you’re spending time with him alone. With one more deep breath you get out of your car and head to the door, and ring the door bell. 

“Hey.” Kihyun answers the door as he steps back, inviting you inside. “My studio is this way.” 

Following him to the back room of his house you walk into a room that he made into a little home studio. There’s a couch against the wall opposite from the desk with the computer and keyboard. In the corner next to the computer with foam padding on the walls, there’s a mic on a stand. The desk has papers scattered around the computer and another mic. There’s an untitled track paused on the screen. He pulls up a second chair to the desk and hits play. The track he’s been working on starts and you listen silently. 

“Well?” Kihyun looks to you once it stops. 

“It’s good, but I do have a thought for your bridge.” You admit.

“Let’s hear it.” Kihyun rolls his chair to the side more and pulls your chair more center of the keyboard.

You mess with the keys a bit to get used to the keyboard and soon hit record as you play the idea you had. When your done you stop the recording and hit play again to listen to it all together. “If you don’t like it, I can change it back.” 

“We are keeping it! That’s so much better. Actually gives me another idea...” Kihyun grabs his notebook and starts to scribble a note down. 

You watch him, unaware that you are staring for to long. His hair is slightly falling forward into his eyes as he writes. Your eyes wonder down, his plain white t-shirt is just a loose enough fit to look comfortable.

You realize it’s been silent for a little while and look back to Kihyun’s face, and when your eyes meet his you quickly look away, down at your hands in your lap. Embarrassed to be caught staring at him. 

“Everything okay?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes, sorry.” You sigh. You look back to him. His eyes lock onto yours and your heart races. The corner of his mouth curls up in a slight grin as he tucks your hair behind your ear. 

“Nothing to be sorry over. Shall we work on the next song?”

“Yeah.” You nod, turning your attention back to the computer screen.

“So this song...” He clicks on another he had been working on, “I don’t have much of anything.” 

You listen to the small part he has and when it stops your mind continues it, almost naturally you hear what it should be. Quickly leaning to the keyboard to you start recording as you play what is in your mind. When you done you hit play and look to Kihyun, and he listens to it all together he smiles widely, approving. 

“How did you do that so fast?” He asks.

“It just popped into my mind.” You shrug. “So what about the lyrics?” 

“I don’t have any yet.” He lifts his notebook and gently tosses it back on the desk. “I have a lot of ideas in this, but not sure anything will fit for this.”

You grab the notebook and look at Kihyun, when he nods you start to look through it. Kihyun goes to grab a glass of water. He offers you some, but you turn it down. When he returns he leans over you, looking to see what page your reading. One hand on the desk beside you, you feel his warmth behind you.

“This song, the lyrics are great. It looks done though?” You ask looking back over your shoulder at him. He’s just inches away from you and your breath catches.

He starts to softly sing the melody, once he gets the feel of it again he sings more confidently. Hearing him sing to you makes your stomach flip. Your arms get covered in goosebumps. It’s beautiful and when he finishes it you just stare at him.

“What?” He asks.

“Kihyun, it’s perfect.”

“It’s not a great sound for the band though.” He shrugs. 

“You should still record this.” You argue.

“Maybe.”

You playfully smack his arm. “You better.” Without missing a beat he spins your chair around so your facing him. 

“I better?” He lifts one eyebrow. 

“I won’t leave until you do.” You sit back more in your chair, to further the point that you would sit there until he records it.

“That isn’t motivation if I don’t want you to leave.” Kihyun says as he places his hands on either side of you on the desk that is now behind you. Leaning down to you, there isn’t much space between you two.

Shocked by his words your speechless, but you see his eyes fall to your lips. He takes one hand, cupping your cheek as he uses his thumb to pull your lower lip from your teeth. You hadn’t realized you had been biting your lip. He looks back to your eyes, searching your expression. 

“Kihyun...” you whisper. 

“Hmm?” He guides your face towards him slightly. His lips now hovering over yours. 

You press your lips to his in a quick, soft kiss. The tension between you two breaks as he pulls you back to him. Your hand grabs onto the side of his shirt as he kisses you deeply. His second hand guides you to stand with him and you throw your arms around his neck as his hands pull you against his body. He breaks the kiss only to move to your neck. Letting your head fall back to give him easier access you let out a soft moan. His grip on you strengthens hearing you react to him.

“Come on.” Kihyun almost growls as he starts to lead to out of the room.

Guiding you to his bedroom he continues to shower you with kisses as you start to pull at his clothes. After you both are rid of your clothes and inside of his room he lays you on the bed. His hands on your knees as leans down to kiss your thighs. You gasp as you feel his teeth gently rake against the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. He slowly runs a finger to your center.

“Fuck baby.” He sighs as he feels how ready you are for him. He slips two fingers inside and your walls clinch around them as he draws a whimper from you. You grip the bed sheets as he continues to work his fingers to bring you closer and closer to your release. 

“Kihyun...” You moan. So close to the edge, but he stops and withdraws his fingers. 

You cry out in protest, but he smiles in return. “Not yet.” He smirks as he licks you off of his fingers. 

“Please.” You plea. 

“Don’t worry, you will cum, but only when I let you.” He grins as he centers himself between your legs. He grinds against you, his hard length pressing where you want him most. Pressing gently he guides himself inside of you. Slowly sinking all the way into you, you both moan. He lets you adjust to him before he moves again. When you go to rock your hips, needing to feel him, he takes the hint and draws his hips back slowly. Your walls clinching down around him he drops his head to your neck, biting it as he groans. 

Without warning he slams all the way back inside of you and you cry out as the sudden fullness from him. Now finding his rhythm he thrusts repeatedly deep into you hitting that spot just right. You feel yourself getting closer and closer again. He claims your mouth with his in a deep kiss again as he feels you nearing your climax. 

Your walls tighten even more around him. “Fuck.” He hisses. His thrusts become faster. “Cum for me.” He whispers in your ear.

Seconds later you do just that, as he pushes you over the edge and waves of pleasure shake through your entire body. He follows behind you, as you push him over the edge. 

He slows with each thrust until he stops, still inside of you. Kissing you deeply, he rolls, keeping you with him so you are now on top of him. His hands roaming your body. You break the kiss and sigh as his mouth trails soft, gentle kisses down your neck, to your collarbone. 

“Kihyun...” You pant.

He continues to leave kisses on your heated skin.

“Kihyun...We...Shouldn’t....” You try to form the words to express how bad this could be for the band and that this needs to be a one time thing, but he starts to rock his hips into you again and you loose your train of thought. Feeling him side of you getting harder once again you close your eyes.

“Shouldn’t? No. I’ve felt this since the first day I saw you play. I want this, you.” He grips your hips, guiding you to move, matching his movements just right. He groans. 

“...But....” You try to protest. 

“Do you want this?” He asks as he bucks his hips into you with a single powerful thrust. 

“....Yes...” You admit. 

“Then let it be.” Kihyun stills and waits for you to look at him. “Lets just see how things go. Don’t overthink it.”

You nod and he pulls you down into another kiss before rolling you back under him. 

[futurequeenofravka]

Good Enough - Sirius x Reader

Summary:

After a spat with a Slytherin girl in your year, you’ve start to doubt your relationship with Sirius Black. While you are wildly in love with him, you start to question why he chose you, a “mudblood.”

Warnings: None, I don’t think? Just a little angsty!

A/N: this is my first piece! it’s a lil test of a fic I’d like to write eventually, and it was prompted by mmfd so I decided to tweak the dialogue from the show a little to make it wizarding world esque hahah. But I hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading, this is the first time I’ve ever shared my creative writing online so please let me know what you think (also please send requests)! Also sorry if the formatting looks a lil weird, posting this from my phone made it kinda wonky.

Word count: 2.2k-ish words.

—

Pst. Psssst.

Sirius’s whisper grew louder until I looked over my shoulder to where he and James were sitting a few desks back from Lily and I. He tried to silently mouth a question as Professor Binns droned on about last night’s reading. James and Lily quietly laughed as they watched Sirius try to repeat himself a number of times before ultimately giving up. I shot him an apologetic look for my lip reading skills, or I guess lack thereof, as I watched him rip up a piece of parchment and scribble down a message. He waited for a spare moment in which Binns had his back turned to the class to write something on the chalkboard and then tossed the crumpled up piece of paper at me.

“What’s it say?” Lily asked as I unfolded the piece of parchment that Sirius had thrown my way.

“Blimey is he fucking annoying.” I said letting out a small laugh as I read the note.

“Well?” She leaned in closer trying to read the note from over my shoulder.

I slid the parchment across our shared desk so that she could read the message as well. Hi. I just wanted to say you look beautiful today. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at 7? Lily sarcastically groaned as she slid the note back over to me and we pretended to go back to our class work. I turned back around to see Sirius intently waiting for my answer, I rolled my eyes at the silly gesture but smiled as I gave him a small nod to confirm our meeting later.

“You two are so sickly sweet sometimes, honestly I think I might have a toothache.” She said loud enough to provoke a laugh from James who eyed her from a few desks over.

“Beats the headache I get from watching you and Potter dodge your feelings for each other.” I retorted, quietly laughing as I tried to refocus my attention back to my textbook.

After class had ended I said bye to Lily as I made my way to the library to study for my potions exam. Sirius had already promised James that he’d come watch the Gryffindors practice for the upcoming Quidditch match so I’d have to study alone today, which I didn’t particularly mind because usually with Sirius around I hardly got any studying done. He pressed a kiss on my temple before we parted ways. When I got to the library I took a seat in the corner as usual and began to sprawl my textbooks across the table.

In the midst of studying I heard giggles from a herd of girls a few tables over. Looking over I met eyes with Ianthe, a Slytherin also in sixth year, who was sitting alongside Sirius’s cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa. Though I had never spoken more than a few words to either of them, I knew I was not favored in the Black household. If anything, they probably hated me; although Sirius would never burden me with that confirmation, I knew how his family felt about me and “my kind.”

Being muggle born was still a rarity at Hogwarts, and one that pureblood families often had strong feelings against. Lily and I became fast friends because of this. Being two of the only Muggle born students at Hogwarts made fitting in quite hard sometimes. There were often things that we didn’t understand or we lost on. We relied on Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas a lot for explanations and now as of recently on the “Marauders,” as they called themselves, as well. But it was comforting to have Lily around, to have someone who understood experiences unique to us. Someone who understood what it felt like to miss basic muggle things while away at school, like televisions or even just pens.

I rolled my eyes at the giggling girls and went back to reading the next chapter in my textbook. Several minutes passed before my studying was interrupted again, this time I looked up to see the three slender girls approaching my table, a wicked grin plastered across each of their faces as they surrounded my table.

“Can I help you?” I breathed looking up from my book.

“Yes actually. Would you mind backing off of Sirius?” Ianthe mused as she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” I asked, Bellatrix laughed at my response, a cackle echoing across the room.

“I thought dating you would just be his latest phase but it’s been almost 6 months. I expected that he’d come crawling back to me by now but you seem to be standing in my way.” Ianthe ran her fingers over my notes and shuffled my things around as she spoke.

“In your way of what? Stealing my boyfriend?”

“Precisely.” Narcissa chimed in from behind the blonde haired girl.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s kind of pathetic how you constantly follow Sirius around like a puppy dog. One day I’m sure he’ll bore of having a little pet mudblood and finally come back to his senses.” Bellatrix said, her tone was cold and cruel as she knocked over a few of my things and proceeded with a sarcastic oops.

“I mean our families have been practically planning our wedding since before we were even born.” Ianthe said trying to refocus my attention back on her.

“Shove off, the lot of you.” I said trying to ignore anymore of their remarks.

“Feisty today aren’t we, Y/N. I would’ve never expected such boldness from a filthy little mud blood.” Bellatrix said cackling again.

“Just leave me alone please.” My voice strained this time.

“You really do ruin all the fun, don’t you, Y/L/N? But before we go, I just have to ask, dear. Does our darling Padfoot still like to have his neck kissed? You know, just above that mole.” Ianthe tapped her finger to the side of her neck.

“You’re all sick.”

“Maybe but at least we don’t have dirty blood.”

My heart beat fast as I picked up my belongings from off the ground, desperately trying to get out of the library as quickly as possible. I ran through the corridors back toward Gryffindor tower, tears welling up in my eyes and slowly beginning to fall despite my best efforts to hold them back. I ran past the other students and back to my dormitory praying that it would actually be empty for once. It was not. Lily was sat on her bed reading a book when she looked up to see me tears running down my face while I tried to keep a cool demeanor. Her face cloaked in worry as she asked if I was okay, her words triggered a visceral reaction as I finally let myself break down in tears. She came over to me and brought me back to her bed and hugged me for a moment, stroking my back waiting until I was ready to speak.

After my sobs and sniffles had mostly come to a stop I recounted the entirety of what had happened in the library. Sharing the words exchanged between me and the three Slytherin girls and the doubt that now seeped into my mind. Lily fumed, her anger rising as she listened to me talk about what had happened.

“Y/N, you don’t actually believe that do you?” She asked, her face still cloaked with worry.

“I mean why shouldn’t I? She’s right, I’ve seen the way people look at us.”

“What does it matter what they think?”

“It’s not what they think, it’s the fact that they’re right. You know exactly how Sirius’ family is, I’m probably just another conquest to him. Girls like Ianthe were bred to marry boys like him, to protect their bloodlines. They’ve basically been betrothed since birth, Lily!”

“Sirius is his own person. He is not his family. You should know better than anyone that that boy lives to break rules. And I seriously doubt it but if he doesn’t appreciate how absolutely brilliant you are just because you were muggle born then he’s not worth your time.”

I knew Lily was right, it was rare that she wasn’t. But my mind still wandered to a dark place that echoed with Ianthe’s comments. She stayed with me for another hour or so before she got ready to go over to the Great Hall for dinner. I didn’t realize how long we had been sitting in the dorm. I looked over at the clock surprised to see it was almost 7. I promised Sirius I’d meet him in the astronomy tower soon. Surely I couldn’t face him after what had just happened but my heart hurt thinking about standing him up.

“You going to be alright?” Lily asked before heading out the door.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll see you later.” I reassured her.

“Alright, if you need anything just give a shout.”

I sighed as she closed the door and headed off. I looked down at my mascara stained sleeves and quickly changed into a clean shirt and wiped away the smeared makeup from beneath my eyes. Regardless of how I felt, I had to face Sirius.

I walked through the empty halls over to the Astronomy tower. Springtime at Hogwarts had an underrated charm to it. The weather was ideal, chill but not too cold. Tonight was no different, the air tonight was crisp, the wind blew gently through my hair as I made my way up the winding staircase. When I made it to the very top I saw Sirius gazing across the school grounds. His face looking intently over the beautifully crafted buildings and through the lush forests around us. I stayed silent for a minute just to admire him. The handsome playboy that I always thought I loathed but whom had somehow not only stolen my heart but had also become my best friend.

When he finally sensed my presence he turned around, my heart fluttered just looking at the kind, dopey smile wiped across his face as he held out his hand for me. When I grabbed it, he pulled me in close. My face buried into his chest as he held me for a minute. I looked behind him to see a blanket laid across the ground a small picnic set up for us.

“Remus helped me bribe the house elves into sneaking me some food so we could have dinner up here.” He excitedly motioned over to the set up.

“It looks lovely, Sirius.” I spoke softly as if my words could be broken with just a tap.

“What’s wrong? Oh Merlin, you hate it, don’t you?” He asked worriedly.

“No it’s not that, it really is lovely. I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you’re doing this for me. You’re a pureblood and I’m...I’m a mudblood.” I took a step away from him, letting go on my grasp on his hand.

“What does that have to do with anything? You know I’ve never cared about any of that.”

“You should be going out with someone like Ianthe, not someone like me. Most people when they see us must be thinking, ‘oh he must be mad going out with that.’”

“That what” he said before raising his voice to echo the question, “that what?”

“You know exactly what, Sirius. Everyone does.”

“What the fuck are you on about? What does everyone have to do with how I feel about you? You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t fancy. That’s mine and mine alone. Now are you going to stop being a git or what?”

“Stop calling me a git, you’re the git.” I said trying to shove him away but his hands grasped my wrists before I could make my move.

Before I could say another word he crashed his lips into mine. His hands now releasing his grip on my wrists and instead caressing my face. Sirius had kissed me many times before but never with such urgency, like his life depended on it. Like if he didn’t kiss me in this exact moment that he’d never get to again. My hands now pressed up against his chest pulling him in closer to me as I savored the taste of him until we were breathless.

“You’re the git.” I whispered as we pressed our foreheads together, he let out a small laugh at my comment before he spoke again.

“Those twats, they aren’t my family. You are.” His thumb caressing my cheek softly.

“Sirius, I just—“

“You are my family.” He said firmly cutting me off before I could finish my sentence.

“Okay, you say that now but I just hate the idea that you’re choosing me over them. I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret your choice and start to resent me forever. I mean they’re your family, Sirius.” I rambled as doubt still riddled my brain.

“Y/N, listen to me, I will always choose you. I choose you today, tomorrow, and I’ll choose you forever for the rest of our lives. You are the only thing in this entire world I care about.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Yes, just maybe not to James, Remus, and Peter. I think they might burst into tears.” He let out loud laugh as he responded to my question.

“I won’t lie, I’d like to see that.”

“I bet you would. Now can we please eat dinner, I paid off the house elves 10 galleons each just so that they would make your favorite!”



[atalho-s]

Sweet Sugar

4 | Crosses

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: swear words, underage drinking (not much tho, nothing descritive and nothing like “Skins” lmao), suggestive scenes in some chapters, not smut!! but minors be aware. Fluff/angst/drama/ Y/n and Tom being stupid teenagers with feelings.

words: 2.5 k

a/n: english it’s not my first language, Sorry for any mistakes! If you want to be tag on the next chapters, please let me know

Summary: Y/n, Harrison and Tom has always been best friends. Since childhood they’ve always been close, but what happens if after a break up with her first boyfriend, she starts to feel something more about Tom

PART 4! If you want to read the other parts click here

❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁

I woke up the other day feeling a little better, which was good. I washed my face thoroughly, put on a pair of jeans, a Beatles T-shirt along with a jacket and left my room, ready for another week of torture.

- Good morning mom... - I was saying going down the stairs, but I remembered that she had already left for work. Which was good, because that way I didn't have to talk about the party.

I had my coffee, in the silenc  and soon after opened my phone, until I got on Instagram and saw that Tom had posted pictures of the party. The caption said: Thank you all! you guys are awesome! The photos from the party were great 😂

I was scrolling the photos, the first ones were all of us at the table, some were blurry of the people dancing... until I saw one of him with other people from school: Meghan was hugged him from the side making the peace sign with her fingers and he was kissing the top of her head. I sighed feeling my eyes fill with tears again. Okay, maybe I wasn't as ok as I thought.

I blocked my phone and put it in my pocket, taking my backpack and leaving the house, otherwise I would going to be late. I had to focus on school, not crying for silly things, I had to pay attention in my tests, that was more important than anything.

I went down the street and found Haz already waiting for me in the same place, I approached him and when he looked at my face, he made a pitying one.

- You saw the photos didn't you? - he asked and I nodded as he hugged me.

- It's alright Haz, I'll be fine- I said releasing him after a few seconds and he looked at me raising an eyebrow doubtingly - It's no big deal! By the way, I won't talk about it anymore, if we don't go now, we'll be late for school. - I said pulling him and we started walking.

- Okay... But just to close this subject, Tom sent me a message yesterday asking if you were okay and if there was anything wrong because you left early without saying goodbye.

- Hmm, and you didn't say anything right?

- Of course not! I just said that you weren't very used to drinking and that was all, and he believed... - Haz said and I breathed a sigh of relief.

- Good... He also texted me yesterday, he even wanted me to go to his house to tell me about Meghan.

- Well, whether way, he still thinks he's your best friend, nothing more than that...- Haz said, and I hated that he was right.

- It's true, and he's just my best friend, nothing more... - I emphasized the JUST- Did he tell you anything else about Meghan? - I asked and when Haz was going to answer I cut him - Never mind, It’s better if i don’t know. - I said waving my hand in the air.

- If you want it that way... - he replied. - Oh god you two have the same class today right? - he asked and I put my hand in my forehead. I had forgotten that I had English today for the first two classes and Tom would be sitting right next to me.

- I had even forgotten about that. But you know what? I'm going to stay there like a champ and ignore everything. - I said determined and Haz laughed feeling a little sad for me.

- Okay, I support that, but...- he was talking and I cut him again saying: shhh.

- No buts, and now enough of this subject, because we're already arriving. - I said and he rolled his eyes in agreement.

We arrived at the corner and Tom was already waiting for us as usual. He wore a blue sweatshirt and a backwards cap, black jeans and white sneakers. Obviously he was gorgeous as usual, which was ridiculous, but no sign of Meghan, which was good for now...

I tightened my grip on Haz's arm that I was hooked on and he smiled encouragingly. We got closer and Tom looked up from his phone, hanging up and putting it in his pocket.

- Hey strangers! - He said putting the backpack on his back, shaking hands with Haz and me with the usual kiss on the forehead. I lowered my eyes, smelling his scent and smirked. - You better y/n?

- I am, staying in bed all day yesterday did me good. - I said as we headed towards the stairs.

- That's good! And even better that now you have two classes with me- he said winking and Haz looked at me apprehensively.

- HA-HA, very funny. Too bad I'll have to pay attention in class and I won't be able to talk to you. - I said shrugging and Tom looked at me with an ironic face.

- Wow shortie, I felt rejected now. - He said pouting and I rolled my eyes. Of rejection I knew well.

- Well, I have to go because I have a presentation about geography, so, see you guys later? - Haz said when we arrived in the hallway, waving and looking at me discreetly as if he was saying: good luck.

- Let's go, grumpy face? - Tom said pointed for me to go ahead. I rolled my eyes looking at him, which he laughed and we went to the class.

I sat a little further back in my usual seat and Tom sat behind me. I was feeling claustrophobic, but it was only two classes, I could survive this. But when Mr. Ribbs came into the room and started talking, I lost all courage i had.

- Good morning students! Today the two classes will be more dynamic. As I know you had a difficult week, with so many papers and tests, I decided to leave these classes for you to go to the library and pick up any book to read and then give me a summary about it. - he was talking and I was excited, because I loved reading and I could still get my book and be quiet without having to talk to Tom, right? - But... I want you to do this in pairs. - wrong - Happy reading! - He said and everyone stood up forming their pairs and leaving the room one by one.

I felt someone nudge my shoulder and tooking a deep breath I turned around, seeing a smiling Tom.

- Good, reading... At least you like to read, because I with my dyslexia... - he laughed.

- Yeah good... it fit like a glove... Shall we go? - I said and we got up going towards the library. If Tom thought my way of talking was a little dry, he didn't react, which was good.

We arrived at the library and I was looking among the shelves for something easy and good for us to read.

- Y/n, darling... I have to tell you about yesterday - Tom started talking excitedly as he followed me through the halls. - After you and Haz left, a lot things happened...

- Hmm, I'm glad you had fun Tom. - I said a little disinterested picking up some books and looking at the synopsis.

- Yea! I had a lot of fun, but what happened was...

- Hey, how about we read Pride and Prejudice? It's one of my favorites, I think it's a good one, because we just need to read the main parts to refresh our memory. - I said, interrupting him.

-Yeah... Sure, I think it's a good one. - he said as I grabbed Jane Austen's book off the shelf and headed toward one of the tables.

- Shortie, how about if we read this outside? I think it's better than staying here, besides, we can talk better. - Tom said and I stopped turning around. Damn it, I was counting on staying there in the library anyway, so he wouldn't be able to say anything about the night before, because they were going to tell him to be quiet.

- Okay, good idea... - I said, giving up on to try to inventing another excuse.

We left the library and headed towards some tables outside. They were empty, except for a couple of couples scattered around the yard who had the same idea. I sat down and Tom sat next to me putting the book on the table and pulling out his notebook so we could write something down.

- So, as I was saying... We were on the dance floor, right, and Meghan and I were talking about the theater and other things, until... Guess what? - He started talking and I raised my eyebrow, while trying to distract myself with the book. - She said she thought I was cute and that I had a cute, sexy look. - He continued and I laughed ironically.

- So far so good, right... Until she just kissed me in the middle of the dance floor! - He said as if it were the most extraordinary thing in the world. Yeah, I thought with myself, I was there and saw everything, that's why I'm feeling bad and I can't even look at your face right now... I wanted to say it, but I just looked at him pretending to be interested.

- And mate, it was the best kiss of my life! We stayed together practically all night... Damn, I've dreamed about this so much since childhood...

- Good Tom, it must have been a really good birthday gift, right? - I said, looking at the book again.

- Yea! It was perfect...- he said and I could feel him staring at me. - Hey, you don't seem very excited about my little conquest... - he nudged me pouting and I looked at him.

- Nah, it's just that you guys are always hooking up lately, so I'm just not surprised...- I replied shrugging.

- Y/n Meghan is not just a hook up, she is an old passion, she is special - he said and I felt my heart ache a little while looking away. - You dont like her?

- It's not that I don't like her... I don't even know her, I just... I think she did it after you started getting more popular with the theater, because before that she didn't even look at you...

- That's not true, besides, people can change right? Maybe she realized that I'm not as bad as she thought before... I don't know... But as you said, you don't even know her, so I didn't understand you being mad like that. -he said scribbling in his notebook.

- It's not that I'm mad, I just... I didn't wake up very well today, that's all... 

- Yeah... But you don't need to project that to others around you, I thought you'd be happy for me.- Tom said and I looked at him ironically.

- Yeah, but there are days when we're not okay Thomas and not in the mood to be throwing confetti at every girl your friend kiss at some party. - I said and regretted it right away, it wasn't fair to him.

Tom looked at me in surprise, as I had never talk with him like that. Even as kids we didn't fight, why was I being such a bitch now? He took his things in silence and walked away leaving me with tears in my eyes.

I shook my head trying to get rid of what had just happened. I picked up the book and tried to read it, but I couldn't even get past the first line. Damn, why did I have to have those feelings? It wasn't fair.

I thought about going after Tom and apologizing, but I don't think he wanted to see me right now. A few minutes passed and the class was almost finishing when I felt someone nudge my shoulder. I turned in hopes of seeing Tom, but was surprised to see Steven standing up in front of me.

- Are you okay? I heard you fighting with Tom earlier, I never saw you guys fight like that, so I was worried. - he asked.

- I'm fine Stev, it was just a silly disagreement, nothing to worry about. Are you okay? - I asked trying to change the subject.

- Yeah, just studying a lot, you know, I have to go to business school. - he said and I agreed. Steven always wanted to work at his father's company, but for that he had to go to business school in Japan, because there was one of the company's units there and that's where his father wanted him to live. A lot of his family was Japanese, so he had an advantage with the language and culture. But that was one of the reasons we broke up, after fighting a lot about who was going to live where. - And you still focused on journalism?

- Of course, forever and always. - I said and we laughed, hearing the bell saying the class are over.

- Well, I have to go, I have to meet Elle, good luck with your essay. - He said pointing to the book.

- For you too. - I said smiling and he left towards the building.

I got up to get my things, scanning the yard with my eyes, but there was no sign of Tom. I sighed and put my headphones on, heading towards our tree. As I was already out there I ended up arriving first, so I sat down and played the song Crosses by José González.

I waited a few minutes and saw Haz approaching and I took off my headphones as I watched him sit beside me.

- So..How everything went? Where is Tom?-  he asked looking around.

- A disaster... - I said, rubbing my hands over my face. - We ended up arguing, I said some things without thinking and he left without saying anything.

- Oh y/n... I don't even know what to say, but did you confess something to him? he asked and I widened my eyes.

- No! Are you crazy? I told him I didn't trust Meghan, but in a rude way... - I said and Haz took a deep breath hugging me sideways.

- Well, you can't control your feelings...

- But I can control my tongue. - I said and we laughed a little. - How was it with Gracie? Did you guys talked today? - I said changing the subject.

- I talked to her a lot by text during class, I even asked her if she wanted to spend some time with us now, but she said she had to hang with her friends...

- Hmm. - I said putting my hand on my chin losing myself in thoughts as I watched the patio to see if I could see Tom. And after a lot of looking I found him. And there he was sitting on one of the benches near the building with Meghan hugging him, she with his cap on her head and the two of them were laughing and talking excitedly to each other. Until he gave her a kiss and she reciprocated.

[ddaehyeon]

ophiuchus - you have this limited stack of sticky notes. write whatever you want on it, and that note would magically appear somewhere in your soulmate’s line of sight during that day.

send me a member and a constellation!

— pairing: jung subin + gn!reader

— genre: fluff, soulmate au, office au

— word count: 1.5k

— requested ☆ victon masterlist

today will be the start.

that was the words scribbled on a blue sticky note you kept in between the pages of your favorite book. the last note you received from your soulmate. you randomly found it by your desk as you were working on your resume for a manufacturing company you were trying to get into. months had passed since you last got a note, so you assumed it was your soulmate’s final words to you.

a fascinating way to get to know your soulmate, although you doubt you ever got the chance to send your soulmate any type of notes. you can’t remember having that limited stack of sticky notes similar to what your friends would gush about during college. and your soulmate wasn’t too keen on giving off their identity either, settling for a few words of encouragement every other day and sometimes, random words. like really random ones. there was even a time they sent off a what seemed to be a grocery list.

though you got a hold of their last note, their other notes were no longer with you. with most of it only appearing in your line of sight, either too far to be reached or too awkward to pick up.

“good morning, you’re the new analyst, right?” a man with towering height greeted you, slumping a box on your table. things you supposed were necessary for your job. you peered over their id, their smiling photograph looking back at you. choi byungchan.

“i am.” a small curve made its way to your brim, lighting up your face a bit. though there was no point in denying that you were actually worried about what you were to do. the new environment adequate for your stomach to twist in both nervousness and excitement.

byungchan looked at the close area, the nearest cubicles were ones occupied by employees who probably had started their day way too early. already in the middle of typing out reports, with some answering phone calls and pacing in and out of the area. “our advertising manager is scary.”

a clearing of the throat stopped you from whatever question you were to throw as to why byungchan said that. another guy appeared next to your cubicle, he was holding a couple of brown envelopes. “am i?”

you shot a look on his id, his name easily spotted. jung subin. underneath, his title proudly printed. he was the advertising manager.

“just kidding.” byungchan let out a chuckle before grinning to the other. waving in your direction before leaving your cubicle.

subin watched him all along before he stepped closer to you, placing what he was carrying on the table. it was a few clippings and report summary of the former trends and advertising plans. “i compiled everything that you might need there, on the sticky note my email’s written. if ever you need additional data, just send me a message.”

“thank you,” you said with a nod. opposite to what byungchan had warned, subin wasn’t really scary. though you had to agree that his sharp look made him somewhat intimidating. gazing at the sticky note stuck on the top of the envelope, a cold feeling crawled onto your skin. breathe immediately sucked in, heart missing one beat— wait a minute.

“is something wrong?” subin asked, halting your train of thoughts, but not the trail of sensation that was rapidly setting in your body.

you shook your head, unable to commit to any verbal response.

his writing was familiar.

awfully familiar.

never did the idea leave your mind. for good days it remained there.

subin wasn’t in his office when you got there. you’d simply leave the files he had asked for only if you didn’t need some other monthly data. quite urgent of a need that you were willing to wait just a little bit until his meeting ends.

unable to hold still in sitting on the couch, you stood and wandered around his office. supplies tidily stacked on the shelves, a pile of documents on his table, most of the former advertising campaigns stuck on the bulletin adjacent to the sofa. the thing that caught your eyes the most was the handwritten weekly schedule. his handwriting.

once again, you ended up having a staring game with the paper. trying to analyze it as if it was your schedule, when in fact you were not really paying attention to what was written. all your focus fixated on how it was written. curving in rush, yet still neat.

the door swung open almost inaudibly or perhaps you were simply lost with your thoughts that you failed to perceive it. not until subin’s voice echoed in your ears as he stood behind you did you notice that he was already back.

“i’m free this weekend,” subin casually said, a chuckle heard from him afterward as he walked towards his table to settle down his notebook.

you shook your head, a little abashed of how he caught you in the act of staring at his writing. oh well, his weekly schedule. “that’s not it.”

nodding his head, he sat down on his chair. “then why were you looking at my schedule ever so intently?”

“just…” stepping away from the bulletin, you walked closer to his table. for a moment, you contemplated whether to tell him about your thoughts or not. but there was nothing weird with finding someone’s handwriting familiar, right? it wasn’t such a strange thing, right? meeting his gaze was enough of a reassurance, quite inquisitive too. “i think your handwriting is familiar.”

“it is?” he raised a brow at your words. “what do you mean?”

unsure of what to say, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. “today will be the start.”

the puzzlement that came across his features allowed an awkward smile to come to your lips. maybe it was some kind of coincidence. he wasn’t that person, no? admittedly, that was quite a disappointment. you shook your head in an attempt to take the words back. “nevermind.”

that was ignored though, subin’s frown melted upon a realization. “so you were that person who kept on sending those animal doodles when i was a kid?”

and it was your turn to be confused. “what?”

a knowing smile lit upon his lips, welcoming and a bit nostalgic. eyes discerning, warm gaze as if he had found someone he had been looking for. “do you not remember drawing something on a paper and it disappearing?”

“wait, so you mean—”

there were only a few instances it occurred or at least that was the depth your memories could still recognize. around kindergarten, you had this notepad that you weren’t entirely sure how you got. its pages were pigmented in bright and whimsical colors. and you filled it with the same amount of playfulness through doodles of animals and flowers, most were silly, but fun to make. however, none of it lasted in the notepad, all disappearing after the day it was drawn. you didn’t mind though, thinking that perhaps someone just pulled it off or it just magically vanished.

it was magical, yes, but it didn’t just disappear.

“i even have most of it kept,” subin confirmed, pulling a drawer and retrieving his keys from it. lifting his hand, he revealed a keyring that had a small drawing of a bunny locked on it. the color of the paper familiar to you, regardless of the many shades of color there was. its blue tone was distinct. “this drawing was from you?”

you took a few steps closer to him to study the keychain which he ended up handing to you. shooting him a look, a question slipped out of your tongue. “you mean you were actually able to get some sticky notes from me?”

subin bobbed his head up and down, his smile spreading in delight. “when we were younger.”

later that day, subin insisted on walking you to the bus stop. the remaining rays of sunlight brushes upon your figure, two shadows moving from behind as the two of you strolled on the sidewalk. you were unable to hold any more conversations earlier due to the other office tasks both of you had to work on.

“so why haven’t you been writing?” you asked, breaking the silence that had been existing ever since you stepped out of the building.

subin shrugged. “i ran out of it.”

“i see.” you nodded at his words, feet stopping in one go when you thought of another question. something you’d been curious about. “what do you mean by ‘today will be the start’ on your last note?”

“oh that?” subin’s track halted as well, a moment taken to look at the sky. the colors altering to what seemed to have been the pigments of the sticky notes the two of you had exchanged— of orange and red. “it just meant that from that day onwards, i will simply allow fate to work, to bring us together.”

he turned to look at you, the curve on his lips was able to spark a glimmer in his eyes. “and it seems like it did.”

[myelocin]

The Gratitude in Endings | Miya Atsumu, You, Kuroo Tetsurou

Synopsis: What follows endings always were the most beautiful things. In this case, after Kuroo Tetsurou, came Miya Atsumu--and for you, nothing could truly be better. 

**This is the epilogue to Redefining You (Part 1) and  To Us, A Love Story Unwritten (Part 2)! 

Characters: Miya Atsumu, You Kuroo Tetsurou

Genre/Tags/Warnings: No warnings! Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Bestfriend!Kuroo, Reader/Atsumu, Kinda a love triangle i guess lol

WC: 2.8k+

a/n: i,,,, have not let go of this AU and will probably not let go until a long time. i’m planning on writing drabbles in this certain AU soon, but for now enjoy this epilogue!

-

You suppose happy endings is the sort of cliché you’ve been wanting to avoid this whole time. After all, you’re still only in your late twenties and even if you’ve crossed some things off of your bucket list—there were still pages you’ve yet to even flip through.

Life, to you, is a constant work in progress; all you’ve known were only beginnings but the reality is there is still never an end. From the second you opened your eyes and sucked in your first breath of air, day by day you continue to leave a mark in the world.

The stories you’ve scribbled in paper, the secrets you’ve whispered to willing ears, photographs of your claim in that snapshot of the world, and the connections you’ve made—those are the things that last and remain even after you’ve gone to cross new horizons.

Life—much like yourself will always just be a work in progress.

Whether it be the ink on your skin that’s yet to be connected to another work of art or waking up to a new morning wondering how differently Atsumu’s hair will look curled around your fingers this time.

Every day that you spent watching the sun rising and setting in his eyes never failed to leave you breathless.

-

It shouldn’t have surprised you when Atsumu adjusted himself with the beat of your life quite naturally. After reconnecting in the airport, Tetsurou didn’t even have to sit you down to talk to you about his reappearance in your life.

Literally, after Bokuto landed, he left the airport that day without you and texted you that this was your chance to go home with, as Tetsurou said in verbatim, your “long lost love.”

According to him, after showing up in your weekly dinners at Kenma with Atsumu trailing behind you—that it was all part of his plan for he was the best wing man you could ever ask for.

After that self-proclamation, you and Kenma responded to his statement by simultaneously rolling your eyes. Atsumu, beside you, was apparently polite enough to laugh. Tetsurou was quick to stride over to him, clap him on the back of the shoulder and declare, “You both suck, but at least Miya-san has enough taste to recognize my genius work.”

“Please,” Atsumu laughed and clapped Tetsurou on the shoulder, “Atsumu is just fine.” From your place in the table, you smiled at Atsumu beaming up at Tetsurou, with your best friend returning the same energy.

“I think they’ll get along.” Kenma says and you smile, feeling your heart swell.

“They will,” you reply, and in return Kenma smiles because the both of you truly believe your words.

-

There were still moments you see Tetsurou break down. Eventually the ink climbs up higher and higher on his shoulders until you eventually see it peeking above the collar of his shirts. You have half the mind to ask, but at the same time, when Atsumu drapes his hands over your shoulders and you spot Tetsurou look away and bark out another joke—you decide against it.

“Are you happy?” Tetsurou asked you one day and you could almost laugh at how ironic the setting was. The two of you, along with Kenma had gone with Atsumu and the rest of MSBY in their team trip to a lake house ways from the city.

He asked that question when you joined him on the balcony one morning, a mug of coffee outstretched in offering to him. If it wasn’t for the morning fog clouding your hazy thoughts, you figured you would have caught on a lot quicker than you did—but at the moment, all you could think about was how warm Atsumu’s jacket was wrapped around you and how the roots of his natural hair were starting to peek through from what you observed earlier that morning.

Tetsurou smiled a thank you at the mug of coffee you offered him and motioned for you to take a seat next to him. He doesn’t ask the question again, but you spend the next few minutes of silence mulling about how the morning air brought bouts of nostalgia.

“I’m really happy, Tetsu.” You say and look at him, and you suddenly feel a little choked up. You blame the cold air for the blur in your eyes because when he smiles and wraps the blanket around him tighter while taking slow sips of his coffee you suddenly remember the moment you fell in love with him all those years ago.

In the solitude of the early hours, you’re brought back to the world from more than ten years ago and see the boy who spent his mornings with you through the pixilation of a computer screen. Your heart still beats with a fondness only attributed for him, but you suppose even the rhythm doesn’t flow the same way—you still love him.

And when he opens his eyes, red and teary and cheeks flushed, the fondness in his voice is as familiar as it had always been, “I’m glad, (y/n).”

You sniffle because even if you only exchanged the minimal words, you know the both of you understood everything lingering in the unspoken.

“Are you happy though?” you ask and knock your shoulder against his.

“I am, for you, I always am happy.” He says and laughs when you smack his shoulder a little harder this time in retort. “I meant you, dumbass. Are you happy?”

He laughs, sniffling and turning away from you.

“I love you.” He says, and before you could voice out your confusion he turns to you with a teasing glint in his eyes, “I began to tell myself that every day.”

You roll your eyes remembering your words from the balcony that one night. “Oh god, don’t just quote me.”

“I mean it!” he says and laughs along with you.

You think the two of you must look a little silly, crying at seven in the morning and laughing over your heartaches you endured some years ago, but your relationship with Tetsurou ran deeper than the norm, so you guess you don’t mind.

“Tetsu, I really want you to be happy.” You finally say, and you hope the softness in your tone reaches him.

Tetsurou looks at you in the way that’s sincere because he sighs into the air with a smile and wraps a hand around your shoulder—pulling you in for a half hug. You set your mug down to the side and wrap your own arms around his frame, burying your face in his chest.

He feels warm and you don’t come to mind his chin resting on top of your head.

“Happiness is a work in progress, I’ll get there in time. But I’m always facing to walk in that direction.”

“Promise?” you ask, and he pulls from you to look you straight in the eye.

Though before he opened his mouth to reply, the finality in his eyes quelled your worries.

He didn’t need to say promise because you were more than sure he was going to get there.

-

Miya Atsumu was someone who came into your life in a whirlwind of all the things you considered to be the most beautiful.

He’s a human being; far from perfection just as you were, but then again, the word perfection had always been subjective. Not a day passed by where you didn’t tell him thank you for always being patient. He dealt with his demons just as you had but like the certainty of those very demons coming and going in your life, the grip in his hand holding yours was just as steadfast and un moving.

Atsumu would be the one to tell you to bite your hand and push through it when you had no other option but walk through hell itself, but also in contrast, he would be the one to lay with you in the silence and rub circles on your back telling you to cry out whatever was hurting you.

He’d crack a couple jokes in between your sobs, and kiss your eyelids despite you telling him no and that your tears will taste gross.

You, on the other hand was always the one he came home to and your arms being opened was a constant whether he celebrated a victory or a loss.

Whether he’d cry because his service ace was the winning point, or cry because he felt second best, time and time again Atsumu would tell you his thank you for the presence through it all.

And when he tells you an I love you every day with the sun rising and setting as the witness, you know he means it just as he knows the sincerity he’s always found the comfort in with yours.

“Are you happy?” he asked you on your third year together and you could almost laugh at the parallels you’re begging to see with the conversation you had with Tetsurou some time ago.

“Really happy.” You reply and lace your fingers through his.

“With me?” he asks and smiles when you swing your joined hands back and forth. “With us.” You reply and lean forward to kiss his cheek.

Atsumu laughs and tugs you to walk with him ankle deep in the water. “This kinda feels familiar,” he comments and you laugh because it does. You mean it’s familiar because déjà vu is nudging at you and also because the both of you had found yourselves in a quiet stretch of beach along the coasts of Okinawa.

It wasn’t Siargao in the Philippines this time, and you could understand the distant chatter of Japanese in the background opposed to the dialect spoken in the Philippines those years ago, but it was the light of the setting sun peaking in Atsumu’s eyes that had you grinning ear to ear because this was your favorite part of the day.

When the both of you are a little over ankle deep in the water Atsumu releases your hand and points to the horizon on the western side of the world.

You turn and smile because he’s pointing to the sunset. Closing your eyes you, breathe in and breathe out—then smile because it wasn’t shaky. Briefly, you think of Tetsurou and what he could be doing this time in Tokyo—and smile again because he’s probably over at Kenma’s for movie night yelling into a TV and chucking popcorn in the air. You think about the new dating app he downloaded on his phone that he showed you the other day and chuckle to yourself in a way that had you feeling giddy. He was putting himself back out there and for that, you were always happy for him.

And so when you open your eyes and look at the western horizon, you shift your body to turn to Atsumu; you prefer looking at the setting sun’s painting from his eyes, anyway.

But you stop in your tracks because he’s grinning at you and then biting his lip in nervousness. You laugh, automatically choked up because he’s down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

“(Y/n),” he begins, but you don’t let him finish because as you’re staring into his eyes and see the sparks of orange and red reflected you’re suddenly throwing your arms on his shoulder and kneeling down with him.

“W-wait!” he protests, but laughs along with you, “—for god’s sake let me propose properly.”

You continue to laugh, even as you feel streams of tears rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from him you grab his face in between your hands and wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, but you know it’s not much of a question because he doesn’t wait for you to answer since he’s kissing the palm of your hand and sliding the ring on your finger before you open your mouth to speak.

“I had a whole speech prepared,” Atsumu whines, sniffling when you laugh at him and hold his face in between your hands again.

You could cry because it truly does feel like déjà vu, because the sunset reflected in his eyes look just like that very sunset you could still remember on that day you fell in love with him all those years ago.

The water in Okinawa is not as warm as the water in the Philippines, and the water soaking your dress is a little uncomfortable like the sand digging in your knees, but with Atsumu being in front of you crying along to the comments you’re sharing back and forth with him—you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

“You know if I closed my eyes and this playlist wasn’t shitty, I could just pretend this our wedding.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a comment and let out a laugh instead. “Atsumu was in charge of the playlist. I told him to make the vibe uniform but he probably ignored everything after Atsumu make the playlist.”

Tetsurou snickers and squeezes your hand in his, while the other that’s resting on the back of your waist pulls you along to the sway of the music. You smile and lightly knock his chest with your hand that’s resting on his chest.

“Don’t tell him I’m trashing your wedding music.”

“He’ll laugh along with you,” you reply softly.

“Oi, Tetsurou!” Atsumu calls from the background; the two of you turn to face him, you greeting him with a slight wave and a wink while Tetsurou opts to shoot him a thumbs up and a smile.

“Stop tryin’ to steal my wife.”

Tetsurou laughs at your husband’s halfhearted warning, “She’s not really my type!”

“Damn straight.” Atsumu laughs, then turns towards the conversation he was having with Osamu.

“Why did it feel like my husband is trying to devalue me?” You snort and Tetsurou laughs because he knows you’re only joking.

“He trusts you and knows he can’t get rid of me that’s why.”

“Fair point,” you smile, agreeing.

“Hey Tetsu,” you say slowly, looking at him. He hums in response and looks at you with a smile mirroring your own.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t ask you what you mean by the thank you and you smile in appreciation because you know the message was delivered without a hitch. So the two of you continue to dance in circles, with Tetsurou snorting every time the music in Atsumu’s playlist got progressively more “country” as he dubbed it.

“We should write a book about this someday.” You quip and he nods, “Hell yeah, as long as I’m written as a super buff guy.”

Thank you for being my first love.

“I mean sure,” you reply, “but when Atsumu comes into the story he’s obviously more buff. It’s just canon like that.” Tetsurou huffs, turning his head away in exaggeration.

Thank you for breaking my heart but still leaving breakfast for me that morning.

“My character needs to have some really cool quotes though,” Tetsurou negotiates and you laugh out a sure, what do you got, before he replies, “If your goals don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.” You throw your head back and laugh. “That doesn’t even make sense, but sure, we can work that in.”

Thank you for being my best friend above everything that’s happened. Thank you for accepting Atsumu.

“Wait I have another quote,” he offers and you nod for him to continue. Tetsurou smiles at you, his eyes dazzling under the night sky’s stars and the venue’s fairy lights. “He loved her enough to let her go.”

You fall silent and the urge to suddenly cry hits you. Tetsurou smiles and spins you around until you’re face to face with Atsumu, who’s staring at you with a knowing and gentle smile from across the room.

You turn to face him and the tears well up even more at the feeling of déjà vu gnawing at your chest. It doesn’t hurt in a bad way because you know the both of you are heading in the right direction this time. Tetsurou smiles and tells you, “Love you, dumbass.” before you feel Atsumu’s hand take yours.

“I’m proud of the both of you.” Atsumu whispers, kissing the corner of your temple.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the protective husband?” you laugh.

“I know he’s a special person in your life, and I’m thankful for him everyday too because him being dumb enough not to love you led to us.” Atsumu replies, laughing along with you.

“Tsumu!”

“Kiddin.”

Resting your cheek on Atsumu’s shoulder, the two of you continue to move in slower circles. You meet Tetsurou’s gaze from your spot in the room and smile when he flashes you a thumbs up.

Thank you, Tetsurou thinks when he feels déjà vu nudging his heart. The dull of his heart thrumming doesn’t ache this time so he smiles towards you again and thinks of the baby’s breath tattoo he got the night inked on the left side of his chest.

When you turn and Atsumu meets his gaze, he gives the blonde a solid nod and another thumbs up.

Thank you for letting me love and let you go, (y/n).

 -