Happy New Year, everyone!!!!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ 🩷I love you all so much!!! I wish you the most amazing 2026!!! Thank you for all the support on my page and on my writings, and I’ll definitely be getting something out this weekend to start off the new year (,,>ヮ<,,)!!!
Hiiii !!!! I'm sorry I haven't interacted in a while but I just wanted to stop by ur blog and ask how you are
Hihi Sage!!! ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵) You’re all good no need to apologize!! Thank you for stopping by!! I’m doing good!!! I’ve just been a little busy, but I’m still writing and working on some requests that have been sitting in my drafts, as well as some other side projects!! (Hopefully I’ll get something out by the end of this week or the beginning of next!) ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Pairing: Atsumu Miya (post-timeskip) x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: The Tokyo night is loud and electric, but it's your quiet spark that catches Atsumu Miya off guard. A missed moment on the dance floor turns into a second chance neither of you expected, one full of teasing glances, electric tension, and a slow-burning connection that doesn't fizzle out when the music stops.
Hey Siri, play author's note.
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10: AND OUR WINNER OF THE POLL VOTEEE!!! Thank you guys for voting!! Anyway, enjoy reading because this was sm fun writing and I might have another poll coming soon SOOO... stay tuned!!( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
Warnings: Atsumu Miya's accent/flirting, drinking and slight suggestive dialogue (if you squint)
The bass pulsed through the Tokyo club like a second heartbeat deep, thrumming, almost primal. It rattled the walls, vibrated through the soles of shoes, crawled up spines, and settled in chests. The air inside was thick with energy fog machines puffing bursts of silver mist, lights slicing the haze in beams of violet, gold, and electric crimson. It was the kind of night Tokyo wore like perfume: thick with heat, charged with mischief, daring you to make questionable choices.
You were in the middle of it all.
Moving to the beat with an effortless sway, you weren't putting on a show for anyone, but maybe that's what made people look. You weren't the loudest or most provocatively dressed, but you were magnetic.
There was something in the curve of your smile, the way your hair caught the light when you turned your head, the confidence that laced your steps.
From above, in the velvet-roped VIP section, Atsumu Miya noticed.
He leaned against the railing in his fitted black dress shirt, sleeves rolled, and a chain catching the club lights. One hand loosely held a lowball glass of whiskey, the ice melting slowly. Normally, he was a livewire in places like this, basking in the spotlight and soaking up attention with easy charm. But tonight, his mind wasn't on the compliments or the free drinks. His gaze had fixed on something else entirely.
You.
He watched as you danced with your friends, laughing without a care for who was watching, and how your body moved with a natural rhythm. You didn't need to do anything more than just be there. And somehow, it had completely thrown him.
"Who the hell is that?" he muttered under his breath.
"Bro, you're whispering like you just saw God," Hinata said as he passed behind him, sipping from a luminous blue drink.
Atsumu ignored the jab, eyes still pinned to you. "She's just—she's unreal."
"Then go talk to her," Hinata said with a grin. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"I will," Atsumu said, squaring his shoulders.
He took the last sip of his whiskey, set the glass down with a soft clink, and descended the stairs like he wasn't a pro athlete used to praise and flashbulbs like he was just a guy, chasing a moment.
Your laugh hit him before he reached you. It cut through the music pure, light, real. He was three steps away. Close enough to see the shimmer on your collarbones, to smell that soft, floral scent that clung to your skin.
Then—chaos.
A group of drunk dancers jostled past, someone bumping his side. He stumbled a step. Your eyes flicked toward the commotion, but you didn't see him. Not really. Your friend shouted something, you leaned in to hear, then spun away, dancing again. Laughing. Gone.
He reached the spot you'd been seconds ago, only to find empty space.
"Damn it," he muttered, jaw clenching.
ꫂ❁
Back upstairs, Hinata nearly spat out his drink laughing. "Tell me that wasn't your big move."
"She didn't hear me," Atsumu growled, pacing.
"You sure she didn't just ghost you in real time?"
"I don't get ignored."
Shion popped in beside Hinata with an arched brow. "You do tonight."
"I'm going back down," Atsumu muttered, brushing past them.
ꫂ❁
At the bar, you leaned against the counter, cheeks warm and hair sticking slightly to the sides of your face. Your skin buzzed not just from dancing, but from the lingering pulse of alcohol and heat.
"Girl," your friend Akari gasped, fanning herself dramatically beside you. "We need to talk."
"Talk about what?"
"The man," she hissed, eyes wide. "Did you not see him trying to walk over to you just now? He was on a mission."
"Tall?" your other friend, Yuna, chimed in. "Blond? Looked like the type to call you 'baby' and get away with it?"
You blinked. "No? I didn't see anyone."
"Oh my god, you so fumbled," Akari groaned. "You just straight-up walked away while he was coming toward you."
"I didn't know anyone was walking toward me!"
"You accidentally curved a hot guy," Yuna said, almost reverent. "He looked like heartbreak in designer sneakers. I almost apologized to him myself."
You laughed, heart doing a funny little skip. "Okay, now I feel bad."
"Do you want redemption?" Akari asked. "Because he's still here. Upstairs. And he's watching you."
Leaning casually against the railing again, hair tousled and shirt a little rumpled. His eyes weren't scanning the room. They were locked on you.
Your breath caught. "Wait. Is that—Atsumu Miya?"
"Yes!" Akari squealed. "I thought he looked familiar! He's with the MSBY Black Jackals!"
"I ignored a national athlete?" you said, scandalized. "Oh my god."
"You didn't ignore him. You just… didn't see him."
"Semantics!" You ran your fingers over the rim of your glass, trying not to freak out. "What do I do now?"
"Go get a drink."
"I have a drink."
"Then get courage."
ꫂ❁
He watched you make your way to the bar again, this time slower, more deliberate. You were scanning, checking for something—or someone.
Atsumu took his chance.
He stepped through the crowd again, zeroing in with laser focus. This time, he made it to your side before you could disappear again.
You turned, and your eyes met.
Your breath hitched.
"Left me hangin' earlier," he said, mouth tilted in a crooked grin. His Kansai accent wrapped around each word like heat. "Thought ya were dodgin' me."
You blinked. "You were trying to talk to me?"
He chuckled. "Kinda hard with the music blarin' and ya dancing like a damn daydream."
You laughed, a little shy, a little stunned. "Guess I fumbled."
"A little," he teased. "But I'm willing to let ya redeem yourself."
"Oh yeah?" you asked, leaning on the bar with a raised brow. "And how do I do that?"
"Start with letting me buy ya a drink."
You held up your glass. "Already covered."
"Then let me stand here and be charmed."
You smirked. "You're Atsumu Miya."
"Guilty."
"Famous for killer serves… and shameless flirting."
He grinned wider. "Only with people worth flirting with."
The bartender handed you a new tequila soda on the house, courtesy of the very flirt in question. You clinked your glass to his without breaking eye contact.
"Thanks," you said, voice softer now.
"You're welcome, baby."
ꫂ❁
Conversation flowed easily after that, quick-witted, playful. He told you about the team, about Bokuto's chaotic energy, about Hinata's eternal sunshine. You told him what you did, made fun of his old bleach-blond photos, and let your hand rest just a little too close to his.
The music pulsed in the background, but the moment was slower. Focused. His attention didn't wander, not once.
You leaned in. "So, what was your pickup line earlier?"
He laughed, genuinely. "I was gonna say ya looked dangerous in that dress."
You raised a brow. "That's it?"
"Better delivery when I'm not gettin' body-checked."
You smiled. "Well. I'm here now."
"Yeah. You are."
The air between you buzzed, something hot and weighty threading into the space. His hand brushed yours, light, casual, but intentional. He didn't pull away.
He asked, "Ya always give second chances this easily?"
"Only to guys with bad luck and good cheekbones."
He leaned in, voice low. "You're gonna ruin me, baby."
You felt your heart skip, your mouth parting slightly. "Maybe."
You traced the rim of the glass that held your tequila soda before telling him your name. Suddenly, the sound of your name on his tongue made his eyes widen at how natural it felt to him, as if he had known you his whole life when in reality, he had just met you.
He then repeated your name back to you, making you nod, and he quickly took that as his green light.
"Dance with me," he said, holding out a hand.
You hesitated just long enough for him to smirk, then slipped your hand into his.
He pulled you into the crowd, the music swallowing you both. The dance changed. No longer chaotic but deliberate. He didn't touch you in a crude way.
No, he moved like he understood rhythm and tension. His hand found your waist, his other holding yours loosely, like he was testing the waters.
Your bodies aligned.
You moved together.
The beat thudded, sweat beaded along your neck, and his touch was a brand, every inch of space between you a livewire. His forehead dropped toward yours, not touching, but close, and your breath mingled.
You said, just above a whisper, "Not bad for a redemption arc."
His mouth ghosted the shell of your ear. "Babe, we're just gettin' started."
ꫂ❁
You didn't know how long you were dancing, minutes, maybe hours, but time warped in that moment, bending around the warmth of his hand on your waist and the quiet storm behind his eyes. Every touch lingered. Every glance, every half-smile, it all felt like a promise being whispered under the noise.
Eventually, the music shifted, turning from bass-heavy anthems to slower, sultrier rhythms. The lights dimmed into an amber and violet hue. He leaned down, his breath brushing your cheek as he said, "Wanna get out of here?"
You pulled back, searching his face. Not cocky. Not impatient. Just curious. And maybe… a little nervous.
"Where?" you asked.
He grinned. "Anywhere quieter. Before I lose my mind with ya this close and the music too damn loud."
Your stomach fluttered. "You sure that's safe? You hardly know me."
"I'm hopin' to change that."
Something about the way he said it, low, sincere, stripped of bravado, made it impossible to say no.
ꫂ❁
Outside, the Tokyo night was velvet dark and glistening. The heat from earlier had cooled slightly, replaced by the breeze that rustled neon signs and made your hair dance around your shoulders. The club's thrum faded behind you as Atsumu held the door open, his hand settling briefly on the small of your back as you passed through.
"Where to?" you asked, hugging your arms gently.
He glanced up the street, then looked back at you. "I know a place."
He didn't offer more. Just reached for your hand slowly, patiently, letting you be the one to close the gap. You did.
ꫂ❁
It wasn't far, just a small walk past a 24-hour convenience store, around a quiet corner where the buildings narrowed. A little café sat glowing softly, warm light leaking from the windows like it was stitched from memory. It was technically closed, but Atsumu knocked twice at the side door.
You blinked. "You have café connections?"
He smirked. "Somethin' like that."
The door opened. A sleepy guy in a beanie peered out, recognized Atsumu, and rolled his eyes with mock irritation. "You owe me."
"Put it on my tab."
ꫂ❁
Minutes later, you were tucked inside a corner booth. The owner gave you tea, real tea, not bagged, the kind that smelled like jasmine and spice and felt like sinking into a warm bath. There were no other customers, just the quiet hum of a ceiling fan and a faint jazz tune playing in the background.
Atsumu sat across from you, his long legs bumping yours beneath the table. Not intentionally. Or maybe it was.
"This is… weirdly cozy," you murmured.
"I figured we needed a reset."
You sipped your tea. "Reset from what?"
He leaned back, studying you. "From flirtin' in a place where I couldn't hear your voice."
Your face heated. "Oh."
He smiled, softer now. "Don't go quiet on me now. You've got this spark to ya, I can see it. It's been killin' me all night."
"I'm just… not used to this," you admitted. "The attention. The banter. You."
His brow furrowed. "What about me?"
"You're… Atsumu Miya."
"And you're you," he said plainly. "That's what got me. I watched ya in that club, and ya weren't tryna impress anyone. You weren't performing. You were just there. Lit up the whole place without even tryin'."
You didn't know what to say to that. So instead, you sipped your tea, hoping the warmth would slow the rush in your chest.
Then, softer, "You don't talk like I expected."
He tilted his head. "What'd ya expect?"
"Cocky. Loud. Full of yourself."
He grinned. "I can be."
"I've seen the clips."
"But not when I'm talkin' to someone I really want to impress."
That earned him a smile from you, small but real. The tension between you shifted, softened, and deepened all at once.
ꫂ❁
Later, when the tea cups were empty and your shoes were dangling from your fingertips as you walked barefoot beside him down the quiet sidewalk, you said, "So what now?"
"Now," he said, "I'll walk ya to your train. Or your place. Or we keep walkin' 'til the sun comes up. Whatever you'll let me do."
You laughed. "What if I say I don't want this night to end yet?"
His hand brushed yours again. Then, after a second, he slid his fingers between yours slowly and tentatively, like he wasn't sure you'd let him.
You did.
He exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Thank god."
You walked like that for blocks, just you and him and the sleeping city. The buzz of the club had faded, replaced with something heavier. Not bad... just… charged. Every time your shoulder brushed his, your hand tightened a little in his.
You stopped at a bridge where the city lights shimmered in the water below. Leaning against the railing, you looked out over the edge, hair swaying with the breeze.
He stood beside you. Not touching. Not speaking.
Then you said, quietly, "Do you always fall this fast?"
He paused. "Not usually."
"But tonight?"
"Tonight's different."
You looked at him.
The air between you felt suspended, thick with all the things you weren't sure how to say. His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
You whispered, "Are you going to kiss me, or just stare like that all night?"
He laughed, a quiet breath of disbelief. "You beat me to it."
And then his lips were on yours.
Soft. Slow. Intentional.
He kissed like he moved athletically, confidently, but with more care than you expected. His hand rose to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, holding him like he might disappear if you didn't.
The kiss deepened. His other arm slid around your waist, pulling you in. Your chest pressed to his, heartbeat to heartbeat. You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly your back was against the railing and his hands were holding you there, his mouth tugging sighs from your throat.
ꫂ❁
You broke apart just enough to breathe.
He pressed his forehead to yours.
"Ya okay?" he asked, voice roughened.
"More than."
"You're… kinda everything, y'know that?"
You let out a shaky breath. "We just met."
"Still true."
You laughed. "You're dangerous."
"Only for you," he whispered.
You rolled your eyes. "God, you're so dramatic."
"Yeah, but I meant it."
You rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. "I don't usually do this."
"Me neither."
"You're lying."
"Okay, maybe a little," he said with a grin. "But this? You? Feels different."
And you felt it too. Like the night had cracked open something neither of you had expected. Like you were suddenly standing on the edge of something real.
He didn't rush it. Just held your hand the whole walk home, brushed hair from your face when the wind caught it, kissed your temple when you reached your door.
No promises.
But maybe the start of one.
(lmk if you want to be added to the taglist to be notified when I post and whether or not you wanna be tagged for all fandoms that I write for or specific ones!!)
SOO YOU GUYS VOTED!! Thank you so much for voting between Giyuu Tomioka, Atsumu Miya, Kenyu Yukimiya, and Aki Hayakawa!! Our winner is Atsumu Miya!! ( ˃` ⩌ ´˂ ) 🩷 I’ll start working on that oneshot now, so I can then start editing it and hopefully it’ll be out sometime this week or weekend! <33 Lmk if you’d like to be tagged for when it comes out!! AND AGAIN, THANK YOU SO SO SOOO MUCH for all the support on the Sae oneshot!!! I honestly didn’t expect it to get the attention it has (,,>﹏<,,)
HIHI GUYS I have a few ideas for some ONESHOTS (I have no self-control, I fear) SOOO I’ll make a poll and you guys can VOTE between Giyuu Tomioka, Atsumu Miya, Kenyu Yukimiya, OR an Aki Hayakawa oneshot!! ( ˃` ⩌ ´˂ ) ALSO TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON THE SAE ONESHOT ACTUALLY INSANE I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT AT ALL (╥﹏╥) 🩷
Summary: After two years together, your best friend can’t believe you and Sae haven’t slept together. But between scars from a toxic past relationship and your own fears, intimacy feels terrifying. Luckily, Sae’s patience proves that love doesn’t need to be rushed—it just needs trust.
Hey Siri, play author's note.
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10: wrote this on a whim at three am last night, so apologize if it sucks ass °ᜊ° I did edit it heavily today from last night, so I hope you enjoy reading my first Blue Lock oneshot ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
Warnings: mentions of past emotional manipulation/abuse, toxic past relationship, discussions of sex/intimacy, mild angst, slight sexual content (shower scene), language.
The café's warm hum of conversation and clinking cups was abruptly interrupted.
"Wait, hold up!!! You two have never had sex?!" Your friend blurted out, loud enough to make some heads from others in the cafe turn. The statement hung in the air like a firecracker, causing you to choke on your drink and splutter.
You froze as your face burned hotter than the coffee that you just spat out, wiping your mouth hastily with a napkin as your friend's exclamation was loud enough to make nearby tables turn in interest.
"I mean... we've only been dating for two years, so... no?" You shifted awkwardly in your seat as your friend's faces said everything that they weren't saying.
"Two years?" Your friend repeated, equal parts incredulous and amused. "What have you been doing? Holding hands and Sharing playlists?"
You groaned, burying their face in their hands. "Rina... Can we please not make this into a discussion?!" But it was too late. Rina leaned forward, a mischievous grin plastered across her face, clearly relishing the moment.
"No judgment, but... Sae Itoshi? The Sae Itoshi? That man looks like he was sculpted by the gods just to make people thirsty. Have you seen his jawline? His shoulders? The man's basically sex on legs! And you've... what? High-fived him goodnight?"
Your eyebrows raised at her comment, pulling your hands back enough to shoot her a withering glare. "First of all, rude. Second, no, we don't high-five. And third, what Sae and I do, or don't do, is none of your business."
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Rina said, waving a hand dismissively. "But come on, what's the deal? You're not... You know, not attracted to him, are you?"
A sharp exhale soon escaped you, before dragging your hands down your thighs. "Of course, I'm attracted to him! He's gorgeous, obviously. But can we please drop it? It's not like I haven't thought about it."
"Oh, you thought about it?" Rina's grin widened, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. "Let me guess, he's too perfect for you to handle?"
You flushed, feeling your own patience stretch thinner with Rina's insistence. "It's not like that. I'm just... taking things slow, okay? We've talked about it. We've made out, sure, but we're just... taking our time."
The table erupted with Rina's laughter, and even you couldn't help but crack a sheepish smile.
"Alright, alright, point taken, Rina!! You win, but seriously, it's not like there's a timer on these things. Sae and I... we're good."
The truth was that you had thought about it a lot. Sae Itoshi was stunning, and when he kissed you, it was like being swept away in a tidal wave of emotions. But every time the topic of sex came up, you found yourself clamping up, deflecting, or conveniently changing the subject. And you knew why, even if you didn't want to admit it.
It wasn't that you didn't trust him; you did. Sae, to his credit, had been nothing but patient. He'd brought it up a few times gently, his unreadable expression always hiding whatever thoughts he kept behind that cool facade. He'd said things like, "Whenever you're ready, just let me know," or "We can take our time; no pressure."
Yet every time, you had dodged the conversation. Despite the tension that lingered in the air every time, your guys' relationship felt rock-solid. There was no pressure, no ultimatums, no resentment. Sae would shrug, kiss you on the forehead, and let it go.
It was all fine... until Rina had to bring it up unprovoked.
"Look," You finally said, rubbing your temples. "We've talked about it, okay? We're just... figuring things out." Rina raised an eyebrow.
"Figuring things out? Two years in, and you're still figuring things out? That's not slow, babe. That's stuck in neutral."
"Honestly, what's the rush?" You countered, trying to hide your own discomfort behind a forced nonchalance. "It's not like there's a deadline on this or anything."
"Well, there is a deadline," Rina said, a teasing edge to her voice. "Eventually, Sae's going to want more than just forehead kisses and handholding, you know. He's a man with needs."
You groaned softly, trying not to draw any more attention to yourselves than Rina had already drawn. "Come on..."
"Oh, trust me," Rina said, leaning back with a knowing smirk. "Sae's probably been dropping hints for months. But don't be too surprised if those hints get more... specific soon. Like, say, a certain pair of boxers he 'accidentally' leaves on the floor when you stay over." Your face unwillingly flushed a deeper shade of red.
"Oh, God, not the boxers."
Rina winked. "What do you think? You two are dating already. For two years also! Don't make him wait forever, or he might start narrating his feelings a little more directly."
A sarcastic laugh left you. "Right, like that'll work. I can barely get him to admit he likes me more than just a friend, and as a girlfriend, let alone anything else." Rina just grinned. "Uh huh.. He knows you well, so I bet when you are ready. You'll be the one holding back."
"Maybe." You sighed, staring down at the table. "But it's not just that. I look, it's complicated. He's patient with me, and that means a lot. But I don't know how to handle this whole 'next step' thing. It's... scary. I think he feels it, too."
Rina's expression softened, leaning forward in a rare moment of seriousness. "It's not easy, I know. But if you really trust him, if you love him, you don't need to rush, right? Sae isn't going anywhere, and you don't have to be ready now. But don't close yourself off from him either."
Rina's gaze soon met your own, the weight of her words sinking in.
You had a lot to figure out, and maybe it wasn't about rushing or taking too long. Maybe it was just about trusting Sae enough to let him in, to finally let go of whatever walls you had built around yourself. You sighed again, rubbing the back of your neck.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just scared."
"Scared of what?" Rina asked softly.
"Scared of what'll happen when I let him in all the way," You admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of how much I might need him."
Rina nodded a quiet understanding in her eyes. "That's normal. But if he's the one, you won't have to be afraid of that. You'll figure it out. You're not in this alone." You looked over at Rina and finally smiled, a real smile this time, as they felt a bit of the weight lift from their shoulders.
"Thanks. You always know what to say."
"Anytime," Rina replied, grinning again. "Now, don't take too long to figure it out, alright? Sae's going to start giving you very specific hints sooner than you think." You rolled your eyes once again, but inside, you did feel a little lighter. You had time, sure. But maybe it was time to start letting Sae's specific hints lead you both exactly where you needed to go.
ꫂ❁
The thing that you couldn't shake was the scar that lingered from your past relationship. That relationship, although it had seemed perfect at first, had left you shaken to your core.
Ryota was a guy who had been charming, attentive, and seemingly perfect at first until his true nature started showing. The constant pressure, the subtle manipulations, the way Ryota twisted every word you'd ever said until you left shattered and were the one apologizing for things that weren't your fault. You had never felt safe, only trapped, cornered, and always questioning yourself.
One night, after a heated argument, Ryota had demanded answers. "What do you mean you're not ready?" he asked, his voice sharp and accusing as he stood in their small apartment. You had fidgeted with your hoodie, avoiding his gaze.
"I just... I'm not there yet, okay? I need more time."
"Time?" Ryota had repeated, his frustration spilling over. "We've been together for fucking six months!! How much more time do you need? A year? Two? Are you even attracted to me?" The accusation had stung like a slap to the face. The more you tried to speak, but no words came, the more Ryota's anger grew by the second.
"I mean, seriously," Ryota had continued, pacing. "Do you even want this relationship to work? Because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it."
You swallowed, feeling the lump in your throat as the air grew thick with tension. "That's not fair," you muttered, barely above a whisper, and Ryota had whipped around so fast his eyes locked onto you, burning with something dark.
"Not fair?" Ryota had scoffed, glaring. "What's not fair is me putting all this effort into us and getting nothing in return. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like I'm some sort of fucking idiot for sticking around if you were never going to have sex with me in the first place."
You had tried to hold it together, but it had felt like every word from Ryota was twisting the knife deeper. In the end, you had just apologized just to stop the fight, even when you knew deep down, even if you didn't want to admit it.
You had done nothing wrong.
ꫂ❁
That night, sitting in the bedroom, the tears had flowed freely. It wasn't until then that you realized something crucial: you hadn't ever felt safe with Ryota. He had been manipulative, forcing you to question your own boundaries and worth. The relationship had ended soon after, but the scars remained. And that's why you had walls around your heart now. Because being vulnerable, letting someone in, meant potentially being hurt all over again.
But Sae wasn't Ryota. He had never pressured you, never tried to manipulate you. He was patient, understanding, and never once made you feel less than. Yet, that fear of repeating the past, of giving in and losing control, still lingered.
ꫂ❁
A while back, when you and Sae were just a few months into the relationship, it had been a quiet evening at Sae's penthouse. The kind of evening that felt timeless, where the world outside didn't matter, and it was just the two of you in a little bubble of comfort. The soft glow of the TV cast shadows across the room as an action movie played in the background, though neither of you had seemed particularly invested in the plot.
You were curled up next to Sae, your head resting against his shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne lulling you into a state of near sleep. Sae's steady heartbeat under your ear was more soothing than the movie, and you found yourself fighting to keep your eyes open.
Sae shifted slightly, adjusting his position. The movement stirred you from their half-drowsy state, and before you could fully process it, his hand was gently cupping your cheek. The unexpected touch made you glance up slightly, only to find Sae's teal eyes locked onto yours. His expression was calm, yet there was a quiet intensity behind his gaze that made your breath hitch.
He leaned down slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. When you didn't, his lips brushed yours in a kiss that was soft yet deliberate, each movement precise in the way that Sae always was. It wasn't hurried or overly passionate, it was simply them. Yet, somehow, it made your heart race as if it were the first time all over again.
But then his hand moved, trailing down their side and brushing against your thigh with a touch that lingered just a little longer than usual. His fingers ghosted upward, the motion slow and tentative, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you. Your body quickly stiffened instinctively, your heart thudding in your chest for an entirely different reason.
"Sae," you murmured, breaking the kiss and pulling back just enough to put a sliver of space between you and him.
His hand froze immediately before retreating as if burned. "Too much?" he asked, his voice calm, but you could hear the faint note of concern threaded through it.
You nodded hesitantly, cheeks warming in a mix of embarrassment and guilt. "Yeah... I think so. I'm sorry. I just don't think I'm ready for that yet."
For a moment, Sae said nothing, his eyes studying you with an unreadable expression. Your stomach twisted with apprehension, bracing itself for disappointment or frustration just like with Ryota. But then Sae gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his hand moving back to rest against his own leg.
"You don't have to apologize," he said quietly, his tone as steady as ever. "It's not a big deal."
But to you, it was a big deal. You had been so sure this would be the moment where he grew impatient or upset, yet Sae had proven you wrong. He hadn't pushed or argued, hadn't even so much as sighed in frustration. Instead, he leaned back, giving you the space needed without a single complaint.
ꫂ❁
The room was quiet for a moment, the faint sound of explosions from the movie filling the space.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Sae slipped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a quiet, "Come here."
You blinked at him in surprise. "You're not upset?"
He glanced at you, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Why would I be? It's not like you said no to watching the rest of the movie with me." His voice was teasing, but there was warmth in his eyes that reassured you more than words ever could.
Despite the memories of Ryota that flooded in, you smiled, chest tight with relief and something softer you couldn't quite name. "Okay, then," you murmured, leaning into him and letting his warmth envelop them once more.
Sae's hand brushed lightly against your arm, a quiet, reassuring gesture that carried more meaning than anything he could have said. "Let me know when you're ready," he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. "For anything. I'll wait."
You glanced up at him again, heart swelling at the quiet sincerity in his words. "You're really something, you know that?"
He chuckled softly at your comment, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your temple. "Took you this long to figure it out?"
It was a quiet moment, filled with nothing but the hum of the TV and the steady rhythm of their hearts. But for you, it felt like everything. because Sae was not like Ryota.
ꫂ❁
Now, sitting in Sae's penthouse once again, you found yourself lost in the quiet rhythm of the space. Your mind wandered to the first night you had stayed over, how the warmth of Sae's presence seemed to melt away at your nerves. It wasn't anything grand he'd done, just the subtle way he carried himself: calm, steady, and utterly reassuring.
That memory replayed on a loop as you waited for him to come home, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the couch.
The sound of the door unlocking broke through your wandering thoughts, and your head quickly turned toward it. Sae stepped in with his usual composed demeanor, his teal eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His expression softened ever so slightly, a rare warmth flickering across his features.
"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth and low as he set his bag down by the door.
"Hi," you replied, voice tinged with an unfamiliar nervousness you hadn't expected.
Sae crossed the room effortlessly, the sound of his footsteps steady and comforting. When he reached you, he leaned down, pressing a simple kiss to your lips. His lips lingered just long enough to send a flutter through your chest, leaving you momentarily breathless. "Have you eaten?" he asked, his tone casual but thoughtful.
You nodded, sitting up a little straighter. "Yeah, I did. What about you?"
"I'm fine," Sae said simply before heading into the kitchen. His absence left the room feeling emptier than you wanted to admit, gaze trailing after him as nerves churned in their stomach.
When he returned a few minutes later, a glass of water in hand, you decided to break the silence. "Can I ask you something?"
Sae paused mid-sip, his sharp eyes locking onto you. "What is it?"
You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. "Are you... mad that we haven't had sex?"
The question hit the air like a sudden gust, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of surprise disrupt Sae's usual calm. He stopped, setting the glass down with measured care before sitting beside you. His teal eyes studied you, unreadable for a moment before softening. "That's... new," he said, his tone even but tinged with curiosity.
"I.. I just-" Your faltered, eyes falling to look at anything but him. "I don't want you to ever feel like I'm holding you back or like you'd be happier with someone else."
Sae let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward slightly. "You idiot," he began, his voice steady but laced with that rare gentleness and affection that he only held for you, "I don't feel held back, and I've never thought about being with anyone else."
"But-"
"No," he interrupted softly, his hands reaching up to cradle your face, thumbs rubbing back and forth against your cheeks. The gesture was featherlight, yet it sent a comforting warmth coursing through you. "If you're not ready, that's okay. We'll get there when we get there. There's no rush."
A lump formed in your throat, emotions quickly threatening to spill over. "You're too patient," you muttered, trying to inject a playful tone into your words.
"And you overthink too much," Sae shot back, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips before letting your face go from his gentle grasp.
"Well, someone has to," You retorted, your cheeks heating from where his hands were only moments ago.
Sae now leaned forward his back now rested up against the couch sitting comfortably, his presence as steady as ever. "We're fine," he said simply, with such quiet confidence that it left no room for doubt.
ꫂ❁
Hours passed in easy companionship as they watched a movie Sae had reluctantly chosen. The silence between you two was comfortable, broken only by the occasional comment or laugh. But just as the credits began to roll, Sae broke the peace in his usual, straightforward way.
"That movie was boring," he said, standing up and stretching lazily. "I'm going to take a shower."
Your heart raced as an idea popped into your head unbidden. Remembering Rina's comments, you had that rash idea and decided to act upon it before you could change your mind; the words spilled out.
"Do you... Mind if I join you?"
The question hung in the air, the weight of it making your palms clammy. For a moment, Sae's composure faltered. His hand, mid-stretch, stilled, and his teal eyes flicked back to you with a mix of surprise and intrigue.
"If that's what you want," he said after a pause, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of curiosity. The corner of his lips curved into a subtle smile. "Come on."
You followed him, your heart felt like it was pounding so loudly you were almost sure Sae could hear it. As you stepped closer to the bathroom, you caught the faintest glint of something playful in Sae's expression, teasing spark hidden behind his usual calm.
Sae glanced back at you, his voice dropping an octave. "You're not going to back out now, are you?"
The slight challenge in his tone sent a thrill down your spine, your breath shaky as you shook your head. "I'm not backing out."
His smirk deepened as he opened the door.
"Good."
ꫂ❁
The warm cascade of the shower filled the room with steam, the heat misting against the glass as droplets trailed lazily down the walls. Both of you and Sae's discarded clothes lay forgotten on the tiled floor, a testament to the vulnerability you and he were stepping into together.
For you, this was uncharted territory. Every time Sae's hands brushed against your skin, gentle yet intentional, you flinched, not from fear, but from the novelty of it all. It wasn't just his touch; it was the sheer intimacy, the feeling of letting someone in for the first time.
Sae noticed, his sharp teal eyes softening as he took in your nervous yet eager demeanor. He placed his hands gently on your hips, his thumbs drawing soothing circles against your damp skin. You let out a shaky breath, their defenses slowly crumbling under the warmth of his presence. Sae leaned closer, his voice a low murmur against the sound of the water.
"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his tone threaded with genuine concern. He had never been the type to rush, not with something as delicate as this. Your eyes met his own gaze hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm okay... I just—" you paused, cheeks flushing from both the heat and their words. "I want more."
Sae blinked, tilting his head slightly. His brows furrowed in confusion, but his lips quirked upward in a faint, curious smile.
"More of what?" he pressed gently, his tone teasing yet laced with sincerity. You didn't answer right away.
Instead, you reached up, threading your fingers through his damp, dark crimson hair. Sae's breath hitched at the unexpected intimacy, his composure faltering for just a second as your touch softened into something reverent.
"You," you breathed, so softly it was as though you feared the words themselves would shatter the fragile bubble of this moment.
For a brief moment, Sae froze the words echoing in his mind.
You.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry despite the humidity around you both.
Had he heard that right?
"Say that again," he murmured, his voice barely audible. You tilted your head, a teasing glint flickering through your nervous expression.
"Say what again?" you replied innocently, though the corner of your lips twitched, betraying your own attempt to downplay the intensity of the moment.
"Don't play coy with me," Sae whispered, his voice dropping an octave. There was a quiet desperation there, something raw and unpolished that surprised even him.
"Please, baby... Say it again for me." You hesitated, hands falling from his hair as you quickly averted his gaze, suddenly shy. You began to pick at the skin around their nails, a nervous habit Sae had noticed early on. But Sae wasn't about to let you retreat now, not when you were so close to breaking out of that shell.
"You, Sae... I want you," You finally admitted, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to make the air feel heavier between him and you. The world seemed to pause at that moment. Sae's eyes bore into your face, not daring to look anywhere below it, his teal eyes swirling with something indescribable. He took a small step closer, closing the already minimal space between the two of you.
"Look at me," he said softly, his tone both a request and a command. You hesitated; your gaze fixed firmly on the droplets of water cascading over his chest.
"Please," Sae repeated, this time with more weight. There was no anger, only a quiet urgency and begging. "Look at me."
When you still didn't meet his eyes, Sae's patience slipped, though his movements were far from forceful. Gently, he cupped your face in his hands just as he had done earlier, tilting your head upward until your eyes finally locked with his. The vulnerability in your gaze struck something deep within Sae, and for once, he let himself be unguarded.
Without a word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as tender as it was fervent. It wasn't rushed or desperate; it was deliberate, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give you.
You melted into him, your initial tension dissolving as your hands quickly found their way back to his dark, crimson hair, now becoming entangled as you tugged against the hair on his scalp. Sae let out a soft moan against your mouth, his body pressing more into yours, making you crave more of his touch.
When you guys finally pulled apart, both breathless, Sae rested his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your face like he couldn't bear to let go. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that. You're all I've ever wanted, the life I didn't know I wanted," he murmured in admission, voice barely audible above the water that was still falling, as he pressed his face against your neck, quickly pressing hungry open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck filled with patience, love, and desire.
You blinked sharply not because of his actions but because of his words.
Had he actually just admitted that?
Your cheeks flushed when you felt his hand go lower to grab your ass, giving it a soft yet firm squeeze, but your eyes were shining with emotions you hadn't dared to feel before.
For the first time, you hadn't felt the need to shield yourself, to keep your guard up. With Sae, it felt safe to let go because he was also the life you didn't know you wanted, and now you wanted more.
(lmk if you want to be added to the taglist to be notified when I post and whether or not you wanna be tagged for all fandoms that I write for or specific ones!!)
Y’all DONT be mad I kinda strayed away and ended up writing a Sae Itoshi fanfic on a whim last night at three AM… it’ll be out sometime tomorrow (╥﹏╥) I fear I have no self-control (I had an idea and just ran with it (,,>﹏<,,)
I’m still working on your guys’ requests rn (╥﹏╥) (my bad, I keep changing stuff and I can’t decide if I should fix a sentence or just leave it). Sooooooo!!! I’ve got two filler posts ready (they have been rotting in my drafts ready to be posted) so my account doesn’t go ghost on y’all 💔 Do you guys want an Atsumu (Haikyuu) timeskip oneshot or a Giyu (Demon Slayer) oneshot in the mean time? 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
HIIIII!!!!! :3 IT'S BEEN DECADES I CAN FINALLY SHARE THIS REQ WITH UUUUUU
so um can you do Ivan,Till,and Luka x gn!reader who's a yandere headcannons+ it takes place in Anakt Garden but close to when ALNST is gonna start
(this last part is optional so if you feel uncomfortable including it then js ignore this part ofc but Maybe just maybeeeee reader does sh and uses that to make their lover stay with them? JUST A MAYBE OFC!!!!) and as always with my reqs if you don't feel comfortable answering it then don't answer/write it PLEASE I DON'T WANT YOU WRITING ANYTHING THAT CROSSES UR BOUNDARIES I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH!!!! also ur pfp is so cute<3 sorry for this being so long I yap a lot;3
ALNST boys with Yandere Reader- Headcanons (DARK CONTENT)
Pairings: Till ! Ivan ! Luka x Gender Neutral Reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Summary: In ANAKT Garden, love didn't need to be pure. It just needed to last.
Hey Siri, play author's note.
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10: Hi sage!!! I lowkey got carried away writing this, but I hope you enjoy this, and thank you for requesting. I don't mind writing sh so I tried to incorporate it as best as I could, first time writing something with it, and so sorry for the wait!! No worries, this wasn't too long at all, I'm a yapper too!! ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ Also ty!! I love NANA!!!
Warnings: obsessive/manipulative behavior, unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamics, mutual toxicity, slight stockholm if you squint, depending on reader, slight love bombing, yandere/yandere undertones (reader), guilt tripping, and self-harm mentions and self-harm threats.
TILL:
The way you guys met
• You and Till likely bonded through music or art, both of you escaping the oppressive weight of the Garden through creation, making something real in a garden of fake trees and breeze. You didn't talk much at first; you just watched him, like how a hawk watched its prey, you noticed the way his hands trembled when he played, the small frown when he messed up a chord.
• What began as quiet admiration became fixation. You saw the way others looked at him, Urak's "project," Ivan's "friend," Luka's "rival." You hated that word rival. Till wasn't anyone's rival. He was yours.
• The first time you called him that, softly, Mine, he'd laughed nervously. Now he doesn't laugh at all when you say it, he just tenses up.
ꫂ❁
His view of you
• Till doesn't recognize obsession for what it is at least not right away that is. He's used to people controlling him, to affection being conditional. At first, your clinginess feels like safety; your constant attention feels like care.
• He grows dependent on you quickly. You're the only person who doesn't make him perform to earn affection. You don't demand songs or sketches; you just watch, and somehow that's worse because as easily you give that attention and affection to him it could easily be gone before he could blink.
• He doesn't realize how much he's shaped his days around you until he tries to leave for an hour and you threaten that you'll harm yourself if he leaves you alone and he feels guilty because he would never want anything to help you so he reluctantly stays.
• When you start to manipulate him emotionally and not just physically— pretending you're hurt when he doesn't answer right away, quietly implying you'll fall apart if he distances himself — he knows it's wrong. But he can't bring himself to be angry. He's too afraid of losing someone who looks at him like he's more than a broken thing.
ꫂ❁
Your behavior towards him
• You are gentle but strategic every touch deliberate, every sigh calculated to tug at his guilt. You speak softly, almost mournfully, so he never feels attacked just responsible for what you could do.
• "You don't have to stay," you say, "but I don't know what I'll do to myself if you go." You say it like you're confessing weakness as well as leaving him no other choice but to stay with you.
• You never raise your voice with him. You don't need to. The quiet disappointment and seeing the self-inflicted scars on your body break him faster than any anger ever could.
• You always find subtle ways to remind him that you're the only safe one: feeding him, fixing his collar, helping him with his art supplies, small, tender acts that make him feel owned, knowing he could never try and leave without the consequence of you being there to remind him, without ever realizing it.
• You never talk badly about Ivan, Mizi, or anyone to his face; you just suggest things. "She seems distracted lately," or "I think Ivan only wants something from you." You plant doubt like seeds, and he doesn't even realize he's watering them.
ꫂ❁
His reactions when you get possessive
• Till's first instinct is to shrink. When you say, "Don't go with them tonight," he always tries to reason with you, voice small: "They'll notice if I don't."
• He doesn't fight. He just sighs, shoulders curling inward, before eventually giving in. "Fine. Just for tonight." And then it becomes every night.
• When you sulk, look sad, or threaten him with yourself? He panics. You've seen him drop an entire instrument once just to rush over and ask what's wrong. You didn't even have to say anything the silence was enough.
• Sometimes, he'll try to push back, "You can't keep doing this to me." But his voice always falters before the end. He doesn't believe himself enough to finish the sentence.
• When he does get frustrated, his temper tantrum is small — he ignores your calls for him for an hour, locks himself in his "studio." But the guilt eats him alive, and he always comes back first apologizing and begging you to look at him and say you forgive him, even when he isn't the one who is at fault.
ꫂ❁
When you break down (and use it)
• You've learned that your sadness, the way you threaten that you'll hurt yourself? That scares him more than your anger. The minute your voice cracks and your eyes begin to fill with tears, he folds.
• "If I'm too much for you, I'll—I'll stop," you say. He's shaking his head before you finish. "Don't say that. Don't—just don't."
• You might disappear for a few hours to make him panic, only to reappear with a hollow smile and say, "I just needed to clear my head." He clings to you tighter afterward, terrified you'll vanish again, but this time forever.
• You never actually hurt him, but your words twist his fears into loyalty. He starts apologizing for things he didn't do, promising things you never asked for.
• Eventually, you don't have to manipulate him anymore. He starts policing himself — avoiding others, prioritizing you — just to keep you from breaking again.
ꫂ❁
Small details
• Till sketches you constantly, not because you ask, but because he needs to prove to himself you're real. Sometimes, he'll draw you sleeping, curled against him, and he'll hide the page before you wake up.
• He lets you touch his collar, something he never allows anyone else to do, the little light in the middle flickering yellow. The first time you traced your fingers along it, he flinched, then whispered, "Only you."
• You know every song he's ever written, even the ones for Alien Stage — and you know which ones are about you. When he denies it, you just smile. He doesn't argue anymore.
• You keep small tokens from him: a broken guitar pick, a doodle, a lock of gray hair from when he trimmed it. You keep them like relics, tucked away in a small box only you open.
• He performs songs that he writes for you; you're the first person who gets to listen to them. Afterward, he catches you humming the tune of the song. Now, afterward, if he doesn't hear you humming the tune of the song, he loses his normal rhythm, and he starts to overthink everything. To others, it could just look like his nerves are getting the best of him, but you know it's dependency.
ꫂ❁
When he realizes what you are
• The realization comes slow, like water seeping into cracks.
• One night, he stares at you at the softness of your expression when you say, "I missed you," and the darkness in your eyes when he hesitates, something in him clicks.
• He doesn't confront you. He doesn't run. He just sits there quietly, hand gripping yours, and whispers, "Even if it's wrong... it still feels like love."
• And maybe that's what traps him more than anything, the idea that even twisted the love that he can't leave without the consequence of you is better than none.
ꫂ❁
How it looks to others
• Mizi notices first the way Till always sits next to you now, not bothering her anymore, nor looking her way, the way his music has turned softer, lonelier. Ivan teases him about being "housebroken." Till just blushes and says nothing.
• The others in the garden think it's cute. "They're just clingy," they joke.
• Urak probably finds it entertaining watching his pet, once broken, now willingly tethering himself to another chain.
• Only you and Till know the truth: that what binds him isn't fear, or obligation, it's the quiet, painful, and even sometimes bloody version of love that only people in cages can understand.
IVAN:
How you met
• Ivan was never easy to approach. He watched everything, measured everyone. You caught his attention not by speaking but by staying silent when everyone else begged to be noticed.
• You intrigued him because you didn't react the way others did. You didn't flinch under his stare, didn't try to charm him. You simply waited until he started the conversation, and that alone hooked him.
• When he learned you could read people almost as well as he could, he became fascinated. A mirrored mind, manipulative, careful, deliberate.
• From fascination bloomed obsession, but you made sure to stay just one step ahead. By the time Ivan realized you'd wrapped around him emotionally, it was already too late.
ꫂ❁
How Ivan views you
• To Ivan, you're a puzzle that feels dangerous to solve. He knows something isn't right about the way you cling to him, the way you wince when your sleeves get caught in something, but he's too enamored to stop analyzing.
• He doesn't fall in love like others do. He studies love, deconstructs it, then decides whether it's useful to him. You make him abandon that logic.
• He tells himself he's not owned by you, that he's only humoring you. But every time you disappear from a room, his calm facade begins to fracture.
• He both resents and adores how much you affect him. The dependency you cultivate in him makes him furious, but in the end, you're the drug that he's allowed himself to get addicted to.
ꫂ❁
Your behavior toward him
• You never treat Ivan like a subordinate — instead, you praise his intelligence. You call him clever, steady, brilliant. You know he thrives on being acknowledged as the one who understands what no one else can.
• You plant your possessiveness subtly: "You're the only one I can talk to like this," or "No one sees me like you do." To someone as proud and introspective as Ivan, that sounds like worship.
• You rarely scold or beg. Instead, you use guilt. You sigh and say, "You always look away when I need you most." You clench your fingernails into your palms to the point they start to draw blood, staining the ends of your sleeves.
• You let him believe he's still in control, that he's the one choosing you. But you guide every move, your restraint is your weapon.
ꫂ❁
His reaction to your possessiveness
• At first, Ivan laughs it off. He calls you "dramatic," tells you you're "addicted to him." You don't deny it, you just smile.
• He tries to test you. He'll vanish for a few hours to see how you'll react. When you do react, you send a short message that says, "If you're not coming back, I won't bother eating tonight." He feels something between irritation and panic.
• He returns sooner than he meant to. You never mention it. You don't have to; the look in your eyes says it all.
• If you accuse him of being distant, he doesn't apologize; he challenges you. "You think I belong to you?"
You meet his gaze and whisper, "Don't you?"
He hates that his heart skips when you say it.
• Over time, Ivan stops trying to win. He rationalizes staying as "observation," but the truth is simpler: he enjoys the chaos, the pain, and the love you bring.
ꫂ❁
The arguments
• Your fights aren't loud, they're chess matches. He'll dissect your motives; you'll twist his logic until he questions his own conclusions.
• "You're manipulating me," he accuses once.
"If you knew that," you answer softly, "you wouldn't still be here."
He goes silent, because you're right.
• You never lie to him, at least not outright; you just leave gaps for him to fill. Ivan hates uncertainty, and he always fills those spaces in your favor.
• When he walks away, you don't chase him. You wait until the silence gets to him, until the thought of you not waiting becomes unbearable. Then he returns, pretending it was his choice.
ꫂ❁
How he shows devotion
• Ivan's devotion is subtle but absolute. He never says "I love you" — he just proves it.
• He memorizes your routines, your favorite drink, your nervous habits. If someone looks at you too long, he steps closer without a word, and when you start to dig your fingernails into your palms, he stops you before you're able to make yourself bleed.
• When you look tired, he pretends it's nothing, but later you'll find food waiting where he knows you'll find it. He'll never admit it was him.
• If anyone dares to question your relationship, Ivan doesn't argue. He just looks at them until they stop talking.
• He'll tell you, quietly, "I don't do loyalty. I do fixation." And it's the truest thing he's ever said to you.
ꫂ❁
When you get manipulative
• You know Ivan values control, so you use helplessness. When he sees you vulnerable, shaking, teary-eyed, it short-circuits every defense he has.
• You never scream; you simply crumble, whispering, "I know you don't need me. No one ever does."
• He's holding you before you finish the sentence. "Stop that," he says. "You know that's not true."
• You tilt your head and ask softly, "Then prove it."
• He always does. He stays, talks, touches your face like he's grounding himself because he's learned that when you say you're "fine," it means you're thinking of doing something that once you do it, he can't fix it.
ꫂ❁
The subtle threats
• You never threaten Ivan directly. He's too perceptive for that. Instead, you frame your fear as inevitability.
"If you ever get tired of me, I won't chase you," you say. "I'll just... stop existing in your world."
He knows what you're doing, but the thought of you disappearing makes him nauseous.
• Sometimes you'll mutter, "I don't know what I'd do to myself without you." He pretends to roll his eyes, but later that night, he'll end up at your door anyway, as if to make sure you're still breathing.
• You don't realize how deeply you've gotten under his skin until he starts saying things like, "Don't talk like that, it sounds like goodbye."
ꫂ❁
Small details
• Ivan carries one of your belongings everywhere — something small and unassuming: a ring, a page from your notebook. He calls it "habit." It's not.
• When he reads, he leaves the book open on the last line that reminds him of you, as if marking proof of something he won't admit.
• He teases you about your clinginess, but when you ignore him for too long, he gets restless. His usually calm demeanor cracks: he starts pacing.
• You once told him, "If I ever disappeared, would you find me?"
He didn't hesitate. "There's nowhere you could go that I wouldn't."
ꫂ❁
When he realizes what you are
• He figures it out early; he's too smart not to. But instead of recoiling, he leans in.
• "You're dangerous," he says one night, voice calm. "You could ruin me if you wanted."
You smile faintly. "I already have."
• He studies you like the way the aliens study humans, fascinated, aware, addicted.
• The truth is, Ivan likes being consumed, as long as he gets to choose the fire. And with you, he always convinces himself it's his decision.
ꫂ❁
What others notice
• Till calls you both toxic geniuses. He's not wrong.
• Luka finds your relationship "amusing," saying, "You two manipulate each other so well, it's practically romance."
• Unsha likely suspects Ivan's distraction instead when he should be focusing on Alien Stage since it's coming up, but says nothing; he knows better than to interfere in something Ivan has claimed.
• The others in the garden see only your balance, the quiet, poised, strangely intimate dynamic. They don't see the tension beneath: the mutual control, the unspoken promise that neither of you will ever truly let the other go.
LUKA:
How you met
• Luka always maintained a polished exterior, the perfect idol, prince, the flawless performer. You saw the cracks. You noticed the pain behind his pale-yellow eyes, the exhaustion in his hands when he tuned the violin, the subtle way he tried to hide the scars on his body.
• Your first interaction wasn't flashy; it wasn't smiles or teasing. You just spoke to him honestly, quietly remarking on the tension in his posture, the way his breath hitched when he thought no one was watching.
• He was intrigued and slightly wary; few people could do that without flattery or fear. You didn't fear him like the others in the garden did. You didn't fawn over him like the aliens did. You simply noticed him.
• That simple act of acknowledgment, coupled with your intense focus, made him start noticing you everywhere — your small habits, your quiet ways of observing. Before he realized, he was curious about you, then fascinated, then subtly addicted.
ꫂ❁
How Luka views you
• Luka is used to being in control; he manipulates and observes for survival, for gain. You disrupt that. He can't control how you affect him, and it unnerves him.
• He sees you as dangerous emotionally, mentally, and a mind sharp enough to anticipate his moves. But he also sees you as the only person he doesn't have to perform for. With you, he can drop the façade, though carefully.
• Unlike Ivan, Luka doesn't panic immediately at your manipulation. He recognizes it, analyzes it, and even teases you. But deep down, he is fascinated by your obsession. He knows he could leave, but he doesn't want to because no one else makes him feel this seen, this needed, not even Hyuna did that.
• You challenge him in ways others can't. You break through his calculated calm with subtle pressure, and he secretly enjoys it.
ꫂ❁
Your behavior toward him
• You give Luka attention in precisely measured doses. Enough to make him crave more, but not so much that he feels in control.
• You use quiet jealousy instead of confrontation: "I didn't know you'd be practicing with them today. I thought I was the only one who mattered."
• You never yell, never rage, you simply act hurt, or slightly cold, and wait. Luka notices. He always notices.
• You know his routines, his triggers, his habits. You make him feel safe yet subtly dependent on you for emotional validation.
• Small gestures, touching his hair, brushing against his arm, keeping a quiet presence in his practice rooms, make him feel tethered.
ꫂ❁
His reaction to your possessiveness
• Luka responds to your manipulation with a mix of amusement and fascination. He'll tease you about it: "You know, you're ridiculous," he'll say with a smirk.
• But when your words or gestures hint at emotional danger, even subtly, his amusement vanishes instantly. He's perceptive enough to notice even your faintest "threats" of absence or despair.
• He rarely argues. Instead, he acts preemptively: if he senses you might sulk, he adjusts his behavior, stays close, or reassures you quietly.
• Unlike Till, he doesn't panic outwardly. Instead, he internalizes the stakes, and your emotional manipulation feeds a strange kind of obsession in him.
ꫂ❁
Emotional manipulation with Luka
• He knows what you are. He respects it not because he wants to be controlled, but because he's intrigued by the precision and depth of your obsession.
• You never need to threaten violence. You simply imply absence, withdrawal, or heartbreak. "If you leave me to perform alone, don't expect me to be in one piece when I see you next," and Luka simply responds with a quiet chuckle and a dangerous half-smile: "You wouldn't dare."
• But he knows you would. And it excites and unnerves him in equal measure.
• You exploit his need for validation, praising him in public, lingering behind the scenes, touching his arm in subtle ways. He craves it. He admits it to no one.
ꫂ❁
His dependence
• Luka doesn't need anyone... except, now, you. He might claim independence, but you're always in his thoughts, quietly tethering him.
• He starts prioritizing your presence: sitting closer, glancing at you during rehearsals, even adjusting schedules to see you more often.
• The obsession is mutual; he recognizes your control and, in secret, wants it. He thrives on it, even as he pretends he doesn't.
ꫂ❁
Subtle possessive moments
• Luka touches you almost imperceptibly, a brush of a hand, holding your wrist, which makes you flinch at the sting of the marks, a reminder of your actions, but he does these touches for just a second longer than needed.
• He notices every small thing you leave behind, a sweater for when the facility gets cold, a notebook, a pen, and keeps them with him. Not out of sentimentality, but proof of possession.
• He occasionally teases you: "You're absurd," but the word carries warmth, affection, and restraint.
• He may openly mock other contestants who try to flirt with you, but always elegantly, subtly, leaving you flustered.
• Especially with others, Luka's observation is sharp. He notices how they interact with you, and he manipulates subtly to keep your attention balanced and stable, but always leaning toward him.
• He rarely intervenes aggressively. He lets the emotional tension simmer, quietly ensuring you never stray. He maintains composure, but in private, he is completely attuned to you. He'll quietly tell you, "You're always going to be mine," almost as a joke, but you know he means it.
ꫂ❁
Vulnerability moments
• Luka has chronic migraines and heart issues. You use this gently. The smallest hint of concern from you will make him stop, pause, or even cling quietly.
• He trusts you with things he would never reveal to anyone else — pain, memories, insecurities.
• You know exactly how far to push him emotionally: enough to see a crack, never enough to break him.
ꫂ❁
How he realizes your depth
• Luka realizes the extent of your tendencies slowly, through subtle actions: the way you linger in hallways to make sure he returns, the quiet hints of what would happen if he left, the careful balance of tenderness and threat.
• He doesn't recoil. He admits his fascination to himself.
• "You could destroy me," he whispers once in private.
• You smile softly. "I already have by destroying myself."
• He stays, not out of fear, but because no one else can match your intensity or see through him like you do.
ꫂ❁
How others see it
• To outsiders, Luka appears composed, elegant, and occasionally teasing with you. They don't see the depth of mutual obsession.
• The others in the garden notice the small ways he adjusts to your moods, staying behind when you seem fragile, leaning toward you when others approach.
•Everyone is quietly wary, noticing the way Luka sometimes mirrors your tendencies in his own obsession, though he doesn't comment.
• Privately, Luka almost laughs to himself, knowing he has finally met his match.
(lmk if you want to be added to the taglist to be notified when I post and whether or not you wanna be tagged for all fandoms that I write for or specific ones!!)
Change of plans!!! It’ll be out tomorrow, guys!! I sliced my finger open today while making dinner, so I didn’t get to finish editing one of the requests that was supposed to be out today but it SHOULD be out tomorrow!!
My drafts deserve a break (ᵕ—ᴗ—) I’ve got like ten things just sitting in my drafts while I’m going back and forth between writing them and deleting (I’m cooking in there… or at least I think I am) BUT dw guys, I’m still working on your requests!!! Another one should be out sometime this weekend hopefully!! 🩷Also, I’ve decided to make a taglist, so lmk if you want to be added to it!! (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵)
Debating if I should make a taglist or not ( ˃` ⩌ ´˂ ) lmk if you guys would want me to make one and/or be added to it! Also, the next request I got should be out sometime this weekend I finished writing it and now I’m just editing it!!! (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
If this something your uncomfortable with writing just ignore this but kuroo who is our older brother (younger fem reader) and hes extremely over bearing and touchy a drabble or headcanons plz
Too Close to Breathe (DARK CONTENT)
Pairing: Tetsurō Kuroo (post-timeskip) x Female Reader
Word Count: 1k
Summary: When your older brother Kuroo shows up unannounced—again at your apartment—you're forced to confront the truth behind his relentless protectiveness. What used to feel like care now feels like control; what used to mean safety now feels like suffocation, and you're wondering if his love is protection... or a cage you can't escape.
Hey Siri, play author's note.
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10: HIII I don't mind writing something like this at all, I decided to write a drabble!! You didn't say if you wanted pre- or post-timeskip, so I just went and chose post-timeskip. I hope that's okay!! ALSO, to my other requesters! I'm still working on writing your requests and getting them out. I hope you enjoy!! (,,>ヮ<,,)!
The dim kitchen light in your apartment buzzed; the sound was like a beehive, and the key to your apartment clicked in the lock before you even had the chance to answer the door.
"Oi," Kuroo's voice came through the hall before he did, smooth and familiar, carrying that easy confidence he wore like armor. "You forgot to deadbolt again."
He stepped into your apartment like it was still his. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing his black coat and the faint scent of rain and fabric softener. He shut the door behind him with a heavy thunk that made the walls hum even more than the kitchen light.
"I didn't forget," you muttered from the couch, notebook in hand. "I just—"
"Didn't think about it," he finished, walking past you, scanning the room like an inspector. "You live in Tokyo. People get their doors kicked in for less."
He reached over, flicked the lock with an audible click, and turned back to you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What if I wasn't me?"
"You've got my spare key."
"Yeah, and if I lost it?" He arched a brow. "You'd just let whoever walked in waltz right up to you?"
You sighed, sinking into the couch cushion. "Why are you here, Tetsu?"
ꫂ❁
Kuroo completely ignored the question, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the back of your kitchen chair that sat on the island of the kitchen, a repeated motion he'd done a hundred times before now instinctive. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, his tie loose, his hair as messy as it used to be, though now the streaks of maturity, tired eyes, and heavier posture made him look older than his twenty-something years.
He crouched in front of the coffee table, scanning the scattered notebooks and takeout boxes. "You eat this?"
You frowned. "I did."
"By choice?" He picked up the box, grimaced, and set it down. "You can't live off of cold noodles and caffeine. You'll end up in the hospital."
"I'm fine."
He glanced up at you, sharp eyes narrowing. "You've lost weight."
You shifted uncomfortably. "You always say that."
"Because it's true." He stood, towering over you now, his shadow stretching across the couch. "You're not taking care of yourself."
You bristled. "You sound like Mom."
"Mom doesn't check your lease, your locks, your grades, your bills, your—"
"Exactly," you snapped. "She doesn't."
ꫂ❁
Those words made him stop for half a second. The corner of his mouth twitched, not in amusement this time, but something closer to irritation—or guilt.
"I'm just trying to make sure you're okay," he said, quieter now.
"I am okay."
He walked around the coffee table, sat on the armrest beside you, close enough that his knee brushed your shoulder. "No, you're surviving. That's different."
ꫂ❁
The proximity was suffocating to the point it almost made you nauseous. The way Kuroo still leaned down to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, like you were still a kid who needed help fixing her uniform collar before school. The way his fingers lingered for almost a second too long.
You pulled back, muttering, "I can handle it."
"Yeah?" he murmured. "Handle what? The city? The people? The late nights?" His tone sharpened, quiet but pressing. "You think the world gives a damn about you being independent? You're soft, baby. You always were."
"That's not fair."
He exhaled through his nose, the faintest smile returning, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe not. But it's true, and it's time you accept that."
He leaned back, eyes scanning you the way he used to scan the court when he was younger, but now his gaze was analyzing, calculating. His knee jiggled, his hand drummed against his thigh. "You shouldn't be alone here."
"I'm not alone."
"Who else is here, then?" His tone was too casual to be casual. "You seeing anyone?"
The air went thick.
You blinked, realizing your slip-up. "That's none of your business."
"It's absolutely my business."
"No, it isn't."
"It is when I'm the one who gets the call if something happens to you," he shot back, eyes flashing with something hard, almost possessive. "You think I'd just sit still if some guy started sniffing around my little sister?"
"You're not my dad, Kuroo."
"I know," he said immediately, voice lowering. "But I'm the one who actually shows up."
That landed like a blow. You stared down at your notebook, knuckles white around your pen.
He sighed and reached for your wrist, thumb brushing over the pulse point there like he was checking your heartbeat. "You don't get it. I can't just... switch it off. The worrying. The checking. You're all I've got left that matters."
His tone cracked halfway through, soft and rough at once.
You tried to pull your hand back, but he didn't let go right away. His grip wasn't painful, just firm—grounding or maybe trapping.
"Let me go," you said softly.
He hesitated. Then he did.
The silence afterward was unbearable.
ꫂ❁
Finally, he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I just— I saw your light on and thought you might've forgotten to eat. That's all."
You knew it wasn't all. He checked your apartment every night. Drove across the city every single night, no matter how busy he was, he always made the time just to make sure the apartment light was turned off before midnight. He knew your schedule better than you did. He noticed things like empty fridge shelves and missed calls.
But you didn't say it.
He stood and stretched, breaking the tension with a grin that didn't quite hide the exhaustion behind it. "Alright, fine. I'll go. But you're coming to dinner this weekend. No excuses."
You nodded, not looking at him.
As he reached for his coat, he paused in the doorway, half-turned back. "And hey—"
You looked up.
"Deadbolt the door this time," he said. "Humor me."
He left before you could answer.
The moment the door shut, you locked it.
Twice.
Then leaned your forehead against the wood, breathing out slowly, your pulse still skipping under the ghost of his touch.
He meant well; He always did.
But lately, Kuroo's version of love felt like something you had to escape just to breathe, and it made you wonder how in the hell you were going to survive dinner with him this weekend, especially with your other friend who just happened to arrive back in Tokyo.
I'll post one of the requests later today!! ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡ I finished writing it yesterday. I'm now just editing it cause I'm indecisive as fuck, and I fear I keep changing stuff (╥﹏╥)
