#sorry this isn't polished i just Could Not top this energy

[cupid-styles]

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

[mauesartetc]

Redrawing Shadiversity's AI Piece

For context, check out this post here. This is, uh... It's a doozy.

Let's start with the main character of the image. The girl's pose looks very awkward and unrealistic for what she's doing. Her feet are dragging in two different directions that don't indicate the direction she's jumping in, and it looks like her top half is getting blown back in a wind tunnel. According to one of the reblogs on the post that introduced me to this thing, the pose wasn't the generator's doing, but the artist's. "He drew the girl and photoshopped in a picture of a lizard and a picture of a church and had the image generator "refine" it."

I sincerely doubt he used any kind of photo reference for this drawing, as it'd be uncomfortable for anyone's spine to curve backward like that while they're leaping forward and swinging a heavy sword. That just looks painful.

Let's explore some ways we could make the pose look more believable.

I think I'll go with a pose that's close to the original but makes a bit more sense.

It obviously doesn't have the same level of... "polish" the AI version does (we'll get to that in a minute), but the tilt of the spine looks much more natural for the direction she's leaping in and the way she's holding the sword.

Now that we have that out of the way, let's analyze more of the image as a whole.

AI art handles detail in a way that looks good to the untrained eye, but falls apart in the eyes of experienced artists. These clothing folds, for example. There's no logic to the way they're shaped, and the shirt is randomly tight around the chest when it's loose everywhere else. Then there are the scales brought into sharp focus despite the rest of the dragon being blurred, the blood drips that look like stalactites, and so on and so forth. I'm sure there are things I missed, as well. If y'all find them, let me know in the comments!

Something to note about the sketches I made before the finished drawing: They kinda suck. And that's the point. The early stages of a drawing aren't meant to look pristine with perfect anatomy (not to say the finished product is anywhere near perfect, but still). What they are meant to have is energy. Purpose. Life. But AI bros are so afraid to make any "bad" drawings that they don't draw at all (or in cases like Shad's, they only draw the bare minimum).

I didn't make this post to dunk on AI prompters, but to encourage them to put in the necessary work that will improve their skills. And no, I'm sorry, typing words into a box won't make anyone a better artist. It might make them better at describing what they want when they commission an artist, but by and large it's like lifting a feather when you want to gain muscle instead of, y'know, lifting actual weights.

Obviously machine learning isn't going anywhere and it'd be nice to use as a tool to make different steps of the art process more efficient. It's good for silly memes, I guess. But we shouldn't treat the images it spits out as masterpieces, and, importantly, businesses shouldn't use it to replace real people.

Anyway, it's pretty easy to go to the store with five bucks and come back with a decent sketchpad and pens/pencils. Not to mention art programs like Krita and Blender are FREE, and there are plenty of tutorials on Youtube. Just sayin'.

Get drawing.

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi,

I'm asking you this 'cause you are one of my fav writers on this app and I'm too embarrassed to come off anon.

I used to be confident in my writing a year ago. The words used to flow into my head freely as I write and not even once I felt like it was a chore to me. I didn't doubt or fuss over stuff I write until one day I got criticized very badly. I received a huge feedback on how much my writing sucked (literally a page).

Now, every time I sit to write stuff i love, i fall into the pit hole of self doubts and start to loathe the style of my writing.

I know it sounds pathetic that one bad criticism has changed my mindset. And, writing stuff is my only outlet....

Today, I run a small blog on this app and so far the response for the stuff i write is so positive yet I can't shake away this insecurity and it is starting to take a toll on me.

How do I overcome this? I would appreciate any tips on getting better at writing and finding a unique writing style. Please ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfy tho. Again, I'm so sorry if I troubled you.

hello anon!!

aa… i'm really sorry to hear that this happened to you, unsolicited criticism can already be discouraging, but that sounds infinitely worse ?? i don't think you sound pathetic, it's pretty natural for people to remember negative experiences over positive ones. it just sticks in the brain longer. i'm a pretty sensitive person myself so i can see where you're coming from. i think one of the things that's helped me a lot is basically going 'so what lol' whenever i'm confronted with stuff like that. we're writing self-indulgent stories for fun (and free!), it doesn't need to be this generation's war and peace. it's okay for your work to be 'messy'. writing is like any other hobby, what matters more is enjoying the creating process rather than arriving at a super polished piece that's-100%-without-flaw-god-tier-ready-to-be-accepted-in-the-canon-of-the-bible level stuff. there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting what you work on to be good, i absolutely strive for that myself, but when it feels more like a chore and i'm agonizing over it, i take a step back.

i didn't feel right giving you a watchmojo top ten tips to improve your writing reply in response to this. i was too busy going >:( at the thought of an absolute troglodyte thinking their silly one page of feedback that no one asked for was warranted. like. the world is on fire. we're seeing a surge in cash grabs that have absolutely zero soul behind them. creativity is constantly shoved to the side for a quick buck (hbo max flipping off their animators, ZA/UM booting the minds behind disco elysium who spent literal decades working on the game, the list could go on forever). create what you want and what you love, if someone tries to come @ you with rude feedback, that's cringe. 'you forgot to collect the homework' type energy. zero bitches. lame. zzzzzz.

all this to say . i want to encourage you to not feel burdened that you need to improve your writing PRONTO, because if that's hovering over you, it'll sap away your joy while writing. the thought alone makes me sad. there is no person on the planet who has experienced the exact set of circumstances that you have, meaning you have something to contribute that's entirely unique to you. you can describe things in ways people could never think to because they aren't you, you can infuse your distinct personality into your work, create something from nothing. you already have your own unique writing style; everyone does.

i'm sorry if this isn't coherent or useful, i just ended up getting heated HJTKEMG please keep writing anon!!! but remember that it's okay to take breaks when the negatives outweighs the positives during the writing experience. in fact, it's perfectly normal across the board for any hobby. i'm wishing you the best of luck.

[colonyshift-official]

how did you and Wrevle meet, Xianan? :0c

XC: "... it kind of just happened. she rummagggggged througggh my gggarbaggge one niggght and we've been arggguinggg ever since."

XC: "now she has a key and sometimes takes my gggood food."

XC: "..."

XC: "I don't begggrudge her it. she definitely needs it."

[ajokeformur-ray]

Due to the fact that I got a little lazy with my studying last week (my time management slipped!!!) while I was also attending health appointments and helping out around the house a bit more, I am now almost two weeks behind on my university work.

It's fixable now (working on it as you read this!) but I'm kicking myself up the ass with a lecture from Father (which is How I Know It's Serious) to motivate me to stay up all night tonight. Deliberately woke up at 1pm today so I wouldn't be tired by my normal bedtime to help this happen; I'm gonna be locked in a sleep-study-sleep cycle for at least a week to fix this!🥺💙

Source

"You're what?" Father's sharp tone cuts through me like ice and I flinch, suddenly finding the carpet most interesting. Hot shame floods through me and I long to sink into the floor and never resurface.

"I'm... nearly two weeks behind on my university work."

Father inhales sharply, turning away from me and looking out of the window. Neither of us are looking at each other and it makes me feel sick. When Father turns away, it means that he's controlling his temper. It means I've disappointed him.

"How did this happen?" He turns back to me, fire in his eyes. He's not that angry, not yet. He's willing to give me a chance to explain myself and depending on what I say, he'll either soften or get more angry.

I'm on thin fucking ice and we both know it.

"I don't know!" I bring my hands up to my face, pressing my fingers against my eyes. "It just did! I had to have that dentist appointment and afterwards I was just so tired because I'd barely slept the night before because I was so scared, and then the day after I had to have that blood test for my illness, and then you know I went out into town with you to help you with your errands, and then when I got home I helped Mama with the chores and then I was too tired to study, and then it just - " I shrug, "I'm sorry, Father. I don't know how it happened. It just did."

Father inhales sharply and I flinch, not looking at him. I pick at the skin around my nails, wanting more than anything to disappear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't - " Tears flood my eyes and I've never felt smaller than I do in this moment. How could the daughter of Doctor Jekyll make such a stupid mistake? I chastise myself in my mind far more than my Father ever could, and I have no doubt that this is why he softens; we both know that any lecture he could give me is nothing compared to the one I'm giving myself every waking moment as I fight to catch up.

"Hush, Erika." Two well polished black boots step into my line of sight and I dare to look up, catching Father's softening gaze. "Things like this will happen sometimes. It's difficult to keep on top of one's work when there are other duties and responsibilities. I want to - " Father clears his throat, "May I see what you're up against? I may be able to help you somewhat while you catch up." There is a slight warning in this last sentence - I will catch up. Father isn't motivating me here, he's telling me, and I know that these are the consequences of my actions, well-intentioned or not.

I show Father my materials. "This is last week's work and this is this week's work." A pause as Father's mind races to understand why I'm so terrified and I shamefully point to not even a day into last week's work. "I'm here."

"How on earth did you let it slip this far?" He sounds truly incredulous, and I know why. I love studying; the process fills me with joy, note-taking brings me a familiar peace, and I adore being surrounded by papers and books. He can't understand how this happened, and to be honest, neither can I.

"I told you," I shrugged, "I didn't mean for it to happen but it did. Do you think I can fix it?"

Father chuckles darkly, the sound humourless. It sounds like Papa, and I shiver. "You and I both know you don't have a choice, Erika. You must fix it, or this will continue and you won't be able to catch up."

Those tears spill down my cheeks, and Father gives me a kind look. He never can say no to me, no matter how much he tries.

"It can be accomplished, Erika. I have seen you battle things you didn't think you would survive, but you did, and this occasion is no different. It won't be easy for you over the next few days," His dark eyes flash in warning, "But it can be done."

"I'm sorry, I - "

Father holds his hand up to interrupt me. "Apologies won't get the work done, Erika. You must start now. Sit down." The lecturing tone is back and I shamefully do as my Father says. I sit in my favourite seat and Father brings my materials across. He opens everything up, hands me a pen. "I am going to bring up some of my own work, some food and some coffee for you, as well as some port for me. You and I are going to work together today, and I will be keeping an eye on you. I will check your progress every hour on the hour. Am I understood?"

I dare to meet Father's eyes and I see a challenge in them. He's daring me to tell him that I can't, to tell him it's too much, to tell him anything which goes against the discipline he's imposing on me, knowing that I can't quite bring it onto myself. I don't have a choice but to work hard and maybe even to stay up all night just to accomplish this, and we both know it. Father has always held me accountable for my responsibilities, and this occasion is no different. It's how he shows his love and his support, but unlike Mama, Father isn't afraid to be harsh when the time calls for it, such as this one.

Thoughts of giving up occur to me. Thoughts of stopping, of saying no, come to me. But I wasn't raised that way. I wasn't. So I tighten my grip on my pen, maintain eye contact with my Father and say, "Perfectly." A pause, my bravado slips, and then, "I am sorry, Father, I didn't mean for this to - "

"I know," He smiles wryly, "I understand more than most how quickly one's work can slip out of one's grasp. Focus your energy on your work, Erika, and make this right." His hand squeezes my shoulder in comfort, encouragement, and to tell me that the lecture is over. I can relax now, but not too much... I have two weeks of work to do in one and I'm really up against it now. It's my own doing and I know that, but Father will help me to make it right, page by page by page.

I am Doctor Jekyll's daughter and I can do this.

I don't have a choice.

[zims-left-shoe]

Can you do a Dib x Reader that’s into tarot cards and horoscopes? Also can make this AU a college AU? I know you said you write the characters up to high school but I was just wondering if you would. It’s fine you do them in high school.

Yeah! Just a warning, I’m not super experienced with tarot cards and everything, so apologies if a lot of it is inaccurate. I hope it’s still okay!!

The air was warm, and the sweet scents of pastries mingled with the sharp smell of coffee. The surrounding chatter of voices and calm music served as decent white noise. You lifted your drink to your lips, eyes drifting to the window next to you. Shades of grey painted the sky, muted tones growing ever darker as time ticked by. Outside, the air had a nasty nip to it, and you were not looking forward to stepping outside again. Plus, you were enjoying yourself in the moment. Your gaze was drawn back to the man across from you, his large glasses fogging slightly from the heat of his own drink. 

You were more than delighted that he had asked you to come study with him at the coffee shop. Sure, you had wished he had the courage to bite the bullet and ask you on an actual date, but on a chilly winter afternoon a relaxing coffee hangout and study session was still enjoyable. Admittedly, you had developed feelings for the reserved cryptid fanatic who sat next to you in your cell biology class. That being said, you were ecstatic when he had quietly asked that morning if you would like to grab a coffee and study with him. Although you wished for a bit more, the current situation was completely fine by you.

"Have you been doing anything interesting lately?" Both of you had finished your work quite some time ago, spending the rest of the time talking to each other, a silence only settling for a brief minute or two before you continued the conversation. Sure, it was small talk, but the kind of talk that occurs between friends when they can sense their time together is drawing to a close, and that the hangout will end soon. The kind of talk when you aren't ready to leave each other's company, so you attempt to draw out the conversation with simple things.

"Oh, you know, only what every normal college kid does. Party hard, baby." The straight face he was attempting to hold fell apart almost immediately as he broke into a chuckle. "Nah. Just the usual, studying the paranormal. Aliens, ghosts, all that stuff." A smile spread on your face. Of course he was. You found his unique obsession with spooks and cryptids cute, and you were glad he had a passion in life. Even if that passion was restricted while he was away at school, he would still find ways to express himself. He was always scribbling supernatural doodles in the margins of his notes, monitoring the local cryptid stories constantly. "Sorry. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm just not that interesting."

"Please. Liking the paranormal is much more interesting than being a party animal whose only hobby is getting wasted." You paused, setting your cup down on the table. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. I'm only attrac-I mean, drawn, to people who are intriguing."

Nice save, stupid... You thought to yourself. At this point, you were unsure if you should just tell him how you felt. You were reasonably confident that he felt the same way, but he was just too damn nervous to ruin your friendship. 

"Okay then, any secrets, or maybe embarrassing stories? Everyone has some. If you tell me one of yours, I'll tell you a story of mine." You bumped your bag that was resting underneath the table with your foot as you stared out at him, trying to pressure him into telling you something good. He always had the best stories. Especially when they were about aliens.

"My whole life is one embarrassing story after the other." He set his cup down as well, finding your eyes once more. "But, I guess one time I had my DNA fused with baloney." You laughed, believing him to be joking. You believed him a majority of the time, but that one was just so outlandish it couldn't possibly be true. "I'm not lying! Remember my stupid alien classmate? Well, he decided to get me back for throwing lunch meat in his face by making me sit on a tack that fused baloney DNA with my own." He was completely serious, so that left only two options: he was either completely insane or it was the truth. For the time you've known and befriended him, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so what the hell. Why not believe him?

"I'm honestly not sure which part to ask for a follow up on, the alien classmate having baloney genetic makeup on the ready or being fused with sandwich meat." Brushing stray strands of hair from your face, you sighed, knowing that your story was in no way going to top that. "Mine isn't that exciting or embarrassing, but in high school, I charged for tarot readings in the bathrooms as a way to make some money. Well, I did until a teacher reported me for 'Satan worshipping'. Which, for starters is complete bullshit, but she was just jealous I made more money a week than she did." You smirked, remembering the look on her face when she confiscated your receipt book that you used to keep track of your profits. 

"Wait, you used to read tarot cards?" Dib offered you his full attention, eyes filled with wonder. "I've always thought it was cool, but I just never really had gotten into it. Too busy saving the Earth from aliens and all that."

"I still do. You have your cryptids and space creatures, I have my tarot cards and horoscopes." To your amazement, Dib appeared to be enchanted by the subject. Then again, you supposed it was more or less something you could see him getting into.

"How did I not know that about you?" You shrugged in response to his words. It had just never came up in conversation. "Maybe we could hang out again soon and you could walk me through it?" He looked to be a bit apprehensive, almost as if you had already rejected the idea in his mind. You didn't even have to consider the idea. Not only did you harbor feelings for him, you would jump at the chance to show off your skills and interests.

"I would love to. My roommate has to work Friday night, maybe you could come to my dorm then?" A dorky grin spread across his face as he reached for his cup to drink the remaining coffee.

"It's a date, then." His face flushed as he realized his wording. "Not like that! As friends! You know what I mean." His fingers drummed on the tabletop, and you were sure he was sweating.

"I mean, unless...?" You made an overexaggerated thinking face, and after a moment, you both busted up laughing. However, you were of course only half joking.

(more under the cut)

-

Pushing open the door, you stepped into the room you had made your own. Kicking aside some shoes your roommate had left piled by the door, you let the man behind you inside.

"Sorry for the mess, I asked my roommate to clean up. They didn't."

"It's fine. You should see my dorm, it's definitely worse." Chuckling, you led him to your side of the room, which was a stark contrast from the other. Everything, for the most part anyway, was organized within bins, your desk nice and tidy despite having many trinkets and various things resting on the desktop. You had made a nice personal space under your bed, it was where you would often sit when you got tired of your desk or bed. Gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor under your bed, you went over to your desk, shuffling through one of your drawers until you felt your fingers close around your tarot deck.

"You have any questions before we start?" You hummed as you closed the drawer.

Dib's eyes were intently focused on you as he sat cross-legged underneath your bed. Finally, he spoke, albeit tentatively. "Just one, but it's kind of stupid."

"There are no stupid questions."

"Okay, in that case...does reading tarot cards like, open up your third eye and let you see ghosts and stuff?" Staring into his face revealed that he wasn't kidding. He was legitimately asking if you could see ghosts when you learned to read tarot cards.

"I changed my mind. There are stupid questions." Laughter slipped out as you sunk down the the floor across from him, tipping the box in your hands until the cards slid out. "Of course it does."

"Woah, really?" His cinnamon eyes sparkled with excitement, and yet again, a flurry of giggles escaped you.

"No, of course not. It doesn't make you see ghosts. It develops greater intuition and understanding." Dib let out a long breath, gaze falling to the floor as he picked at the chipping black polish on his nails, regretting he ever asked that question.

"Can we just forget I ever said that? Please?" You nodded as you separated the deck in your hands, shuffling them together. You did this many times over, the sharp sounds of cards coming together cutting through the stillness that had settled over the room. Dib stared at the cards in your hand, watching as you shuffled them with skill. He had lost track of how many times you had done so by the time you had stacked them together for the final time.

"So, is there anything specific you want to learn? I can't exactly teach you to read, since it takes a lot of practice and a deck you're comfortable with." As you looked to him expectantly, he appeared to be at a total loss for what to even ask for. "I could give you a simple reading just for fun." 

"Sure! But, uh, how do they work?" A smile crept onto your face. You felt a warm glow of happiness at being able to share your interests with someone who was genuinely interested in learning about them.

"Well, if I were to do it by myself, I would shuffle them as I did now. It helps bring your energy to the cards, and therefore you will be more drawn to certain ones. Plus, you can better interpret them." You passed the deck to Dib. "If you can shuffle, shuffle them. Do it several times."

"Okay...what exactly are you reading for?" He began shuffling, although not as cleanly as you. A few times the cards had slipped from his grip, flying out in all directions. Every time that would happen, he gathered the cards and began to shuffle again as he listened to you.

"Well, we're just going to do a simple spread of three, but it can be for almost anything. Your past, present, and future, advice for obstacles, relationships, all of that stuff." 

"Relationships?" Dib stacked the cards for a final time, handing them back to you. You took them, spreading them out in front of you, face down. 

"Yeah, there's all different types of readings for relationships. Is that the simple spread you want?" He thought for a moment, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he looked to you. 

"I think so. You said there's different types of relationship readings, so just make an executive decision for me."

"That's not how this works." Your sigh was broken by a chuckle. "But fine. I'll do a spread where a card represents you, the other person, and the relationship." You found yourself wishing for a good outcome, thinking that he was most likely asking about the relationship he could possibly have with you, or at least that's what you were hoping for. "Pick three cards that you're drawn to and line them up across from you."

"Alright..." He stared at the arc of cards that was laid out in the space between you, deliberating, eyes carefully calculating. He brushed a finger across the glossy backs of the cards, finally deciding on two close to the middle, and one on the leftmost edge. He laid them out as you had asked, looking back to you expectantly. "Now what?"

"Now I give you your reading. I'll try my best to interpret the cards in the context of your life, but don't hold it against me if I'm not one hundred percent accurate." You flipped over the spread, the three cards facing up.

"Did I do good...?"

"It's not about making the right choices, it's about being drawn to the cards." You chided, looking at his spread. The cards that had been turned over were an upright Nine of Wands, a reversed Hanged Man, and an upright World. "Let's start with you." You pushed the card a little closer to him. It depicted a bandaged man leaning heavily on a wooden wand, surrounded by the other eight. "This is the Nine of Wands."

"Is it bad?" He looked curious, but there were concerned undertones in his expression.

"No, not necessarily. As a card, it represents courage, determination, and resilience. In the context of your part in the relationship, there may be or have been setbacks for you personally, but you have the strength to overcome those things. You might get hurt, or things may be tough and uncertain for you right now, but you will persist and get through it." A light blush dusted his cheeks as he nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds about right...does getting in your own way count as a setback?" Dib chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Sure. If I had to offer advice...no risk, no reward, right?" You both locked eyes for a moment, a hush falling over the room yet again. Again, this same, infuriating dance. You both were aware of how you felt. Yet neither would make a move. 

"I suppose..." Dib actually seemed to be taking all of this into deep consideration. You couldn't help the hope that you felt rising in your chest.

"Alright, next...the other individual. This is the Hanged Man, but it's reversed." Again, you pushed the card forward. It depicted a man who was supposed to be hanging by the ankle from a tree, but from the direction it was turned, it appeared he was more standing upright.

"Are reversed cards bad?"

"They can be. The reversed Hanged Man for example generally means that the person is ready to go but is being held back. In context of the other person in your case, maybe they're ready to jump into a relationship but you might be holding them back by not taking a chance." Okay, so maybe that wasn't really a reading. You may have been guilty of inserting your own personal feelings into the reading, since you assumed the relationship in question was between yourself and Dib. You recognized the hint of irritation that was edging your words, so you drew in a deep breath, continuing on in a softer tone. "You know, like you said. You said your setback could be getting in your own way. You might be overthinking everything, which is restricting the other person from taking the next step."

"You think so?" Again, that damned knowing tone. When you looked into his eyes, you knew that he was aware of how you felt. And yet he still stopped himself every time from taking that leap. Was he waiting for you to make the first move? You hoped not. Sure, it may have been hypocritical, but you wanted no part in asking for a more romantic end to your friendship.

Clearing your throat, you decided to move to the last card of the spread. "The relationship itself. This card is the World." You held it up this time to show him, wishing to hold onto it. The card illustrated a naked woman in the middle of a wreath, surrounded by various animal heads. "Generally, it represents being in the right place, pausing before the next stage." Admittedly, that was not the reading you had desired. You didn't want to stay as only friends. "In context of the relationship, it could be interpreted as staying put, and just appreciating where the two of you are. There will be lots of options and pathways ahead and all that." You waved your hand dismissively, unable to fight off the exhaustion that was settling in. "So, anyway, that was your very basic reading." You stacked the cards together again, lazily patting the ground around you for the box.

"Is this stuff, like, certain advice?"

"You mean, do you have to take it? No, I suppose not. It's just suggestions and life advice based on interpretations."

Dib crawled his way over to sit by your side as you put your cards safely back in their box. You quirked an eyebrow, yet said nothing. "Okay, because I'm not too into that last one." Without tearing his eyes away from yours, his fingers brushed your own. He kept eyeing your face to confirm that what he was doing was alright. Always cautious, that one. 

"I probably shouldn't give my input, since it's your life advice, but me either." A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as his fingers finally laced themselves with yours, his free hand drifting up to your face. His touch was light, so much so that you weren't even sure if it was there. In that moment, Dib was a walking contradiction, unsure of himself yet completely secure at the same time.

"But if you're reading the cards, aren't I asking for your input?" Slowly he leaned his face closer to yours, hand still resting on your cheek. Fitting, wasn't it? Everything the both of you had ever done was drug out to the maximum. Whether it was that you both enjoyed the frustration or you wanted to extend every moment you had together, you would never know. Nor did it matter. Especially not then. 

"I suppose you are." You reached out a hand to run it through his hair, intertwining your fingers with the dark strands. "You're sure, then?" Each word that was spoken became progressively fainter. The entire time you spoke, his lips were barely a breath away from your own.

As if your words were the cue he needed to commit, he murmured a quick, "I think so." before finally closing the distance and pressing his lips softly against yours. He didn't need to speak for you to know that was all he had been dreaming of doing for a long while. It was obvious in the magical way he was moving his lips in time with your own, in the way delighted hums and mumbles would rise from his throat. In your opinion, there was something to be said about mouth-to-mouth communication. This was possibly the happiest you had ever seen him, you didn't need to be a master of intuition to interpret that. You felt him smile into the kiss, and you couldn't resist smiling along with him. 

Dib finally pulled away after what felt like both an eternity and hardly any time at all. "You said it yourself. No risk, no reward." His grin was wide, and his eyes shone with joy behind his large glasses. 

"Correct." Your hand fell from his hair to his coat, fingers playing with the fabric of the collar. "I usually charge for tarot readings, but for you, another kiss and consider your tab paid."

"Sounds fair enough to me." Leaning in once more, Dib planted yet another kiss on your lips. It was much quicker than the previous one, but after pulling back he proceeded to pepper several little kisses all over your face. Each was very light and brief, leaving your skin feeling tingly. His lips found your own once more, both hands tangling themselves in your hair. A simple tarot reading had somehow morphed into a very physical expression of feelings that had been pushed down for months. You wouldn't complain, though.

"Thank you for your payment." Your words were broke by giggles after you had parted. 

"Of course." Dib's gaze drifted to the box of cards that was sitting off to the side, his smile never wavering. "You know, you should teach me how to read those."

"Only if you take me cryptid hunting."

"Deal." He laughed at the determined smirk on your face, wrapping his arms around you. You let him pull you into a hug, your arms snaking around him as if that was where they were always meant to be. 

"So, can we safely consider ourselves ex-friends now? Because personally, I feel that we're much better off as lovers."

"Like I said before, I trust your input, it's what I asked for." 

"So, lovers it is?"

"Lovers it is." Dib's voice was pleasant as you snickered into his chest, more than pleased with how the day had went. You sensed that he would agree with that notion. 

[rosemarypasta]

➤ pairing : oikawa tooru x female reader (karasuno manager)

➤ chapter warnings : slowburn (?)

➤ summary : You just recently joined the Karasuno boy’s volleyball team as their first year manager. As you grow closer to your teammates, you also unexpectedly grow closer to one of their biggest rivals, Oikawa Tooru

➤ chapter word count: 2762

-ˏˋ chapter two ˊˎ-

SATURDAY

8:00 AM

You woke up the next day super early to get ready for the practice match. Eight hours ago before collapsing due to an energy shortage, you made sure to set up an alarm for eight AM so you could have a full hour to get ready before going to the morning practice. You showered, brushed your teeth and ate some breakfast first thing in the morning. As soon as you finished your last bite of toast, you said goodbye to your parents and set off to school with thirty minutes to spare. You knew you could've used the remaining thirty minutes to chill for a second or do your homework that you didn't get to do yesterday but you figured that you'd start to freak out and question why you were doing all this in the first place if you didn't go immediately.

Physically, you felt tired and worn out from dodging stray volleyballs yesterday but you were oddly pumped and energized to go to practice. As you began to question your sudden surge of enthusiasm, your brain quickly reminded you of a reason why.

Oikawa Toru was a reason why.

You felt like a thirteen year old having a crush on the popular boy all over again. You've only seen him once and you find it ridiculous how much he has already been occupying your mind. He didn't even acknowledge you last night. He couldn't at least pretend to be interested in who you were and ask for your name. "Whatever." You mumbled to yourself as you tried to push the image of the Seijoh student away. But there is nothing wrong with finding a stranger hot anyway.

As you entered school grounds and walked towards the gym, you could already hear the squeaking sounds the volleyball shoes made. You looked over to see the time on your cell phone and confirmed with yourself that you were fifteen minutes early. So how are there already somebody practicing? You peaked through the open door and caught a glimpse of the red head sprinting to the opposite side of the court in a blink of an eye. HInata suddenly jumps vertically up but falls shortly, a volleyball joining beside him a second later.

"You jumped too fast!" A familiar voice yelled. There was somebody else in there this early too aside from Hinata. "Well maybe you just tossed too slow." Hinata pouted as he crossed his arms and legs like a toddler throwing a tantrum on the floor.

You giggled to yourself as you found the sight of a high schooler to be ridiculous.

"Ah! Y/N, good morning!" The redhead greeted you as he noticed you creeping from the door. "Hey." Kageyama greeted you briefly before picking up another ball from the cart you and Shimizu organized after yesterday's practice. Judging from the amount of balls already scattered throughout the gym floor, you could tell they have started way earlier than you previously thought.

The rest of the team quickly started to pile in the gym one by one. BY the time coach Ukai showed up, the whole team had already started their stretches. They seemed more fired up than yesterday.

You weren't the type to keep up with sports but you do know that your prefecture was quite well known for some of their volleyball players. You've heard of powerhouse schools like Shiratorizawa and Aoba Johsai but you've never heard of Karasuno's outstanding volleyball team. So if this is the performance and morale of a team full of nobodies, you wonder how insane the training is in the powerhouse schools.

The practice went by smoothly, no yelling or fights and most importantly, no injuries. They took frequent breaks to drink and rest in between different types of training. Despite it being a Saturday morning, you didn't feel worn out like you did during yesterday's practice. In reality, it was pretty entertaining watching them play a sport they are all so passionate about. Well, most of them seemed passionate. Tsukishima, the first year, seemed to be pretty good but anyone could tell that he was doing the bare minimum compared to Nishinoya and Hinata who were pretty much begging the coach to keep playing during breaks.

And before you knew it, twelve o'clock came around and the black and orange uniformed boys met their rivals for the day. Around the same amount of players in white and turquoise walked in the gym but as much as you scanned the crowd, you didn't find the familiar face you hoped to see. You sank into the bench you were sitting on and sighed. Was he not a regular? Then why was he so confident in beating Kageyama when he isn't on the team to begin with?

You contemplated whether you should ask Kageyama about him but you pushed that possibility away as you watched him do his final set of stretches to prepare for the match. You also thought it would be embarrassing if he knew you had an interest towards someone that was so ridiculously rude towards him. Though while debating with yourself, you caught Kageyama looking through the room and looking concerned for a while but shook it off swiftly before serving in the first set of the day. You knew Aoba Johsai has a pretty big volleyball team and they only brought twenty people to Karasuno so maybe Oikawa really wasn't a regular.

Two sets went by and both Karasuno and Aoba Johsai each had a win which means the last set they played would determine the first win of the day. With a blow of a whistle, Asahi was already throwing the ball in the air to serve but got distracted by the sudden entrance of a brunette in a white jacket.

"Sorry for being late everyone, it took me a while to get the ok from the doctor." He graciously announced as he leaned on the door with a white supporter on his right knee. "So you can finally play?" An Aoba Johsai player with spiky dark hair asked Oikawa to which he replied with a sparkly smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"You guys lost the first set to them huh?" He casually spoke with a bright smile on his face that seemed sinister with the context and tone of the words he spoke. "Leave the rest to your captain." He smirked. He pulled the jacket off his back to reveal his white uniform with the number one printed brilliantly across his chest.

As if the whole ordeal was pre-planned, the timid looking boy that made Aoba Johsai lose their set point the last set moved back and joined the rest of the white uniformed team on the bench with a simple hand gesture from the coach. Oikawa swiftly moved to the back of the court. His legs parted and arms wide open, ready to accept the ball his black uniformed opponent was about to serve.

As soon as the ball left Asahi's grasp, Aoba Johsai was quick to react, even quicker than the last two sets they played. Each move the players made on court was filled with confidence and no hesitation was shown, as if a single person like OIkawa multiplied their skills by three just by setting foot on the polished wooden floors riddled with sweat. The brunette captain was quick to react when his name was called. He ran up to the front of the net, tossed the ball towards his teammate and allowed him to spike with all his might.

Watching the whole ordeal was mesmerizing despite being on, what seems like now, the underdog's team. As the ball left the spiker's palm, it zoomed in the air. You held your breath as you saw it in slow motion touch the area beyond the white line.

It was out.

You sighed in relief and sank back into the bench beside coach Ukai and Shimizu. You felt relieved that no one on the Karasuno team touched the ball since it looked like it was strong enough to break an arm. You turned to see them cheer as usual every time they win a point but the celebrations seemed to be duller than usual. They seemed tense, not letting their guard down as they briefly high fived each other.

"It's the grand king's turn to serve now." You overheard Hinata mutter to himself as he wiped sweat droplets from his forehead. The grand king? Who's the grand king?

You turned to the opposite side of the court and saw the pretty brunette spinning the ball on his long and slender finger. The Aoba Johsai captain threw the ball in the air lightly then proceeded to hit it to the point where the side where the ball touched his palm grew flat, parallel to his hand. You thought the last ball they hit was powerful but this time, you were sure that this one was strong enough to put a hole in the middle of the gymnasium.

The whole practice match went on for another hour and a half. The two teams played six sets in total. Two went to Karasuno while the other four went to the fashionably late captain's team. You felt bad that your team lost, despite how much practice they put even before the official practice hours had begun but you assumed that losing four sets in a six set game to a powerhouse school wasn't so bad.

Right?

Though, you thought the fired up ones like Nishinoya and Hinata would be bummed after losing a practice match but they seemed fine. They were mopping the floors as usual and were mingling with some of Aoba Johsai members who were still cooling down before journeying back to their school.

For your part of the clean up, you carried a crate of empty water bottles outside to the back of the gym to fill them with water. Carrying twenty empty bottles and filling them to the brim was no problem, but carrying them full back in was one. You took a deep breath in before focusing all your strength you had onto your fingertips but before you could even attempt to lift them, they seemed to float up on their own.

You realized the pair of hands on top of yours.

You startled yourself and dripped the heavy plastic crate to the ground as you jumped away in shock. "Sorry for scaring you, I just saw you struggled with it and wanted to help." The captain of the opposing team spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah! No, it's fine. Thank you for your concern and help." You frantically replied back. You could feel your cheeks heat up in shame. You stepped away from the crate as he crouched down and picked it up like it was nothing.

"I'm Oikawa Toru, though I suppose Tobio-chan filled you in with that information last night?" He introduced himself as he began to carry the bottles in the gym. Your heart skipped a beat pathetically. He remembered you from last night. You let out a small sigh, disappointed at how easy it was for Oikawa to impress you this much by doing the bare minimum.

Though, despite your conflicting inner thoughts, butterflies unwillingly started to fill your stomach. "So are you Tobio's classmate? You two seemed pretty close yesterday. Was he walking you home?" OIkawa set the crate down carefully on the floor, speaking casually as if you were already acquaintances for a long time. "Yes he did but it was nothing special- Shimizu-senpai told me to have someone walk me home since it was already dark outside." Your face paced answer seemed desperate compared to how chill he was acting. "And we aren't classmates, I'm just in the same year as him." You didn't know why you were so eager to answer each and every question he asked. You knew he was just making small talk but you answered as if they were the final words he would ever say to you.

You could tell he was the popular type. The way he acted and played screamed like the jock pride and joy of Seijoh. His perfectly styled hair, charismatic smile and toner body had the ability to make anyone, whether they liked men or not, drool.

"OIkawa get your ass in the bus, we're leaving." The dark haired boy in the number four uniformed yelled from the opposite side of the room. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now, Y/N-chan." He winked before running off to join his vice-captain who hit his head in response to Oikawa patting his hair once he caught up to his friend. You giggled at the sight of them bickering childishly as two of your seniors slid behind you.

"Don't be fooled by that pretty boy's charms, Y/N." Tanaka warmed, his face contorted in intimidation in an attempt to scare the rival's captain, which went unnoticed as he was already out of the gym, busy talking with his friend. "You two! Cut it out, don't spread rumours about Oikawa." Daichi sighed as he hit the two boys with odd hairstyles on the head. "They aren't rumours if they're true, Daichi-san!" Nishinoya managed to say as he winced in pain, rubbing the top of his head in sync with his buzzcut haired partner. "So what's the deal with Oikawa-san?" You replied in curiosity without thinking further. Tanaka and Nishinoya snickered at your response, satisfied with the reaction they sparked and straightened their posture, before clearing their throats. "Well aside from the fact that he nearly beat up poor Kageyama when he was only in his first year of junior high just because he wanted advice on volleyball, I'd say he's a decent guy." Tanaka informed in a low voice, looking around to make sure Daichi wasn't around to scold him.

Oikawa? Beating up Kageyama? He may look like someone from the popular side but he didn't seem the type to bully someone, let alone an underclassmen who was two year younger than him. You wanted to ask more from the two troublemakers but given the look on your face and how the three of you were bundled up like a group of moms gossiping about their neighbour's scandals, Daichi walked up to the second years with a sinister grin on his face but they were two steps ahead and dispersed on their own, pretending to be busy with cleaning up to avoid their captain.

After another hour of running practice outside, Daichi and Sugawara treated the whole team to some popsicles to cheer them up from the loss of the practice match and the team was shortly dismissed. You and Kageyama started to walk home together unintentionally and made small talk throughout the journey. You knew he was a nice person but you did pick up that he more or less lacked some social and communication skills. As the two of you talked about normal stuff, his answers sounded awkward and short but you were quick to realize that that was not the case when it comes to talking about volleyball so you switched the topic of the conversation to the practice match. You let him ramble on about his serves, Hinata's failed attempts at a block, and other various things you barely even noticed in the match. It was a nice way to familiarize with volleyball terms so you didn't mind. Besides,, he seemed pumped to talk about volleyball despite having just played it a while ago.

You were tempted to bring up oIkawa but you decided not to as you began to enter your neighbourhood. Although what Tanaka and Nishinoya said explained why Oikawa behaved superior and confident towards Kageyama the other day, it seemed more like harmless banter rather than petty bullying. Besides, a full three years have gone by since the supposed bullying so you were sure he has changed.

Right?

4:00 PM

"What's with that face, you look constipated." Iwaizumi abruptly spoke, sitting up on his bed as he pushed away a manga he was reading to narrow his eyes at his childhood friend.

Oikawa rested his head on Iwaizumi's bed and smirked, "That Karasuno girl seems like she's close with Tobio-chan." He sneered, shortly feeling a sharp pain on his forehead.

"Don't get any childish ideas, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi spoke sternly in his signature monotone voice as he retreated his fingers after flicking his captain on the forehead.

next:  -ˏˋ chapter three ˊˎ-

previous:  -ˏˋ chapter one ˊˎ-