mptalitylustt

a/n: YES I KNOW THE CHEMISTRY NERD KUROO CONCEPT IS FAR TOO OVERUSED. but i unfortunately could not care less. and i wanted an excuse to use cheesy pick up lines. so heejehjehjw here

this was especially inspired by @showhay's fic here (if you see this nique i love your writing so much and i'd love to like dm u but im rlly scared hahehdh) so major credits there!!

reader kinda mentally crashes out but like jokingly. this is all fluff :3 and the axis mundi line actually came from real life with my bsf and me during class

oh and reader is female. i have NO IDEA how to write gn or male readers im so sorry i promise i'll work on it

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tetsuro kuroo was annoying. unfair. because the smartest 3rd year by far at nekoma high should NOT have been this charming. or attractive. why couldn't he just be stupidly intelligent and leave it at that? why did he have to be the team captain for a national level volleyball team? why did he have to look like THAT, stepping out of the locker room, hair wet from a shower and sticking perfectly to his forehead. you so badly wanted to tell him to put the hair gel DOWN. but oh well, he still looked hot alright with that stupid hairstyle that should not have worked for him. but still did. not only that, but he just had to go and be a nice person as well. couldn't he have been a douchebag? he had EVERYTHING else going on for him! but nooo he had to just be this loyal, hilarious, and supportive friend, student, teammate, and captain. it was infuriating.

and it was bad enough that you were thinking this way about him at all. because it meant his "attempts" were working. to be honest, they'd been working probably even before he'd started trying. but these attempts had you giggling like a ridiculous 13 year old every evening. never in front of his face though; you didn't want to widen that stupid adorable smirk of his any more than necessary.

see, you and him had known each other ever since junior high, and you've always had a teensy, tiny little crush on him. along with every other girl who'd ever come in contact with him. and you were close-ish? close enough that you'd wave and smile if you saw him, but you never had a conversation with him for over 10 minutes. not to mention, you'd sure as heck never initiate an interaction with him. and you liked it that way! it was fun just admiring someone from afar, never having to worry about anything becoming real- until the universe decided to flip your life entirely upside down.

it had started 3 months ago with a note he passed during advanced biology.

"y/n, are you made of copper and tellurium, or can i just call you Cu-Te?"

you stared at that scrap of paper for about a minute before sputtering and throwing it back at him, pretending like your cheeks weren't the same shade as his tie. he'd laughed, far too loudly for a class that half the students were failing, but you supposed when one was that smart and had even the professor obsessed with them it didn't quite matter. you even told him to be quiet, which he did, but not before winking and grinning to himself even afterwards.

the next incident happened in the lab that same week. he'd leaned over, seemingly waiting to use the microscope after you. but after he'd tapped your shoulder and gotten your attention, he whispered, "i'd kill to be the cell under that microscope. you know, getting all of your attention." you'd then choked on absolutely nothing, leading to him gently patting your back, making some excuse to your professor about how the magic of science just caught you so off guard. and of course, your poor, clueless professor just laughed it off before going on about how he once experienced something like that... but none of that registered to you because tetsuro's hand. was. on. your. back. his extremely strong hand that you'd seen hit countless volleyballs, the hand you'd stared at one too many times in class, the hand that you'd love to hold someday-

another incident happened the exact same day. this time in history class. you had been learning about latin concepts, beliefs, how they impacted daily life, all that. then tetsuro walks around the classroom, yet another note in hand, dropping it at the corner of your desk on his way to the pencil sharpener.

you take a deep breath, begging yourself to stay calm as you unfold it and read it. "i think i believe in the concept of axis mundi now. because you're the center of my universe ;)" not the wink. he did NOT draw an adorable little wink emoji onto that paper. he was going to actually KILL you.

more and more incidents came in the days and weeks after that.

"i'd cross a cell membrane without transport proteins just to reach you."

"are you mitochondria? cause you're the powerhouse of my heart."

"if you were a triangle, you'd be acute one."

"are you an asymptote? because I find myself getting closer and closer to you."

"i'm so attracted to you that scientists will have to discover a fifth fundamental force."

and somehow, with each pick up line, you grew closer and closer. he opened up a bit more, and you laughed a little easier around him. he pretended to need help with certain subjects just to spend more time with you, and you genuinely saw yourself improving because of how much he'd study with you. and though you wouldn't find out until one fateful day, he was falling harder and harder every day. what had started out as a little silly crush on his side became a full on unrelenting desire to be with you, make you laugh, and make you feel, well, happy.

Too Cold To Sleep - Sanemi Drabble

Author's Note: SOFT SANEMI GETS ME EVERY SINGLE TIME. Thank you so much anon for the request! I absolutely loved writing this! Also the lowercase is intentional because I was sort of lazy writing this, sorry! Pairing(s): Sanemi x fem!reader ~460 ish words 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Sanemi wasn’t a morning person.

this was something everyone knew.

you especially.

which was why seeing him standing in your doorway before sunrise was concerning enough to make you sit upright immediately.

“…Sanemi?”

he looked exhausted.

hair messy, haori half slipping off one shoulder, expression stuck somewhere between irritated and completely dead inside.

“the sparring field’s occupied,” he grumbled.

you blinked. “okay…?”

“and?”

“and what?”

his glare sharpened.

then, after a long, painful pause, he muttered, “…move over.”

you stared at him.

Sanemi stared back, visibly regretting every decision that had led him here.

“…you woke me up,” you said slowly, “because someone was using the training field?”

“no.”

“yes, you did.”

“tch.”

before you could argue further, he walked into the room anyway and dropped heavily onto the edge of your futon.

the entire mattress shifted with his weight.

you looked at him. “what are you doing?”

“sleeping.”

“in my room?”

“you got a problem with that?”

“a little?!”

Sanemi groaned quietly, dragging one hand down his face. “you ask too many questions this early.”

“you literally broke into my room early in the morning.”

“didn’t break in. the door wasn’t locked.”

“that’s worse somehow.”

he ignored you completely, already lowering himself onto the futon like this was the most normal thing in the world.

you could only stare as the terrifying wind hashira pulled your blanket halfway over himself with zero shame.

“…Sanemi.”

“hm?”

“you have your own room.”

“mine’s cold.”

you opened your mouth.

closed it.

opened it again.

“…you came here because your room was cold?”

“don’t repeat it like that.”

there was genuine irritation in his voice now, which only made this more ridiculous.

you looked at him for another second before finally sighing in defeat.

“unbelievable.”

“hurry up and lay back down.”

“you’re very demanding for someone invading my bed.”

“tch.”

still muttering under your breath, you settled back onto the futon carefully.

the moment you did, Sanemi shifted closer automatically.

not dramatic.

not clingy.

just enough for warmth.

your breath caught slightly.

he noticed immediately.

“…what?”

“nothing.”

“you’re being weird.”

“you are literally cuddling me right now.”

“i am not.”

his arm was fully around your waist.

you looked down at it pointedly.

Sanemi followed your gaze.

silence.

“…oh.”

the single word came out flat, like he genuinely hadn’t realized he’d done it.

you bit back a smile. “so?”

“so what?”

“are you gonna move?”

for a moment, he didn’t answer.

then his grip tightened slightly instead.

“…no.”

something warm bloomed in your chest instantly.

Sanemi clicked his tongue, eyes already closing again. “you’re warm. quit makin’ a big deal outta it.”

“you came in here like a stray cat looking for heat.”

“watch your mouth.”

you laughed softly despite yourself.

almost immediately, his brows furrowed.

“…why’re you laughing?”

“you’re cute.”

his eyes snapped open.

“i’m gonna leave.”

“but you won’t.”

a long pause.

then Sanemi buried his face deeper into the pillow with a low grumble.

“…shut up and go back to sleep.”

but he stayed exactly where he was.

arm still around your waist.

and five minutes later, you felt him pull you just a little closer in his sleep.

Thank you for reading <3 Credits to @saradika-graphics for the banners!

k. tetsuro | crimes against chad crack, kuroo being an idiot, gn! reader wc: 749

“I’m getting rid of it.” 

“No! Put him down!” 

“No!” 

“YES!” 

“STOP! HE’S GOING TO BLOW AWAY!” 

You lunged at your boyfriend, but Kuroo just palmed your face like a volleyball, holding you back as you swiped viciously at him. Your childhood stuffie was currently dangling out of the window by the thin strip of fabric that used to be his tail 

“Good! Maybe it will teach him that I - Kuroo Tetsuro - DO NOT SHARE!” 

And then Kuroo committed the ultimate crime - he dropped him. 

Out the window. 

From your 10 story apartment building. 

Kuroo’s beef with your childhood stuffed animal knew no bounds. Everywhere you went, so did the stuffie. Kuroo’s first problem with the stuffie was his name. It’s name was Chad. You named it Chad - like it was the president of a fraternity. Kuroo’s second problem? Chad’s spot? It was Kuroo’s. 

“Babe…” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why is it in my spot?” 

“Chad was here first.” 

“Tell Chad” he spat out the stuffie’s name in an annoyed tone, “to move.” 

“Sit next to him. He’s comfortable.” You returned your focus to your phone. 

Kuroo snatched up the stuffed animal by the throat and dropped him in your lap. You put him back. Kuroo moved him again. Same result. This happened four separate times which resulted in the window incident. 

You managed to slip past Kuroo’s obnoxiously long arms and look out the window. 

There laid your child.

Belly up.

In a mud puddle. 

Kuroo peered out the window, satisfied with his actions. “Maybe he will learn his lesson about hogging my girlfriend’s time.” 

“Kuroo.” 

“Yes?” 

“He’s face up.” 

“He’s still in one piece” He snorts. 

“In the mud…” 

“He’s in one piece. Besides, it builds character. He needed to experience the world” Kuroo started to walk away and then you suddenly grabbed him, shaking him back and forth. 

“From 10 stories up?!” You screeched.

Kuroo just flopped back and forth as you shook him, rambling on and on about the state of your stuffie. He rolled his eyes, clearly not fazed by your current emotional state. He just couldn’t see the absolute importance of the raggedy looking blob of fabric you called a stuffed animal. 

“Go get him.” You pointed out the window, your voice dangerously calm. 

Kuroo peered out the window and then turned to look at you. 

“No.” 

Silence. 

You blinked. 

“I’m sorry. I must not have heard you right, care to repeat that?” You asked.

“N.O” He crossed his arm, smirking like he had you cornered, “No is a complete sentence.” 

“Kuroo Tetsuro.” 

He raised a brow, “That’s me, sweet cheeks.” 

“If you do not retrieve my child-” 

“Your child?”

“-you are going to wish it was you that fell out that window.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

You took a step forward. 

Kuroo took a step backwards, leaning against the wall, acting like his entire existence wasn’t about to go up in flames. 

“I don’t make threats…I make promises…” You glared, voice dangerously calm. Calmer than he had ever heard it. Kuroo gulped, suddenly feeling very cornered and concerned. He glanced out the window, suddenly thinking that maybe retrieving the wet mop was his best chance of survival. 

“It’s literally falling apart-” 

“IT?! DID YOU JUST CALL HIM AN IT?!” 

He froze. Kuroo lifted his hands in surrender, realizing that his life was actually in danger. “Fine…” 

“Thank you.” 

He let out a breath, suddenly feeling very inconvenienced. “I’ll go get the stupid wet mop.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Walk.” You pointed at the door. 

~ 

10 minutes later, Kuroo stood in front of the washing machine, arms crossed as you scrubbed at Chad with a stain remover stick. 

“Are you really about to put that sad excuse for a stuffed animal in there?” 

You narrowed your eyes, “Well his father just tried to off him and he’s now covered in mud, so yes.” 

You gently placed Chad into the laundry bag and set it inside the washer. 

“For the record, I am not his father. That thing is too ugly to be my kid.” 

The washer clicked shut. 

“He’s perfect.” You retort, watching the bag spin for a moment. 

“It’s judging me.” 

“You did just drop him out a window.” 

Kuroo peered over your shoulder, glaring, and then went pale. Just for a split second, he could have sworn Chad smiled. 

“It just smiled at me.” 

You snorted. “No he didn’t” 

Kuroo took a step back, suddenly feeling a very ominous presence.

“I’m sleeping at Kenma’s…” 

a/n: kuroo is literally one of my favorite characters like ugh i love him down. as always, i hope you enjoy!

photos & fanart were found on Pinterest

if you know the artists of the images, please comment their users & platforms so i can credit them appropriately :) thank you

©ardxnlxst

He’s standing beside the counter in a pair of gray sweats, still half asleep, broad shoulders relaxed as he pours you both coffee.

You’re leaning against the counter, reminiscing on your old high school days out loud when you casually say, “God I was so in love with you in high school, it’s actually embarrassing”

The comment stops him dead in his tracks. He slowly turns to you, eyebrows pinches tight, “…Huh?”

You just laugh, the sound way too light and airy for the absolute bomb you just dropped on him.

He’s staring hard now, eyes glued to your face as if the answer might suddenly change if he looks hard enough.

“You liked me?”, he asks slowly.

You blink at him, “Yeah, wasn’t it obvious?”

The room goes silent for a second, both of you trying to process the new information.

“I thought you liked Issei”, he suddenly blurts with a frown.

“…Why would I like Issei?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

His jaw drops, “You two literally acted like a couple!”

That makes you snort, “Oh, that was his idea. We were trying to make you jealous”, you laugh a little, waving him off, “I just figured it didn’t work because you didn’t want me!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Iwa just stares at you like his entire high school experience is replaying behind his eyes in horrible, painful detail.

Every hangout where Matsukawa draped himself all over you, the teasing little comments and shy giggles.. Every single time you laughed at his dumb comments while Iwa sat there trying to force himself to be happy for you two.

“We could’ve been together so much sooner!” He barks, incredulous look on his face.

Now, it’s your turn to be stunned. You blink, “Wait…. What?”

“I was obsessed with you!”, he groans loudly, dramatically dragging his hands down his face, “Oikawa used to make fun of me because I’d bitch about you and Issei all the time!”

Your eyes widen, mouth falling open dramatically, “Shut up, no way!”

“All those years…” he groans, “All because that dumbass wanted to play mind games”

The laugh that escapes you cools him down a little. His shoulders loosen, huffing out his own little laugh as he shakes his head.

“Hey,” you say softly after a moment, smiling at him real sweet, “we got here eventually, didn’t we?”

And just like that, his irritation melts clean away.

Because you’re right here.

Messy morning hair.

One of his oversized shirts slipping off your shoulder.

Mismatched socks sliding against the kitchen floor.

Standing in your shared apartment making breakfast together like this was always where you were meant to end up.

His entire expression softens instantly, “…C’mere,” he mutters, already reaching for you.

You grin immediately, shuffling into his arms with a giggle as he wraps himself around you completely, pulling you flush against his chest and rocking you gently side to side.

“I can’t believe it” he mumbles into your hair.

You smile up at him, crinkling your nose, “Sorry, I really th-“

“No,” he cuts in immediately, pulling back just enough to look at you with pure disbelief, “I can’t believe Oikawa was right about it being fake”

You burst out laughing so hard you nearly choke.

Iwaizumi follows a second later, loud and bright, the sound filling the apartment and melting away the last sleepy traces of the morning completely.

————————————————————————

fluff

oikawa tōru who fell for you at first sight then fell even harder when you told him, “you’re really charming, it’s getting in my nerves.” it’s like his eyes had a built-in tracker just for you starting at that point.

oikawa tōru who got approached by his fan girls after he fell in love with you and immediately told them that he now has a wife, she just didn’t know that she’s married to him, but does it matter?

oikawa tōru who’s been crushing on you ‘til the end of time refuses to talk to girls, even his fan girls since he thinks that he’ll be cheating on you if he talks to them about anything more than stuff about school.

oikawa tōru who’s—if asked about you—will go on an endless monologue about every nook and cranny of your personality, sure he loves your looks, but he can’t all be superficial right? everything is for his beloved y/n-chan.

oikawa tōru who’ll look at you with hearts in his eyes no matter what you do. you’re being loud? amazing! you’re being mean? oh how he loves you. you failed a class? you did your best, you’ll always be his smart y/n! you passed your exams? time to celebrate! you have a stain on your face? you look perfect even when you’re messy, it’s unfair for his heart!

oikawa tōru who’ll shamelessly express his love for you, unless you seriously tell him to stop. he knows how to read you like a book so he knows when you’re being serious and when you aren’t, even if you don’t show it.

oikawa tōru who has a list of every favorite you have. favorite movie? check. favorite foods and drinks? double check. favorite person? quintuple check, quintuple because that’s how many syllables his name has!

oikawa tōru who tracks your off days. he knows when to tease, when to be serious, when to listen, and when to speak his mind about your problems.

oikawa tōru who’ll never push you into liking him back or reciprocating his feelings quickly, and urges you to not be pressured by his love. he’d rather admire you from afar—albeit violently sobbing—than make you comfortable with his feelings.

oikawa tōru who still waves to his fan girls but barely talks to them as he sincerely believes he doesn’t have to talk to any girl unless it’s you, or unless he has to talk to them about group projects, thought it never goes farther than that.

oikawa tōru who’s aware that what he’s doing can reflect horribly on you as people might assume you’re telling him to do it, so he announces it on the PA system.

“ahem—is this thing on? hello everyone who looks like wilted grass, and hello to my beloved y/n-chan! i’ve heard rumors talking about my y/n-chan controlling my actions which is definitely NOT true. i do this out of my sheer devotion for her. she’s my wife and i’d like for her to feel secure—” iwaizumi interrupts, “she’s not your wife—”

“she’s my wife at heart, iwa-chan! ow!” cue to one huge smack!

“didn’t feel that one bit, y/n-chan. i just did that so iwa-chan sounds strong. but if you wanna kiss my forehead then i don’t see why not— okay, reverting back to my topic. if anyone talks bad about my wife, i’m gonna spike a volleyball on your foot and make sure it’ll turn into mush.”

huge silence.

“okay, bye! see you in a minute, y/n-chan!” is all you hear before a huge blanket of a boy drapes himself over you.

oikawa tōru who looks nervous as you stare him down in the courtyard after his announcement. “okay, in my defense, i did it all for love.. i didn’t want anyone thinking that you’re controlling me—in which, you definitely could, just say the word—i don’t want anyone viewing you in a bad light because of me. even if.. even if you don’t like me back, i’m happy that you give me an ounce of your attention. i just— i just can’t stop loving you.” his voice falters slightly, shoulders slumping, his lower lip quivering just a bit. “i can’t get you out of my head. i don’t want you to get out of my head, please don’t push me away. just let me stay beside you even if you don’t share the same thing i feel. i don’t want a life without your presence in it.”

oikawa tōru who wraps his arms around you and sobs as you finally break, telling him you like him back, and that he’s stupid for even thinking otherwise.

oikawa tōru who’s over the moon while walking you home, gently rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “i can’t believe you like me back, y/n-chan. i thought you were just tolerating me.”

“at times.”

“WHAT?”

“i said i love you.”

oikawa tōru who goes back to sobbing at that, hugging you tight outside your house. “i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you.” he murmurs.

oikawa tōru who—after a few minutes—finally lets go of you to go back to his house, but not before pecking your lips. he runs away, giggling like a school girl.

oikawa tōru who’s actually also your neighbor, so you hear him fan girling about you to his mother who squeals with him.

oikawa tōru who never lets go of you and his dream, which is now also you. he drags you to argentina with him, he saved up so he could take both of you. he begged your parents to get their permission until they agree (they weren’t planning to decline anyway).

oikawa tōru who still shamelessly talks about you on media, he has your name on a sweatband. he’s known as “tōru the loverboy” because that’s what he’ll always be, just for you.

a/n: i’ll be busy this week right until friday or when my presentation finishes :(

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

bokuto kōtarō x f!reader

bokuto would do anything for you, even if it isn’t your birthday.

wc: 1.4k, request

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETHEART @bigdaddyyaoii MWUAH!!

atsumu miya x reader

SYNOPSIS atsumu has a huge crush on you, his brothers best friend. and with the help of osamu and a horror movie, he finally confesses.

osamu miya has been your bestfriend ever since middle school.

from the day you two met, it just clicked instantly.

you haven’t gone a day without hanging around him, even so far as going to the same school as him when you both entered highschool, just to be able to hang out with him more often.

and you’d think that being friends with osamu would naturally also make you befriend atsumu, since they’re literally inseparable. but that’s really not the case.

atsumu’s a very arrogant, handsome and cocky bastard. but he completely freezes up whenever you’re around.

when he sees you, his heart does around twenty somersaults in his chest, along with the inability to breathe for what feels like two decades.

it could be at school, or whenever you’re over at their place, you never fail to literally take his breath away and choke on the insult he was about to throw osamu’s way.

he’s just so undeniably in love with you, it physically aches in a good way.

from the moment he first saw you. which was on a rainy thursday in may, your whole entire body being drenched to the bone, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, standing in the entrance to the gym, he was in love.

that was the day his entire perspective on life changed.

he wasn’t just going to chase a successful volleyball career, but he was also going to chase you, figuratively and literally, until you’re finally his.

but the problem is, he doesn’t know how.

he’s a complete nervous wreck when you’re even in the same room as him. he can’t even look you in the eye without combusting internally.

and osamu gives him absolute hell for it.

every single volleyball practice goes the exact same.

‘ya should just confess, ‘tsumu.’ ‘well i can’t! i can’t even talk ta’ her like a normal dude, my heart explodes everytime she’s near!’

‘if ya can’t even confess to a girl you see everyday, than what can ya even do, moron!’ cue osamu giving atsumu a harsh slap on his face to put some sense into him.

‘ ‘samu, stop naggin’ me about it will ya!?’ atsumu yells back while slapping osamu twice as hard, starting yet another fight between the two.

suna pulls out his phone to record, ‘i’ll send this to y/n, wonder what she thinks of your crap.’ he says loud enough for atsumu to hear.

‘don’t ya dare do that, sunarin! i’ll seriously kill yer ass!’ and it always ends up with kita’s calm demeanor creeping everyone out, making them forget what happened in the first place anyway.

suna doesn’t send the videos to you, but he does have a dedicated folder of all of them, waiting for the day atsumu finally gathers enough guts to actually out. and only then will he send you the collection, you’ll get to know just how bad atsumu was crushing on you.

some of the videos are rather embarrassing ones, one of them is atsumu sick to the point of fainting, laying down on the waxed floorboards muttering your name like a prayer.

‘y/n-chan.. she’s so pretty.. an’ smart.. an’.. amazing..’ he was babbling your name and all your best qualities, until he eventually did pass out. but it did make for a hilarious scene.

and those are only small tidbits of what happens at practice, sometimes he’s so off his game because he’s thinking of you.

your pretty face, soft hair that he’d love to rake his fingers through, your soft lips that he’d love to feel against his, your perfect hands, ones that he wants to hold until his last breath, the way you laugh at osamu’s jokes, hoping that one day you’ll laugh at one of his like that.

you’ve successfully found your way into his mind at constant, sitting right next to volleyball, and everything else in that head of his.

the crush he has on you is very movie plot worthy, that’s how bad it is.

it’s a friday afternoon at practice, and atsumu is setting the worst balls of his life.

‘ ‘tsumu the hell is wrong with ya!’ osamu shouts, absolutely done with the horrible balls he’s been given by atsumu, they’re barely even reachable.

atsumu groans loud enough it echoes through the gymnasium, but he doesn’t give an answer to osamu, making his brother even more annoyed than before.

‘spit it out! ya always berate me when my plays are shit, so now i’m doing it to ya!’ he grabs atsumu by the collar, fed up with the lame excuses the fake blonde has been giving him this entire practice session.

‘i can’t focus ya dipshit! ya told me y/n was comin’ over tonight and now i can’t focus!’ atsumu yells back, tugging on the front of osamu’s shirt with a vice grip.

‘yer being this useless cause’ y/n’s on yer mind? get a grip ‘tsumu, ya can’t be like this forever! jus’ confess to her for fucks sake!’ suna’s got his phone whipped out, and everyone’s exchanging looks between eachother.

‘how do ya want me to do that?! if i’m in the same room as her i feel like i’m havin’ a heart attack!’ osamu rolls his eyes, not believing the words coming out of atsumu’s mouth, ‘why the hell are ya so nervous around her? i haven’t seen ya this nervous since we were like five!’ osamu lets go of his grip on atsumu’s shirt, crossing his arms like a disappointed mother.

‘she’s like my dream girl y’know! she’s basically perfection in human form!’ atsumu half yells half whines, the tips of his ears going red at the thought of you.

‘yer so stupid,’ osamu mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

‘what was that?’ atsumu’s already prepared to start another pointless fight with his brother, this time over literally nothing important.

but then, the gym doors swing open. carrying a loud gush of wind into the gymnasium.

everyone looks to that direction, and there you are. hair messy like you personally fought a tornado, flushed cheeks from running all the way here, probably.

‘yo, ‘samu!’ you quip, still trying to catch your breath from the mini marathon you ran from the main building to the gymnasium.

‘did ya run all the way here? ya look awful.’ he laughs, walking over to you and ruffling your hair a little, messing it up even more than before.

you give him a look, narrowing your eyes at him. ‘practice ends at five doesn’t it? i’m just five minutes early.’ you tell him, your eyes scanning the space infront of you.

the gym’s still messy, balls laid astray on the floor, towels and water bottles haphazardly thrown in the large sink.

normally they would’ve been cleaning up by now. well kita is, the rest just aren’t.

atsumu looks like he’s about to shit his pants, suna has a regular bored look on his face, and kita just looks unimpressed.

but the elephant in the room is, that it’s really quiet. and it’s never quiet when inarizaki has practice going on.

well sure it was quiet because you barged in, but the minute before that you also didn’t hear anything.

you figured the twins must’ve fought again, osamu’s shirt like it’s been tugged on pretty hard. the front of his shirt all crumpled up.

‘did you two fight again?’ you ask osamu, shifting on your feet. ‘nah, ‘tsumu jus’ wouldn’t admit somethin’ to me.’ you nod, taking a look at atsumu who’s now awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

in the times you’ve been friends with osamu, you’ve learnt to never ask what they were fighting about. no matter how bruised and battered they made the other. it’d always start another fight.

so you just wonder, wonder what they’ve fought about. and this time it was actually about you.

about atsumu being too nervous to confess his undying feelings for you, and being unable to be in the same room as you without combusting into a thousand little pieces.

but you’ll be oblivious to that fact until further notice.

kita calls everyone to help him clean up, something they should’ve been doing instead of watching the twins fight once again.

and when everyone turns around to start doing so, everything’s already done. the stray volleyballs have been placed in the basket, the water bottles have been neatly aligned, and the towels have been thrown in the laundry basket.

‘just go home,’ kita says, his expression sending a shiver down everyone’s spine. including yours, and he wasn’t even talking to you.

everyone straightens up and rush to the locker room to get their belongings, leaving you alone for around thirty seconds.

‘ya ready to go?’ osamu calls out at you, his brother following suit behind him. you give him a thumbs up, flashing him a small smile that atsumu happens to see.

and it makes his heart nearly explode.

such a small, graceful smile has changed the wiring of his brain, he’ll cherish it until the day he dies.

‘ ‘tsumu, you okay? you look flushed.’ you point out, walking two steps to stand infront of the fake blonde, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

osamu clenches his jaw, knowing what you just did is not good for his brother’s wellbeing.

because atsumu tenses the second your hand’s touching his skin, full body jolt and then he’s as still as a renaissance statue.

‘you’re really warm, i think you have a fever.’ your hand goes down to his cheek, which is really red, and really really hot.

you’re genuinely concerned for his wellbeing, osamu has to hold in his laughter, and atsumu has stopped functioning, his cheeks getting hotter and hotter with the longer your palm is on it.

‘ ‘tsumu—’ ‘he’s fine, let’s go.’ osamu yanks your arm away from atsumu’s cheek, gently.

you take one look at atsumu, who doesn’t look as fine as his brother claims, his eyes wide and dazed, cheeks still red as they were before your hand got yanked away.

osamu’s already outside, atleast thirty steps away from the gym. ‘hurry up! i don’t have all day.’ osamu yells, still taking lazy strides foward.

you rush out at osamu’s call, leaving behind a still very dazed, and tensed up setter.

it’s only a short ten minute walk to the miya’s home, which is usually filled with bickering between the two, but this time it’s quiet. and that’s because atsumu hasn’t said a word yet.

maybe they had an argument about something really serious earlier, but osamu doesn’t seem bothered by anything, his expression seems normal, no twitch in his brow or a scowl, nothing.

atsumu doesn’t look pissed either, but he doesn’t have a neutral expression on, he sort of looks really stressed out. a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, probably still from practice though, or maybe the fever he’s running.

but little do you know, you’re the cause of his elevated stress levels.

you touched him, twice. both on his face, for his wellbeing, you cared, for his wellbeing.

he wonders how you’d treat him if he were actually sick, would you feed him pickled plums? run him a bath? kiss his forehead to check his temperature? coddle him like a baby? boss him around that he can’t get out of bed no matter the occasion?

you’d be the best caregiver ever, he knows it, and he’s convinced. you’re the only one he’d let take care of him, nobody else, just you.

‘ ‘tsumu walk faster! did ya transform into a snail or somethin’ ?’ osamu snaps, effectively snapping atsumu out of his daydreaming.

‘shut up ‘samu!’ he yells back, although he does pick uo his pace a little, now walking beside his brother to elbow him, which the grey haired happily returns.

and before they can pull at eachother’s hair, you arrive at their home. the upcoming fight scheduled for a later date, or never, you hope.

‘ ‘tsumu, come with me. y/n, ya can change in the bathroom.’ before either of you can respond, osamu’s already dragging his twin to their shared bedroom.

you go to the bathroom to get changed out of your nasty uniform from wearing it at school all day, while osamu has had it with his brother.

‘yer such n’ idiot! do ya know how stupid ya looked earlier?!’ osamu slams the door behind him, keeping his voice low enough so that you won’t overhear their conversation.

‘well what was i supposed ta’ do?! her hand was on my face, ‘samu. her hand!’ atsumu’s voice is a pinch too loud, causing osamu to slap a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

‘shut yer trap! if ya don’t confess soon enough i might have ta’ do it for ya!’ atsumu yanks the hand off his mouth, ‘ya wouldn’t dare! give me a break will ya, i can’t rush somethin’ like that! ‘s gotta be perfect!’

‘who cares if ‘s perfect, the answer’ll stay the same anyway! ‘s not about how you do it, ‘s about who does it, ya seriously don’t understand that?’

shit, he’s right. for once in his life, atsumu actually agrees with what osamu’s said.

it’s about the person, not about the location or how it’s done.

you could ask someone out in math class, and if they like you, they’ll say yes. since it’s not the location or moment you’re going to date, it’s the person you fall in love with.

that means, he could probably blurt it out whenever, and depending if you reciprocate his feelings or not, you’ll say yes, because it’s him you say yes to, not how or when he does it.

‘huh, that kinda makes sense.’ atsumu mutters, very deep in thought.

so basically, he has to grow some balls for one moment, any moment at all, to ask you out, and the answer depends if you like him like he likes you.

sounds simple enough, the only thing it’ll take is courage, and a hell of a lot of it.

he can do that, he can find enough courage. he’s atsumu freaking miya afterall, he can do anything, even ask the girl of his dreams out.

it’s going to be easy, he won’t mess anything up, or will he?

anyhow, it’s been five minutes, and atsumu is still standing in the same position, eyes fixed on a stain on the floor, still very deep in thought.

while osamu’s already changed out of his practice clothes, and in something more comfortable. a shower will come later.

‘you guys okay in there?’ you knock on the door to their bedroom, a little concerned since there was quite the bit of yelling not long ago.

‘ ‘tsumu, go change!’ is the last thing osamu yells at atsumu before opening the door to you. ‘everything alright?’ you ask, looking behind osamu to see a very focused atsumu, not doing what his brother told him.

‘yep, had to kick some sense inta’ him. let’s order food, ‘m hungry.’ he brushes past you to the kitchen, setting humself on a chair and scrolling on his phone for the food delivery app.

‘what’dya wanna eat?’ he yells from across the room, ‘coming!’ you quickly pad away to the kitchen, your eyes shooting to atsumu for one quick second before you leave.

even though he didn’t look at you, atsumu still combusted internally, seconds away from giggling like a highschool girl.

your voice is captivating, it’s perfection to his ears, it’s like a spell he wouldn’t mind falling for, it’s music to his ears.

he could listen to you talk for hours on end, and still tell you to keep going.

but what’s not music to his ears, is his brother yelling at him, for the nth time this day.

‘ ‘tsumu get yer ass over here! we’re tryna order somethin’! ’ he quickly tugs off his clothes from practice and changes into a random tee and some sweats. then finally comes to the kitchen.

you three sit around the kitchen table, with the very tough decision on what to order.

‘ya’ll want ramen? chinese?’ you groan at the two options he’s given, you’re not craving either of those. and you don’t know what exactly you’re craving.

‘pho?’ you blurt out, now that you’ve said it. it does sound really good. ‘sure, ‘tsumu?’ ‘ ‘m fine with whatever.’ he murmurs, stretching his arms behind his head.

you and osamu share a very knowing look.

atsumu is never fine with ‘whatever’, he always has to argue back and forth until he agrees wholeheartedly.

neither of you decide to comment on his weird behavior, even though it’s really tempting to.

you all put in your orders, watching how eerily calm atsumu’s being, not fighting about the extra beef he usually wants with it, which is again, really weird coming from him.

a small twenty minutes later, the food finally arrived. and you all dig in, the room filled with slurping noises and osamu choking on the noodles from eating too fast.

atsumu keeps eyeing up at you, watching your cute expressions while you’re eating.

the way the corners of your mouth tug up a little when you take another bite, all the flavors exploding on your tongue filling you with joy.

you look adorable with your cheeks stuffed. happily munching away at your meal without a care in the world.

he could squish your cheeks from how much cuteness agression you give him, he could totally take a bite out of your cheeks right now.

osamu notices the glances atsumu takes at you, and since he’s not that of an asshole to verbally point it out, he instead stomps on his brother’s foot, hard.

‘—ow! the hell was that for?!’ atsumu yelps. his knee hitting the table from jerking it away, knocking over his own bowl of food, and nearly your own. good thing you all finished your food.

‘felt like it,’ osamu gets up from his chair and starts gathering all the takeout containers and throwing them in the original bag they came in, just to get the mess out of the way.

another little while later, you’ve all cleaned up, and are now seated on the comfortable couch. attempting to pick a movie to watch tonight.

although it’s not that easy to pick a movie when you’re with the miya’s.

they bicker alot on a regular basis, and you guessed it. it’s worse when it’s time to pick a movie.

although this time, atsumu’s only giving half assed answers, a ‘nah, already saw that,’ with every movie that gets clicked. no fire in his words like usual, which is weird.

but little do you know, it’s about you, again.

you’re too close to him.

your thigh is brushing his everytime you shift, along with your shoulder.

he can smell you, you smell like heaven and coconut, along with something fresh, probably your conditioner.

your side profile’s also really pretty, even better up close.

and the light from the television highlights your already beautiful features even more, you look like an angel that got sent from heaven to save him, save him from his embarrassing crush on you.

he’s staring, so hard, completely unaware of it too.

you’re just so pretty, he can’t help himself.

you’re a blessing to his eyes, you’re the sun, the stars, and everything he’s ever dreamed of.

his thoughts get interrupted, this time not by osamu, but by the loudest bloodcurdling scream coming from the television. and he himself nearly lets out a scream adjacent to the one on screen.

‘ ‘samu, why the hell’d ya pick a horror movie?!’ neither of you three likes horror movies, so why’d he pick the scariest one on the internet?

well, it’s because osamu’s so done with atsumu’s nervous highschool girl behavior around you, that he thought it’d be a great idea to put on a horror movie, so the fake blonde will jump in your lap with every jumpscare, and maybe that’d lead to him finally confessing.

it’s an idea he put around forty seconds of thought in, but he’s betting it’ll work. or atleast in some way.

and that’s also why he watched this movie beforehand, even if he also isn’t very fond of horror movies, to know where the scariest jumpscares are, so he can leave the room to make it a little easier for his brother.

it’s probably the most thoughtful thing he’s done for his brother, ever.

and he’ll surely get atsumu to pay back the favor, because why should he do something so generous with no costs attached.

the movie’s packed with jumpscares, one around every ten minutes. so another one should come very soon.

‘ ‘m gonna get some snacks, ya’ll want anything?’ osamu takes one look at atsumu, and notices just how insanely tense he looks.

his fists are balled so tight his knuckles are white, he looks like he’s barely breathing, staying as still as humanly possible, probably cause you’re centimeters away from touching him.

‘i’m fine, thanks,’ you smile, then return your attention back on the screen, not affording to miss more than two seconds of the movie.

even if it’s a horror movie, the plot’s still pretty good, you’re only unaware that there’s about to be a jumpscare that’ll scare a near heart attack out of you.

the temptation’s rising, the music’s becoming intenser with every step the main character takes, the floorboards creak, and then—

‘AH!’ you physically jump, hiding yourself against the closest thing next to you, which happens to be, well, atsumu miya. his chest to be precise.

his arms wrap around you on instinct, like it’s the most normal thing to do.

you don’t even realize where you’ve put your head until you feel a frantic thump against your forehead.

your head shoots up with the speed of lightning, your expression horrified. ‘i’m so sorry!’ you blurt out, staring him directly in his big, brown doe eyes, and he looks as equally terrified as you do.

his hands are still on you, and this time it doesn’t make him feel as nervous as it should.

‘ ‘s okay— i have somethin’ to tell ya though.’ this is the time, this is the perfect time to confess, you hid yourself against him. not in your arms, a pillow, against him.

that’s got to mean something, means that you probably trust him, more than the pillow you’ve been clutching for five minutes.

he’s going to do it, he has to.

you nod, trying not to focus on the eerie music in the background too much.

‘y/n, i love ya. yer everything i’ve ever dreamed of, and i always feel like i’m ‘bout to combust in a million pieces when yer around. yer perfect, ya’ve got no flaws whatsoever. and i know i’m a cocky bastard who’s only got volleyball on his mind, but i mean it, i like you, i even remember the day that i really fell in love with ya.’

he takes a deep breath in, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter to ground himself, and to not freak out completely.

‘ ‘t was in our first year, ya showed up to the gym completely soaked to yer shoes, yer cheeks were tomato red, and ya had this adorable look on yer face, an’ that’s what made me fall in love with ya.’

he’s not freaking out, he’s actually doing it, he’s actually confessing to you, with very creepy music in the background.

‘so please, save my dignity when i ask ya this, d’ya wanna be my girlfriend?’ he’s staring deep into your eyes to find even a speckle of doubt, but he doesn’t find any.

‘yes— yes i’d love to be yours!’ you wrap your arms around his neck immediately, hugging him as close to you as humanly possible, and so does he.

he wraps his arms around you like you’re a lifeline, and he lets out the most relieved sigh of his life.

you’re his now, he gets to call you his.

osamu’s standing at the corner of the hallway, the most prideful smirk on his face, as if to say ‘congrats, bro. ya finally did it.’

a/n: i feel like this is my best work yet, i’m so proud of it, i don’t know how 4k words happened..

tags: @akaashiit, @blythmourning, @bakugosgrenade, @bookworm-center, @levisotakugf, @wellitseugi, @badtzmai, @returntothefae, @noyamlv, @charukii, @amisuh, @z9mbo, @showhay, @wowbyselene, @heavybit3rr, @kotarosangel, @kpopmultistans, @girlwithanattitude, @eclipsedivan, @imgonnashartmyself, @listentothemelody00, @dearestelsie, @scarymygodurdivine, @qrxswan, @immortalblazethief,, @wave2cal, @tdntu0, @s1ckntw1st3d, @imagoodwriter, @haniipie, @venusdreamr, @st3rdust7, @cwinxclub, @superswagboi05, @creamelon, @xyyyulat, @catgvrl, @shookykookie30, @tchmiya, @https-kasley, @katsukisser, @a2m-saranghae, @miismelater, @sunnysideupx5, @juhonarrt, @thickthighsthickthighs

when you leave it got me feeling like so depressed.

timeskip!MSBY!bokuto kōtarō x f!reader being MSBY’s and bokuto’s beloved manager is easy until you get sick, and bokuto loses the light of his life.

​entropy is a scientific concept, but in the msby black jackals’ gym, it looked exactly like a six-foot-two man slumped in the corner behind a stray ball cart.

​the atmosphere was practically tectonic. usually, the gym vibrated with the sound of ‘HEY HEY HEY!’ and the thunderous percussion of spikes hitting the floor. today? it sounded like a funeral for a very loud bird.

​bokuto was currently experiencing the psychological equivalent of a total solar eclipse. you weren’t there. for the first time in the history of his professional career, the spot three feet to the left of the bench—the spot where you usually stood with a clipboard and that specific, grounding smile—was vacant. empty. a void.

[[Author Allie here! Just a few random thoughts I had about Javier, since he was on my mind lately. These ones are all sfw. Enjoy (:]]

-----

Javier is someone who gets super attached and feels things very deeply. He practically worships Dutch as a savior, he was willing to kill a high ranking military man back in Mexico because of a woman he was in love with. He doesn't do attachment in half measures, he falls into feelings intensely.

I'm sorry but I cannot for the life of me see Javier as the smooth, suave flirter I see him being portrayed as by a lot of fans... we literally see him flirting with a woman in the first mission in game with the prostitutes in Valentines - he's not charming, he's a little awkward, he won't touch her (unlike Charles who does casually touch the woman he's talking to), and he just sighs in disappointment when she walks away. Combined with a few of his voice lines when talking to other characters, such as when he says "Words fail us all when it comes to women" to John, I do not get the sexy charmer vibes. This guy is earnest and passionate, but he is not smooth with it.

Contraband

One: The Weasley Problem

The problem with Fred Weasley was not that he was annoying.

You could have dealt with annoying. Annoying was manageable. Annoying was something you could build a defence against and maintain with reasonable consistency.

The problem with Fred Weasley was that he was annoying and funny and he knew it, and the combination of those three things meant he operated with a kind of confident ease that made it very difficult to look at him without your brain doing something you hadn't given it permission to do.

He sat two rows across from you in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

'Sat' was generous. He occupied the space. Sprawled into it. Took up exactly as much room as he felt like taking up on any given day, and somehow Umbridge had never managed to make him sit up straight, which you suspected was a source of genuine personal anguish for her.

He'd first spoken to you properly in September. Not counting the years of existing in the same castle — you'd been in the same year since first year, you knew who he was the way you knew who everyone was, but knowing wasn't the same as speaking.

September. Umbridge had just handed back a particularly insulting essay grade and you'd made the mistake of muttering 'this is actually educational malpractice' under your breath, and from two rows across Fred Weasley had said, without looking up, 'educational malpractice. I'm using that.'

'Please don't,' you'd said.

'Too late. It's mine now.'

'I coined it.'

'And I've claimed it. Spoils of war.'

Umbridge had looked over. Both of you had looked very interested in your parchment.

After class he'd fallen into step beside you in the corridor and said, 'Fred Weasley. In case you didn't know.'

'I know who you are.'

'Good. What's your name?'

You told him.

'Right,' he said, like he was filing it somewhere. 'I'll be needing that.'

'For what?' you'd asked.

He'd grinned — that specific Fred Weasley grin, the one that meant something was already in motion that you hadn't been informed about — and said 'you'll see' and turned down a different corridor.

You had, in retrospect, been doomed from that moment.

It had taken you several more weeks to admit it.

✦ ✦ ✦

The thing about fifth year was that everything had a weight to it that the previous four hadn't.

You felt it in the corridors — something taut and low, the way the air felt before a storm. Umbridge in the castle and her decrees going up on the noticeboard one after another, each one landing like a small controlled explosion. No gatherings. No organisations. No independent study of defensive magic. The Ministry's hand reaching all the way to Hogwarts and closing around it, slowly, like it had all the time in the world.

You'd heard about the DA from Ginny, who had heard about it from Hermione, who had looked at you with the very specific expression of someone deciding whether to trust you with something important and deciding yes.

'It's risky,' Hermione had said.

'Most worthwhile things are,' you'd said.

Hermione had nodded once, like you'd passed something.

The first meeting was in the Hog's Head, which smelled terrible and was clearly chosen because nobody sane would linger there. You'd filed in with the others, found a space, and were trying to look like someone who attended clandestine anti-Ministry meetings all the time, which was the exact kind of thing you thought about, when Fred Weasley appeared at your elbow.

'Educational malpractice,' he said, very quietly, into the space beside your ear.

You startled. He was closer than you'd expected. Close enough that you could smell the particular Fred Weasley combination of something smoky and something sweet, which was presumably the product of spending every available hour working on things that occasionally exploded.

'You're still using that,' you said.

'It's a good phrase. It captures the full horror of the situation.'

'I want credit.'

'You'll get a footnote,' he said. 'In the official account of the revolution.'

'The revolution.'

'Someone's got to call it that. Might as well start now.'

Harry had started talking at the front of the room. You both turned to listen.

Fred didn't move away.

You didn't move away either.

You told yourself it was just the room being crowded.

The room was not, especially, crowded.

Two: The Room of Requirement

DA meetings became the fixed point of the week.

Everything else was Umbridge's Hogwarts — the decrees, the inspections, the Educational Authority nonsense that had settled over the castle like a particularly vindictive fog. But the Room of Requirement was something else. Warm and lit and full of people who had all collectively decided that learning to defend themselves was worth the risk of being caught, which was, you had decided, one of the braver things you'd ever been part of.

Fred Weasley was, reliably, at your elbow.

Not in a way you could call him out on. Not in a way that was obvious. Just — there. When you were practicing Expelliarmus, there was a Fred-shaped presence somewhere nearby making commentary. When Harry was explaining Patronuses and you were frowning at your wand trying to find the right memory, a voice appeared beside you saying 'you're overthinking it.'

'How do you know?' you'd said.

'Your face does this thing when you're overthinking.'

'My face does not do a thing.'

'It does. It goes — ' he'd pulled a face that was a completely unfair impression of your concentration expression.

'It does not look like that.'

'It looks exactly like that. You look like you're trying to do sums in your head.'

'I'm trying to access a specific memory, it requires concentration — '

'What's the memory?'

You'd stopped.

'Sorry?' you'd said.

'The happy memory. What is it?' He tilted his head. Not joking now, just — asking. Looking at you with an attention that was different from the banter, steadier. 'The best ones are specific. Not big things. Small ones. Moments.'

You'd looked at him for a second. 'How do you know that?'

'Because George's Patronus is our mum's cooking on Sundays,' he said. 'And mine is — ' He stopped. Looked briefly like he hadn't meant to say that much. 'Anyway. Small moments. Try that.'

You'd tried it.

The Patronus had come — silver, substantial, more than the wisp you'd been managing — and Fred had made a sound of satisfaction beside you that you felt more than heard.

'Told you,' he said.

'You did,' you agreed.

He was already grinning. Back to Fred, the version you were used to. But you'd seen the other one, just for a moment, and you were not going to be able to un-see it.

Which was, you were beginning to understand, rather the problem.

✦ ✦ ✦

The Decoy Detonators incident happened on a Thursday.

You hadn't been involved, technically. You'd been in the corridor adjacent to the one where a small army of Fred and George's prototype devices had gone off simultaneously, which technically put you in the wrong place at an extremely interesting time.

You'd been pulled into an alcove by a hand around your wrist — Fred, appearing from nowhere the way he always seemed to, George immediately behind him — just as Filch came thundering around the corner.

The three of you pressed back into the shadows. Fred's hand was still around your wrist. Filch stood in the corridor for approximately thirty seconds that felt significantly longer, peered at the smoke still curling from the Detonators, muttered something unprintable, and left.

Silence.

George looked at the two of you, looked at Fred's hand on your wrist, and said 'I'll meet you upstairs' with the energy of someone exercising enormous self-control, and left.

Fred's hand dropped. He had the grace to look slightly caught out, which was not an expression you saw on him often.

'Sorry,' he said. 'Reflex.'

'Pulling people into alcoves is a reflex?'

'Pulling people out of the path of trouble is a reflex.' He glanced at the corridor where Filch had been. 'You were about to walk right into that.'

'I was going to the library.'

'You were going to the library via a corridor full of our finest work.' He said it with complete pride. 'You're welcome, by the way.'

'I didn't say thank you.'

'That's what the 'you're welcome' was for. Pre-emptive.'

You looked at him. The alcove was not large. He hadn't moved back, which meant the distance between you was the distance of two people who had just been pressing themselves into shadows trying not to get caught, which was to say: not much.

'Were those the Decoy Detonators?' you said. 'The ones you were testing last month?'

He blinked. 'You remember that?'

'You mentioned them. In the Hog's Head, that first meeting. You said you were working on something that would cause a diversion.'

Fred Weasley looked at you the way people looked at things that had surprised them.

'You were listening,' he said.

'I listen to most things.'

'I talk a lot.'

'I know. I still listened.'

Something moved across his face. There and gone. He stepped back, gave you the corridor distance back, and the moment was over.

'Come on then,' he said. 'Library's this way. I'll walk you, make sure there aren't any more diversions en route.'

'That you caused.'

'Details,' he said, and gestured for you to walk, and fell into step beside you, and you went to the library with Fred Weasley as an escort and tried very hard to think about books.

You thought about him the whole way.

Three: Umbridge Makes a Mistake

Umbridge inspected your Defence class on a Wednesday.

You had been warned it was coming — the whisper network in Hogwarts was efficient in the way of all things that formed in response to something intolerable — and so most of the class had arrived prepared to look precisely as obedient and useless as she wanted them to be.

Fred and George had other ideas.

It started small. A question asked with perfect, polished innocence about whether Ministry-approved theory was consistent with the spells used in documented dark wizard encounters. Umbridge had said yes. Fred had said, with an expression of complete sincerity, that he'd read something suggesting otherwise and could she clarify. Umbridge had clarified. George had asked a follow-up question. Fred had countered with a point. The whole thing had the quality of watching two cats calmly bat a vase toward the edge of a table, and Umbridge's smile was getting tighter by the minute, and the rest of the class had gone completely still in the way of people witnessing something that could go badly wrong and finding it impossible to look away.

You were sitting directly in front of Fred, one row up.

He leaned forward and said, barely a breath, 'she's going to snap in about three questions.'

'Two,' you murmured back, without turning around.

'Bet?'

'What are the stakes?'

'If I win, you have to come to the next DA meeting early and help us test something.'

'That sounds dangerous.'

'Mildly.'

'And if I win?'

A pause. Umbridge was answering George's question through a smile that had become essentially structural.

'Name it,' Fred said.

You thought about it for exactly the length of time it took George to ask the follow-up question.

'You stop stealing my phrases,' you said.

'Educational malpractice is my phrase now.'

'It was never your phrase.'

'I've used it fourteen times since September.'

'That's called theft, Fred.'

He made a sound that might have been a laugh converted into a cough at the last second.

Umbridge snapped on George's second follow-up question.

Not loudly — she didn't do loud. But the smile went completely rigid and she said, in the soft deadly voice she used when she'd had enough, that she thought that would be sufficient discussion for the day.

George sat back, satisfied.

Fred leaned forward again. 'Two questions. You win.'

'Thank you.'

'Educational malpractice is still mine though.'

'You agreed to the stakes, Weasley.'

'I agreed to stop stealing your phrases. I'm arguing that prior acquisition counts as possession.'

'That is not how that works.'

'It's how it works in my legal system.'

'You don't have a legal system.'

'I'm working on one,' he said. 'George is the co-founder. We've been drafting since third year.'

You turned around, just slightly, just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

He was grinning. Close — your desk was only a row ahead — and looking at you with that specific attention that made it hard to remember what you'd been going to say.

'Fine,' you said. 'Keep it. It suits you anyway.'

He blinked. Like that wasn't what he'd been expecting.

'Yeah?' he said.

'You're the one actually doing something about it,' you said. 'You've earned the phrase.'

Umbridge dismissed the class. People started moving. Fred didn't, for a second, just looked at you with an expression you couldn't entirely decode.

'Come to the next DA meeting early,' he said.

'I won the bet.'

'I know. Come anyway.'

He left before you could answer, catching up with George in the corridor.

You gathered your things.

You were going to go early. You'd already decided.

You weren't going to tell him that yet.

Four: Early

You went early.

The Room of Requirement was already configured when you arrived — mats on the floor, practice dummies in the corner, the warm light that the room always chose for these evenings. Fred was there, sitting on the floor with components spread out around him in the organised chaos of someone who knew exactly where everything was even when it looked like nothing was in order.

He looked up when you came in and something — quick, genuine, there before he managed anything over it — moved across his face.

'You came,' he said.

'I said I might.'

'You said you weren't going to tell me.'

'I wasn't. I'm here anyway.' You came and sat on the floor across from him, looking at the components. 'What is it?'

'Portable swamp,' he said. 'Prototype. We've been testing the containment.'

'What does it do?'

'Exactly what it sounds like.' He picked up one of the small packages. 'Except it needs to deploy in an enclosed space without flooding the whole building. That's the part we haven't solved yet.'

'Spatial limitation charms,' you said. 'You'd need to set a boundary before deployment.'

He looked at you. 'Go on.'

'The charm would have to go on first, not the device,' you said, thinking it through. 'Otherwise the swamp expands to fill available space. If you set the boundary before — like a ward, basically — the swamp reads the ward as a wall.'

Fred was quiet for a moment. Looking at you with that steady attention. 'That's — yeah. That's the part George and I kept getting stuck on. We kept trying to limit the device itself.'

'You can't control the output, you can only control the space.'

'That's exactly it.' He leaned forward slightly. 'How'd you work that out?'

'Charms theory. Containment principles. We did it in fourth year, Professor Flitwick.'

'I was probably not listening in fourth year Charms.'

'Probably not,' you agreed.

He smiled. It was a different smile from the grin — quieter, less performed, the one she suspected most people didn't get to see.

'You're clever,' he said, simply. Not a compliment designed to get somewhere. Just a thing he'd observed and said.

'I know,' you said, which made him laugh — quick and real, head tilting back slightly — and the Room of Requirement was warm and empty and there were forty minutes until anyone else would arrive and Fred Weasley was laughing and sitting three feet away from you and you thought: there it is. There's the problem, clearly named at last.

You were absolutely gone on him.

You'd been gone on him for weeks.

You had no idea what to do with that.

✦ ✦ ✦

He taught you the containment application. Walked you through the modifications, which meant forty minutes of the two of you on the floor of the Room of Requirement with components between you and his voice doing the thing it did when he was explaining something he cared about — still warm, still Fred, but focused, specific, not performing anything.

At some point the distance had reduced without either of you formally deciding to reduce it. He'd leaned in to show you something and stayed leaned in. You were close enough that you could see the small scar above his left eyebrow that you'd noticed before and never asked about.

'The scar,' you said, before you could stop yourself.

He glanced up. 'What about it?'

'How did you get it?'

'Which story do you want? I have three.'

'The true one.'

He looked at you for a moment. 'Exploding Snap, second year. George dared me to hold the card too long and I held it too long.'

'That's much less dramatic than the options you implied.'

'The other two are better. A dragon features in one. Completely false, but compelling.'

'I'll take the true one,' you said. 'I prefer those.'

He tilted his head. That slight recalibration he did sometimes, like you'd said something that made him reassess something else.

'Most people want the dragon,' he said.

'Most people don't know you well enough to know the truth is better.'

The words sat between you.

You hadn't fully intended them to come out like that — weighted, specific. But they had, and Fred Weasley was looking at you in the warm light of the Room of Requirement and not saying anything, which was, for Fred Weasley, a significant event.

'Is that right,' he said, finally. Not a question.

'I think so,' you said, keeping your voice level.

He looked at you for another moment. Then, slowly, deliberately — giving you every opportunity to move if you wanted to — he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Just that. Nothing more.

Your breath did something it didn't have permission to do.

'I've been trying to work something out,' he said quietly.

'What?'

'Whether you'd mind if I — ' He stopped. His hand had dropped but not far, resting near your knee, not quite touching. 'Whether this is something you'd want.'

'This,' you said.

'Yeah.'

'You're going to have to be more specific than that, Weasley.'

He looked at you. 'No I don't,' he said. 'I think you know exactly what I mean.'

You did.

You'd known what he meant for weeks. Maybe longer.

'I'd want it,' you said.

The smile came back. The quiet one. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

He leaned in —

The door opened.

George walked in, stopped, took in the scene with the rapid assessment of someone who had spent seventeen years reading his twin, and said 'oh' in a tone that contained a truly impressive amount of information.

Fred did not lean back. He just turned his head and looked at George with extraordinary calm.

'You're early,' Fred said.

'You told me to come early,' George said. 'To help test the — ' He looked at the components on the floor. Looked at you. Looked at Fred. 'The portable swamp.'

'We solved the containment problem,' you said.

'Did you.' George was having an extremely good time. It was written all over him. 'Brilliant. The swamp. Solved.'

'George,' Fred said.

'I'll just — ' George gestured vaguely at the other side of the room. 'Go over here. Test some things. Alone.'

'Thank you,' Fred said.

'Take your time,' George said, moving away with magnificent dignity. 'The swamp will keep.'

You looked at Fred.

Fred looked at you.

'Right,' he said, low enough that it didn't carry. 'Where were we.'

'I believe,' you said, equally quiet, 'you were being more specific.'

He laughed — surprised, warm — and this time when he leaned in there was no door opening, and he was specific, and it was — brief, because people were going to start arriving, but entirely, completely enough to confirm everything you'd been not-examining for months.

When he pulled back he was still smiling. The quiet one.

'Educational malpractice,' he said.

'What?'

'Still mine. Just so we're clear.'

You laughed, helpless, and he looked at you laughing the way you'd seen him look at things he liked — openly, without trying to manage it.

'Fine,' you said. 'Keep it.'

'I intend to,' he said. And then, quieter, just for you: 'among other things.'

✦ ✦ ✦

People started arriving ten minutes later.

George, from across the room, caught your eye and gave you a look of such extravagant satisfaction that you had to look at the ceiling to keep a straight face.

Fred pretended to notice nothing. He was extremely bad at it. His ears were red.

Harry started the meeting.

Fred sat next to you. Close. Not touching, because there were people everywhere and this was new and fragile and neither of you had decided what to do with it yet.

But close.

And when you were practicing Shield Charms and he corrected your stance — hands brief and light on your shoulders, adjusting the angle — he said, very quietly, 'better' and his voice was warm and specific and entirely for you and only you.

And when the meeting ended and everyone filed out and George said he'd see Fred upstairs with the manner of someone giving two people space on purpose, Fred turned to you in the emptying room and said:

'Tomorrow. Hogsmeade. Before the others.'

'Is that a question?' you said.

'It's a request.'

'A polite one, even.'

'I'm trying something new.'

You looked at him. Fred Weasley in the warm light, ears still slightly red, looking at you with the most sincere expression you'd seen on him.

'Tomorrow,' you said. 'Before the others.'

His whole face did something wonderful.

'Good,' he said. And then, because he was Fred: 'I'll file that under 'wins'.'

'You have a file for wins?'

'Extensive one.' He held the door open. 'You feature in it more than once.'

You walked through. He fell into step beside you.

The corridor was cold and Umbridge's latest decree was pinned to the board at the end of it and the year was heavy with things that hadn't happened yet.

But Fred Weasley was warm beside you and his shoulder was pressed to yours and you were going to Hogsmeade tomorrow before the others and right now that was enough.

🥺

Bright Mornings With You

Sanemi Shinazugawa X Reader

Modern Au!

Summary: You wake up to your lovely boyfriend smothering you in kisses and cuddles.

Author's Note: Ahh, I missed writing for this man so much! I had some free time, so I figured I'd get through at least one request, since this one wouldn't take too long to write.

The sunlight filtering through your curtains was your first warning that morning had arrived. You shifted slightly in your sheets, trying to sit up, when a heavy arm draped across your waist.

Your gaze shifts over to your boyfriend, who's peacefully sleeping by your side, a striking contrast to what he's like when he's up and awake.

You tried to shift again, but the movement only caused him to tighten his grip on your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"Stay," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, devoid of its usual gruffness, "Just a little longer."

"Sanemi, we should really get up, we've got people coming over later," you whispered, though you were already melting back into his touch.

He didn't say anything; instead, he began to methodically pepper kisses along your shoulder before moving up to your jawline.

They were soft and lingering. When he finally pulled back his soft white hair was a mess, pointing in all directions as he looked at you with soft eyes.

"Let 'em wait." He huffed, pulling you flush against his chest. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Yeah, but we really should get up, it's already 10," you say softly while combing your hands through his hair.

"Tch, we got time, Genya knows better than to show up this early anyway," he huffs, pulling you impossiby closer to him.

The room was still, save for the faint sound of cars passing by outside and the steady rise and fall of Sanemi’s chest against yours. He didn't say anything else, and he didn't need to.

He just hooked a leg over yours, anchoring you in place as if he were afraid you might actually get up and leave the warmth of the blankets.

You felt him exhale a long, heavy breath, the kind he only let out when he was finally, truly relaxed. His hand, calloused and warm, slid from your waist to rest flat against the small of your back, pulling you in until there wasn't a single gap left between you.

"Just stay," he muttered again, his voice cracking slightly, heavy with sleep.

You nodded against his chest, your fingers mindlessly tracing the patterns of his scars. There were no plans yet, no guests to entertain. The sunlight grew brighter, but not enough to convince you to move.

ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

ushijima trying to win you over with his (not-so) elite flirting skills that has the grace of a falling anvil so he could court you. wc: 1.7k, request

the sun was a violent, golden orb in the sky, beating down on the sand with the kind of intensity that usually only existed in ushijima’s serves. it was the sort of heat that made the air wobble and turned the ocean into a giant, shimmering bowl of blue gatorade. for the shiratorizawa boys’ volleyball team, this was ‘team bonding.’ for you, the manager, it was an exercise in preventing a group of elite athletes from devolving into sunburnt toddlers.

ushijima was currently standing over a charcoal grill with the same grim, unwavering focus he used to crush oikawa’s dreams. he was flipping burgers like he was executing a strategic maneuver. his muscles, which seemed to be carved out of the very granite of mount fuji, rippled under his sweat-slicked skin every time he moved the spatula.

“ushijima, if you stare at the meat any harder, it’s going to cook from intimidation alone,” you said, trotting over with a crate of chilled sodas.

Morning of a Day Off

Author: devilllaa_ (tiktok)

you’re my ecstasy when you’re next to me.

timeskip!kuroo tetsurō x f!reader you surprise your long distance bf!kuroo and instantaneously give him a cardiac arrest.

​the thing about kuroo is that he has always been a little bit of a menace. not the ‘i’ll set your house on fire’ kind of menace, but the ‘i will stare at you across a gymnasium until you feel the heat of my gaze through your uniform’ kind.

​when he first saw you at that away game, his brain basically short-circuited into a single, high-frequency hum. you were power-walking across the court with a clipboard, looking like the most beautiful, stressed-out person in miyagi, and he was a goner. he didn’t even try to be cool. well, he tried, but he mostly just ended up leaning against walls in your peripheral vision, looking like a tall, lanky gargoyle who had been struck by lightning.

​he spent the next few months yearning with the intensity of a victorian widow waiting for a ship to return from sea. it was pathetic, really. kenma would be trying to play a boss fight and kuroo would be sighing into his palms, wondering if you liked apple juice or orange juice better. he was gentle about it, though. he never wanted to crowd you. he just wanted to be near you, like a moth circling a very pretty, very confused lamp.