joining the war on kids reading any book they want on the side of kids reading any book they want. simply you will be fine. it's even good to be confronted with things you don't understand and even find upsetting, uncomfortable and difficult. it's a surprise tool that will help you later.
literally ok so not a funny story but kind of funny? when I was nine I encountered rape in a book and I was like hey mom what’s this mean and she explained it and I was like oh. gross. and then like two weeks later a girl on the bus abruptly disclosed her csa and we were all like ????? what ???? but I was like wait hang on there’s a word for that ☝️🤓 and explained what it meant and that it was illegal and that you could talk to a teacher or my mom if it had happened to you and everyone was like ohhhhh I see I see and very somberly comforted the girl (she was safe she was removed from her home and living with my neighbor at the time so it wasn’t Urgent)
when andrea gibson said “i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.” & when ellen bass said “to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it”
people tend to ignore Alphonse's anger in comparison to Ed, who's much more loud with it and has a much shorter fuse for irritation. but when it's about real, deep anger, Ed tends to turn his inward towards himself, while Alphonse gets angry at other people. in this essay, I will -
Hi everyone!! A super quick tutorial I drew up of face proportions/anatomy of a portrait🥰💓 I teach art/drawing classes like 10 hours a week & these are some helpful tips that really helped me elevate my art! I did it traditionally though bc pencil is my first true love sorry it’s not as clean as digital art jajajajajajaja
( sorry for the English, I teach this in Spanish & idk how to express half of these thoughts in English to be honest😂😂😂)
Some examples of portraits I drew using this technique🥰💓
sypnosis; your blood tastes like a blood orange and your scent is citrus and sweet. sakusa kiyoomi, the wealthy vampire, and iwaizumi hajime, the fit werewolf can’t seem to get you off their mind because of it, who will you choose?
tags; love triangle, friends to lovers, one sided and mutual pining, fluff, slight smut, strangers to lovers, slight age gap (like 2-3 years), slow burn, jealousy, suna x reader mentions, rich boy sakusa, athletic trainer iwaizumi, collage au, msby jackets star collage team, angst, mention/hints to a soulmate au or fated love, meathead boys, forbidden romance, second chance, mentions of failed welfare system/ faults within the government (sos have to make it slightly political).
vampires | werewolves | teaser
ch1. any human would
ch2. well, she’s gone
ch3. the woods
if you want to be tagged, reply to this post!! currently have: @alyaemes @sakruisin-thru @nomyimi @uhsakusa
warning: smut, mutual pining, femme poc reader, p in v, oral sex, dry humping, honestly this is so self indulgent (i started this when i was in academic research and needed an escape of that hell), did not proof read soz.
word count: 3068
find pt 1 here!
(a/n: i am so sorry for the delay here! i got laid off in feb from my job (yay tech) and applied to graduate school, got in and now set to move in a couple days. it's been a lot and i'm trying my best to keep up with the things that make me happy. thank u @kurodoroppu for being such a great friend and pushing me to write love u)
“darling,” he whispers against your lips, “say something please. i won’t touch you until you say what you need from me.”
you pull away and give him an imposing look. his eyes held sweetness, kindness and...fear? always the leader, he was calculating. he was double checking...no...triple checking that you were okay with this.
“i can’t run away from it anymore, daichi,” you cup his face, “i'm so sorry for making you wait for this long. im ready. i want you.”
“fuck.” and with that he smashes his lips against you again.
his hands wind up from your hips, up your breasts, your neck and land on your face. he cannot get enough. he’s kissed you before, he’s touched you (over clothes), he’s felt your body against his, yet, his body is on fucking fire.
he grabs you by your ass, picks you up off the table and throws you on the bed onto your back. you knew he was strong, but seeing his ability to toss your around made you swoon. you look at him through your eyelashes. he’s breathing hard. he’s looking at you in a depraved way you’ve never seen him. he must have hidden this ferocity from you.
it doesn't click but, oh baby girl, he’s famished.
he makes his way to you, taking his outer layer shirt off first, leaving on his white undershirt. he captures your lips again, weaving his fingers in your hair and rolls his hips into yours. you feel his clothed cock rub against your leg, then your covered pussy, and you experience another wave of pleasure.
“i wanna give you a little taste of your teasing tonight, darling.” his deep voice rumbling in your ear. you shiver.
“what teasing, daichi?” you look at him with wide eyes, trying to feign innocence. he draws back his hips, snaps them to you, and goes back into a steady grind against your clothed groins.
he moans oh so sweetly as he looks at you and says, “don’t play dirty, honey. i’m not interested in this back and forth tonight. you riled me up, it’s only fair i return the favor”.
he brings his mouth to swallow your moans. he’s kissing you like he loves you, and moving his hips like he’s fucking you. he’s grabbing onto your breasts, your hips, your ass as if he’ll spin out into space. you’re still fully clothed, but he’s still driving you wild, building up that pressure deep in your belly.
you can’t keep track of time of how long he’s been mock making love to you, but both your patience is wearing thin. he finally makes a move to your neck, sucking roughly around the space.
“dai….,” you whine, “i don’t have enough makeup to hide your marks.”
he laughs darkly against your neck, “mmm but baby where’s the fun in all of that?”
you run your fingers through his hair, “we’re presenting our life's work to well known researchers, i cannot --mmph!” daichi silences you quickly with his lips, “okay okay fine. but mostly because i don’t think i could focus around you if i saw those marks.”
you start giggling, and he pulls away to study your face. he joins in your giggle fits and you decide to take control and push his chest, so he falls on his back.
he’s surprised, but smiles warmly up at you, welcoming the change of scenery. from his position, your deep skin has a pink flush. he’s never seen you more breathless, never seen you glow so much.
as you move to sit on top of his throbbing erection, his hands make their way to your plush waist. he bucks his hips, getting you to groan again. he starts his pace again, aiming to drive you wild, as pay back for the club.
no, no, this isn’t how you wanted this to go. you put your hands on his chest, signaling for him to stop and level your gaze with his. “let me take care of you tonight, honey,” you say lightly.
it was a simple phrase, but it was enough to make tears well up in daichi’s eyes. how much have people depended on him, that he's the one who's been the caretaker, the responsible one. it begs the question, has he ever been taken care of?
you take notice of the fleeting emotion and place a kiss on his mouth, then to both of his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes. “all mine.” you whisper against them. he grunts in response, your possessiveness lights up his nerves.
you make your way down to daichi’s neck, returning the favor of kissing and sucking and drawing out those bloody gorgeous moans from him. your body drinks up every single noise and you keep getting wetter.
you bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it off of him. you’ve seen him shirtless a handful of times, but none as divine as this moment. he stayed active since starting graduate school, keeping his body sculpted, but has that layer of fat that just makes him look so inviting. god, he is beautiful.
he laughs breathlessly. “thank you, love. you’re just as stunning.” you realize you spoke out loud. you blush and hide your face from your slight humiliation straight into his chest. his hands are roaming your shoulders, gracing your neck, he can’t touch you enough.
you kiss across his chest, testing the waters by taking one of his nipples in your mouth. he groans lowly, “oh god baby, don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”
that only spurs you on. you go back to taking one of his nipples and sucking hard. one hand flies into your hair, the other grips the sheets. in between your kisses and his groans, you drop your hands further down his torso. you lock eyes with him and drag your tongue up and down his abs. you suck a hickey into one of them. you let him toss his head back, as he tried to keep his composure, but his groans betray his pleasure.
“let’s take these off, daichi.” you swiftly take off his pants and start palming him through his boxers, and oh boy does he whine. you’re shocked. you never thought he would be willing to put down the tough man facade, but you’ve wound him up so much he can’t even remotely hide how he feels.
you think you should ease up on torturing him, but it’s too good having your way with him. the funniest part, he’s letting you get away with it.
you add more fuel to the fire, “i’ve been dreaming of your cock for so long.”
he rises to his elbows. he watches you with a bated breath. you really are his dream woman, he thinks, as you peel his boxers down centimetre by centimetre.
“i can’t wait to taste you, dai.” he fights rolling his eyes back into his head.
“please angel, i need something. i need you to give me something,” he starts to grown and oh, you could get used to the sound of him begging.
“mmm okay baby, just because you’ve been such a sweet,” you place one kiss on his left hip,
“darling,” another on his right hip,
“kind,” you pull his boxer band down faster.
“man to me.” he shudders, throwing his hand over his eyes. you pull his boxers down fully. nothing could prepare you for what his cock actually looked like.
it's the perfect length. long enough that doesn't make you fear for your insides. the part that does worry you is how thick he is. your hand doesn’t even go completely around his girth, but you squeeze firmly and give an experimental tug of him towards your face. you're determined to make it work
daichi breathes in sharply and grips the sheets tightly. you pump him one, two, three times to get him to attention fully and then you lean forward to lick his tip gently.
daichi throws his head back. he tries to keep himself anchored to the sheets. he’s waited this long to have you, he could wait a little while longer, right? wrong. “more.” he pleads, winding his fingers through your locks.
you give his tip a swirl of the tongue one way, and then swirled the other way. when you catch the spot on the under side of his cock, daichi is left a loud, groaning mess. you glance at him through your eyelashes, and he looks like he's in a personal call with god.
his lips are wet from saliva and slightly parted, his hand is covering his eyes, and his neck and chest is flushed red. you tap his thigh and his eyes snap to you.
"eyes on me, dai." you whispered lowly, his cock sitting so beautifully on your face. his heart was going to burst out of his chest, his cock throbbed with the way you spoke with him with such authority.
you keep working his length, drawing out each of those beautiful moans. his eyes never left you even as you work on sucking his large tip and working the rest with your hand. the hand in your hair pulls you up lightly.
"baby, if you don't stop...i-i'm gonna cum." he groans weakly.
"mm, daichi, what if that's what i want?" you ask innocently.
"if that's what you want, i'm not gonna be able to take care of you how we both want, so decide carefully love." he brings his hand off eyes.
you think, still slowly pumping him. "fair enough." you release him and begin to move to level yourself with him, never leaving his hungry eyes. he pulls you simultaneously to smash your lips to his.
in one swift movement he flips you onto your back, never leaving the kiss. you yelp into mouth, as he resumes your initial position of grinding. there's no way he could have gotten hotter to you, but he's proved you wrong every time.
daichi reaches to unlace your legs that are wrapped around his waist. "you need less clothes on," he grumbles, "can't believe you got me naked before i did you."
"are you pouting?" you laugh out, "the mighty daichi...pouting?!" you find this hysterical.
however,
he doesn't find the situation as funny as you. his hands impatiently yanking your dress off, pulling the offending material off your body and unhooks your bra next. his eyes are drawn immediately to your chest.
"you're stunning, angel." daichi breathes out. he grabs two handfuls of your breast, making you whine at the sensation. he's massaging them between his hands and you let out a noise of sin. the pleasure zip from your temples, through your spine, straight down to where you needed daichi the most. your mind and body feels weightless.
he moves his hands lower and pulls your panties down. he throws them over his shoulder and unceremoniously lowers himself to come face to face to your cunt. he grips your thighs and spreads them open. you gasp, feeling like your body was set alight.
he licks once on the left side of your entrance, twice on the right side, barely misses your clit. he's teasing you but not being gentle with you. the grip on your thighs is rough, and he's teasing your lower regions with quick licks. no he's not being gentle at all. he wants to overwhelm your senses. you know what he's asking.
"dai...baby, please." he looks up to a beautiful sight. you're perched up on your elbows, with your eyes hooded, lips pouting. he smirks devilishly at you. without another word, he licks one stripe at your core, from your entrance to your clit.
your thighs quiver and throw your head back with a guttural groan. his tongue just catches your entrance and it feels like heaven.he stops suddenly, and he starts kissing your thighs. he touches you anywhere but your center.
"daichi, please keep going." you look at him mournfully, eyebrows up turned.
"where do you want me love?" he licks and kisses among the skin of your inner thighs and your center. “lower.” you whine.
"here?" and irritatingly places fluttering kisses around your clit.
"n-n-no daichi. i need your tongue o-on my clit. i need to cum on your tongue, need every part of you to have me cum. just touch me please, honey."
he already knew he was going to marry you, but this moment just validated his feelings. there was this unspoken need to be claimed by each other. he dives right back into your thighs and sucks right onto your clit, returning to that same brutal pace. more and more he's working you up with his tongue inside of you, you're clutching your breasts, trying to center yourself. his fingers enter the mix and throws you straight into heavenly bliss
daichi gets you to your climax sooner than any vibrator or dildo could do. your eyes are fluttering shut, your thighs are squeezing and relaxing around daichi's head (not that he minds), your back is arching off the bed, and your cunt.....oh my god your cunt is pulsing and daichi is simply looking like a man deep in love.
"cum on my face for me, my angel. i'll fuck you right after i promise. just give me one," his voice is so strained, "let me prepare you for my cock."
one more press of his fingers in you sent you into a frenzy. your thighs around daichi's head started shaking and your already loud moans became variations of daichi's name, profanities, and declarations of finishing. he continues to let you ride out your orgasm as you desperately clench onto his fingers. he detaches from your lips and looks straight at your cum oozing from you.
"so fucking pretty." he says to himself.
you tap on his shoulders to have him come back up to you. daichi slots his lips with yours, as you continue panting from your previous orgasm. the taste of your arousal from his mouth mixes with the taste of his in your mouth. you both groan loudly.
daichi shifts his hips slightly, his cock head bumps into your sensitive clit.
"oo!" you squeal from the sudden stimulation. he smiles sheepishly at you.
"we can stop," he says seriously, albeit mournfully, "this is the furthest we've gone."
"god, please just fuck me dai." you whine. he's taken aback, but doesn't hesitate to move his hips back and guide his cock head into your entrance.
oh my word, the stretch is brutal and leaves you whimpering. he moves the tip and the first into your still sensitive, velvety cunt. seeing his dick was not enough to fully come to terms with how big it actually is.
"fuuuck. how are you so tight still, angel?" his face flushes and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying his best not to fully rut into you. you on the other hand, are feeling the burn, but you want to be wrecked.
"push through it. i want it all." you bite your lip. daichi looks at you again in surprise.
"i don't want to h--",
"you're not going to. i need you to fuck me."
daichi inhales sharply, slowly pulls his hips back and slams his cock fully into you. the entire stretch of him in your cunt has you in shambles. you're a moaning mess --
"holy fuck." you respond to his steady and strong pace with a loud moan. he moves your legs from his waist to sit on his shoulders and presses himself down to you. now you can feel him even deeper and hitting your most sensitive spot. he's kissing you, he's wrecking you, he's starting to lose his composure.
how many moons has he gone by touching himself to the sheer idea of feeling your soft, velvety walls? how long as he dreamt of you in this position, whining for him? craving him? letting him take care of you?
you start to see stars, as your eyes roll back. as soon as your eyes are shut, you feel one smack on your ass. you look at daichi quickly, and see his eyes boring deep into yours.
"eyes on me, sweetheart. i want to see you lose it." he growls lowly. he takes you out of mating press, and sits up on his knees. your legs are now straight up, as he fucks in to you. you feel him rub your clit as you feel your arousal reaching the crest again.
this time you feel your whole body floating.
you grab onto his arm to pull him closer, "i'm...i'm going to cum again."
he grunts against your lips, "oh fuck, please please cum on my cock."
you don't respond, you only focus on the steady and harsh smack of his hips against yours and how his fingers are rubbing your clit so expertly. you come undone in a matter of seconds. this time, you come twice as hard as the first, clenching his cock so hard that he yelps. you wrap your legs around his waist as you hold on for dear life
"fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" and you feel the rush of him arrive inside of you.
as you come down from your high, you start to feel the sheer wait of daichi on you.
"that...was an accident." you hear him say sheepishly, as he's tucked in the crook of your neck.
"what was?" you play with his hair.
"i came too fast...and came inside." he hides his face.
you just shrug. "i can be worried about that if i wasn't taking necessary precautions. besides, it was hot knowing you came that fast because of...what we were doing." now it was your turn to be bashful.
he lifts his head from your neck to take a good look at you. "let me take you out tomorrow. on a proper date. i want the opportunity to ask you to be mine. i want to give you that type of romance. i want to sweep you off your feet."
you feel your heart skip a beat.
"okay dai. tomorrow it is." you smile softly at him. because this time, you were ready to stop running away from what you knew to be right for you. you were ready to accept the love that was waiting patiently at your door. you were ready to jump right into this with him.
>> being best friends with a frat boy can be a real pain in the ass sometimes
or
there's no one who knows you quite like miya atsumu <<
series status: [ongoing]
masterlist. || next.
a/n: somebody lmk if atsuyn know they have feelings for each other bc i havent figured it out yet
[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]
---------------------------------------
Miya Atsumu has attachment issues.
Even at five years old, you can see it – the difference between him and the boy who shares his face.
Osamu is quiet, with a gentle expression and disinterested eyes. Whenever he spots you on the other side of the fence, playing by yourself in your backyard, he waves and says your name in way that flies away with the wind. Sometimes he just peers over at you until you notice him, asks what you’re playing when you finally do. But he tends to leave you be, more interested in escaping the whirlwind that is his brother.
Atsumu is a different story – the same face, but a voice that makes your ears hurt and your heart pound. He makes you mad, makes you want to yell at him. But when you do raise your voice, you think he might like you more because of it. He only ever calls into his house, asking his mother if he can come play in your yard. Laughing when you yell that he can’t. Appearing at your side, taking your toys and forcing you into a game you didn’t come up with.
“Go away,” you say, every day without fail. “You’re annoying!”
His response is always the same, loud and grating and marked by Osamu just behind him, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, but ya like me!” Smile so wide that his eyes disappear, gap in the space where he’s just lost a tooth.
You don’t tell him that he’s wrong.
–
He follows you around in school. You’re smaller than him at that age, and he makes it known that he’s aware of it.
“Gimme, I’ll do it,” he says, taking your books from your arms and carrying them to your cubbyhole.
“Watch where yer goin’!” he yells when older kids bump into you in the hall, caring less than you about manners and politeness and getting himself into trouble with them more often than not.
“Can ya see alright, shortie?” he asks when you crane your neck to see the board, pointing to his own seat as if offering it to you. Grinning playfully when you just roll your eyes and squint harder at the teacher’s handwriting.
“Samu and I are thinkin’ of tryin’ out fer the volleyball team,” he tells you one day, shoveling food into his mouth and only smiling when you look him over in disgust. “You gonna be okay on your own?”
You huff at him, eating much more carefully. “I’m not a kid, Tsumu – I don’t need you to keep an eye on me all the time.” You gesture at the cafeteria around you. You’re the only one sitting with him at lunch – you’re the only one who ever sits with him at lunch. Osamu sits somewhere else, with Aran, and occasionally drifts over to talk to you. “You sure you don’t need someone to keep an eye on you? You’d be all alone without me.”
He just shrugs and shoves more food in his mouth. You’re not quite sure where he puts it all. “Ain’t you enough?”
“What about Samu?”
“Samu’s a given.”
“What about the volleyball team?”
“What about ‘em?”
“You have to at least try to get along with them, Tsumu.”
“Sure, I guess,” he starts, lifting the lip of his rice bowl to his mouth and scooping the last few grains in. His voice echoes against the metal while he talks. “But what’do I need them for? I got you.”
You warm, wondering if he knows how that sounds to anyone passing by. A quick glance tells you that no one’s even close enough to hear.
You’re on an island alone with Miya Atsumu. Sometimes you wish you had a way off, a lifeboat or a rescue ship to come get you.
He meets your eyes when he’s done eating, his expression genuine – always a little too intense, but genuine all the same. “I heard the team needs a manager.” When you only lift your brows in response, he shrugs. “You wouldn’t have’ta walk home alone, at least.”
Most days, you don’t mind the island so much.
–
Your first crush hits you like a truck in junior high. A boy with a sweet face but a wicked sense of humor – you’re drawn to the way his eyes twinkle, the way he’s a little too playful. He jokes a little too much, but his smile when he’s scolded is too pretty for you to care. And you have the wonderful privilege of being his seatmate, the closest you’ll ever get to him.
There’s a point in time when you think you might actually have a chance with him. He finds you funny, and he always asks how your weekend was. You fantasize that maybe there’s a world where he likes your company.
The issue, however, is that he’s popular. He’s popular and he knows it.
And you’ve grown into a girl who acts like a boy because you were raised with twin boys who act like animals.
You’re not the kind of girl he’d look twice at, not when the other girls in your class smell like flowers and giggle to each other quietly. You think you smell fine, but there’s certainly no giggling happening in your life.
No, you tend to be surrounded more by screaming and fighting and swearing, courtesy of Miya Atsumu.
It makes the twins popular, too – they have that mischievous energy, the kind that makes girls fall for them more whenever they fight in the hall.
Girls want to be near that type of boy, but boys don’t want to be near that type of girl.
“Sorry,” your seatmate says when you corner him behind the school one day and nervously hold out a box of chocolates, hoping for a single chance with him. “You’re really cool, but I’m not that interested…”
He doesn’t make fun of you, you’ll give him that. He’s sympathetic, and seems genuinely sorry to hurt your feelings. Even now, during a rejection, your crush on him grows.
“Besides,” he adds, uncertainly and with a nervous smile. “Aren’t you and Miya a thing?”
It’s the first time you’ve ever felt your brain stop working.
“N-No,” you mumble, shaking your head forcefully after a moment. “Not even a little bit – why? Did he say that?”
You can’t imagine that he ever would; Atsumu may be attached, but he’s never gone too far.
“No, no! Sorry, I must have misunderstood…” He scratches the back of his head. “It’s just that… you two seem really close. You’re always together.”
He leaves you there after a moment of silence, whispering another awkward ‘sorry’ that you never hear. You just crouch in place, box of chocolate on the ground and confusion numbing your limbs. You pull your phone from your jacket hollowly, dialing the most frequently called number and listening to it ring.
“Y/n? Where are you? I didn’t see yer stuff in the locker.”
Atsumu’s voice is the same as always. Unassuming, unapologetic. Attached.
“Have you been telling people that we’re dating?” You whisper it, too afraid that you’ll speak something horrible into reality.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” He laughs, a bark of confused amusement. “Why the hell would I be doin’ that?”
“So… you haven’t, right?”
He makes a noise of derision. “‘Course not, don’t be insane.” There’s a silence between you that you find disquieting. He seems to feel it, too. “Why?”
You consider it a moment longer. He really must not be behind this. “Nothing. No reason.”
“Yer lyin’. ”
“Forget it.”
“Don’t wanna-”
“Well, I do,” you snap.
He pauses for a moment – just a moment, pointed enough for your anger to become embarrassing.
His response is quiet. “Yer shit at hiding things, you know.”
He’s crude when he talks to you, all honesty and no humility.
But Miya Atsumu has always been that way.
–
Astumu’s attachment to you continues well into high school.
It’s a running joke now, one that comes in shared looks between Osamu and Suna Rintarou, who had asked only a week into first year if the two of you were dating. To this day, you’re convinced that he’d only asked at all because Atsumu had made a very loud point about needing to be your seatmate when the teacher had placed you across the room. Suna had cracked the joked under his breath – ‘it’s giving obsessed boyfriend’ – but everyone heard, and everyone laughed. Only Atsumu had looked confused, and that was because you were fixing him with a glare that could melt metal.
Suna had made an instant friend in the quieter twin and an instant enemy in you. It had been a struggle for the rest of junior high to be rid of that impression, and you couldn’t allow it to continue into high school, not when the boys in your class are finally starting to notice you.
Suna had made up for it with a semester’s worth of vending machine snacks – half of which were eaten by Atsumu, anyway.
“You know,” Osamu says one day in second year, approaching you during a break in Inarizaki’s practice time. You’re folding towels on the floor, having been roped into the Manager position again. You glance up at him warily, knowing better than to think Osamu’s innocent just because he’s quiet. “Suna thinks Aran has a crush on you.”
You blink in surprise, craning your neck to look around Osamu and observe the older boy. He’s on the floor at the edge of the court, wiping his forehead and stretching next to Kita.
Aran’s sweet, and you’ve known him a long time. You’ve always been fond of him – a little shy because he’s older, but fond all the same. In junior high, he would help you with your homework and was always willing to help you study. He would buy you snacks and ruffle your hair when you would get too riled up by Atsumu’s antics. You’d always liked him, always felt lighter when he was around.
But could you see yourself dating him?
His eyes find yours across the court. You watch as his face warms, and he’s sending you a kind smile. You warm, too, imagining a different kind of relationship with Aran.
There’s a yellow-blond head in your line of sight before that thought can go anywhere meaningful.
“Whatcha lookin’ at!”
You could kill him.
“Nothing,” you say, returning to the towels. Atsumu crouches beside you, leaning into your face.
“Yer definitely starin’ at somethin’.” He tracks where you’d been looking before, tracks it all the way to Aran Ojiro. You glance up through your eyelashes – Aran’s looked away, lips pursed in disappointment.
A spike of annoyance flies down your spine, and the towel in your hand suffers the sudden grip of your tightened fist. When you meet Atsumu’s eyes, you see it.
Surprise.
“You like Aran?” he whispers. Osamu uses the oh-so-convenient distraction to take his leave.
“No,” you mutter, glaring at the younger twin as he sidles away. “Wouldn’t matter if I did, anyway.”
Atsumu tilts his head like he has no clue what you’re saying. “Why not?”
“You know exactly why not.” You stand with the stack of towels, walking away from him quickly – angrily, hoping he doesn’t follow you.
He starts to, but a whistle rings across the gym, so he’s forced to walk away.
You fill water bottles in the sink, wondering why your hands are shaking so bad – why you feel just a little disappointed that the conversation’s over.
–
He follows you home that day. Ignores Osamu the entire walk home, poking and prodding at your anger while he looks for answers. You ignore him in turn, purposely only talking to Osamu, who looks like he wants to melt through the asphalt.
When you finally make it home, you speed past their house and through the gate of your own, looking forward to being alone.
Atsumu would never let that happen.
“Y/n,” he calls, chasing after you and stopping the front door just as you’re slamming it shut. He slips through, following you into your house and only pausing momentarily to greet your mother, who’s less than surprised that Miya Atsumu is in her kitchen.
He still manages to get to your bedroom door before you can close it, leaning into the wood and grunting when you throw your bodyweight against it on the other side.
“Let-me-in,” he huffs, pushing with his shoulder. You plant both hands on the door and lean with all your might.
“Go away, Miya!”
“No! I don’t jus’ go away, and you know that!”
“I’m tired of seeing you!”
“No yer not-” You want to be angrier at him than you are, more stubborn than you’re capable of. “I’m yer best friend!”
“No you’re not!” you yell back. Another lie, one meant to catch him just off guard enough that you can get the door shut.
It doesn’t work. How obvious is it if even he can tell?
“Well, yer my best friend, so I’m not goin’!”
You groan and drop your hands, letting the door fly open and watching as he lands flat on his face. “What do you want? Why are you being annoying?”
He mumbles, face buried in your rug. “Tell me why it wouldn’t matter if ya liked Aran.”
“You know why.”
“Nuh-uh. Got no clue.”
“Because-” You sigh, heated as you sit on your bed. “It never matters if boys like me or if I like boys. You always get in the way.”
“How?!” He lifts his head, clearly affronted and completely ignoring the red spot on his face from hitting the ground.
“You’re everywhere!” you yell, throwing your arms out. “Boys don’t wanna go out with a girl who always has a boy at her side!”
His jaw falls. “That don’t make sense! Just ‘cause I’m a boy, it doesn’t mean anything! We’re friends!”
“Tell that to every boy that’s ever rejected me because they ‘don’t wanna get on Miya’s bad side’.” You quote them directly, the same excuse given over and over again since middle school.
“What the hell have I got to do with anythin’?!” He looks utterly baffled and a little bit annoyed, like it’s your fault that he’s not understanding. “You sure it ain’t ‘cause you dress like a teenage boy and sit like a gangster?”
“Please just fuck off, Tsumu.” You flop onto your back and shut your eyes. “I’m tired of guys backing away and asking ‘What about Miya?’ when I confess to them. You got a whole fanclub of girls wanting your attention, and I can’t get a boy within ten feet of me? How’s that fair?”
You hear Atsumu sit up, so you tilt your head and peer down at him. He stares up at you with wide eyes. Quiet, for the first time in his life.
“I didn’t know that.”
You blink. He blinks back.
He really hadn’t known.
You look away, swallowing hard. “Well, now you do.”
There’s silence between you, one that doesn’t feel quite right.
“Is that what happened before? That day ya called me?”
He remembers. He remembers, but he hadn’t been able to put it together.
What an idiot.
“Yeah,” you mumble, shutting your eyes and throwing an arm over your face. “I thought maybe you were saying something around school.”
“I wouldn’t do that t’you,” he says right away. “Why would I do that? We’re not together.”
You laugh to yourself. “And yet, we’re always together.”
“So?”
You glance down at him from under your arm. “You don’t realize how possessive you are… do you?”
His brow furrows, and he stares down at nothing.
“I’m not-”
“If I started dating Aran, how would you feel?”
You watch him very carefully.
You watch as his jaw clenches, as he struggles to maintain a neutral expression, even though he doesn’t realize you’re looking at him.
“You can date who you want,” he whispers. You keep your eyes on him and drive the point home.
“If I spent more time with him? Walked home with him after practice? Ate lunch with him? Saw him on the weekend?”
Atsumu has no idea that he’s pouting right now. “‘s not like I like you er anything. Yer Y/n.”
You smile to yourself and look away, finally, eyes closing again. “You don’t need to like me to be possessive of me.”
You don’t bother asking if he understands. His silence says enough.
“Ya want me to back off?” he eventually asks, voice soft.
Cut the attachment.
A knife-slice separation of you and Miya Atsumu.
The voice in your head – the one that’s always angriest with Miya Atsumu’s intrusive nature – says no. Whispers it, acknowledges that saying yes means hurting him and hurting you.
Wonders what saying no might mean.
“I mean it,” Atsumu says, his voice a little hollow, like it’s trapped in his throat. “If ya wanna date Aran – or anyone, I guess – and we’re too… If I’m too…”
The word no rings in your head, but the little voice changes its tune – this would be the only time you’re given the choice to change your friendship with him. If you say no, you’d have to be okay with him being like this forever, unapologetic and unmoving.
If you say yes, you’d have some breathing room. A little bit of space, a little bit of a chance to become your own person – a chance to be known as you, not as you and Miya Atsumu.
He’s giving you a chance.
You close your eyes again, fiddling with a loose string in your sleeve. Wondering why you’d started this conversation in the first place.
“It’s fine, Tsumu. You don’t need to back off.”
You’re not sure when you’d grown attached to him, too.
–
Nothing happens with Aran – he tells you later that it’s better this way, and there’s an inexplicable relief in the pit of your stomach when he does.
Your attachment to Miya Atsumu grows when you’re too careless to keep an eye on it.
–
“Me and the boys’re thinkin’ about joinin’ Lambda.”
You tug another part through Atsumu’s hair, making sure not to get any bleach on the undercut. “You and the boys, huh? Samu’s not much of a frat guy.”
“Said somethin’ about not trustin’ me and Suna to survive a hazing.”
You just hum, completely understanding Osamu’s point of view. “You do have bad impulse control.”
“Do not!” he complains, tilting his head back to look up at you. All he accomplishes is a smear of bleach on your bare thighs and a smack of your gloved hand against the side of his head.
“Watch it,” you snap, hurrying to wipe the bleach off your skin. You’ve got him sitting on the floor in front of your bed, in the cramped little dorm room that the twins and Suna had helped you move into at the end of the summer. Your thighs sit firmly on either side of him, both to balance the bleach mix on your leg and to keep him from squirming. “I’ll let you walk around with piss yellow hair like you did in high school.”
“No, don’t…” he whines, straightening and letting you work. “You always do it the best. And it’s free.”
You laugh wholeheartedly. “You think this is free? I have your credit card number memorized and a lot of online shopping to do.”
He scoffs, mumbling ‘what the fuck’ to himself before making a noise of confusion. “What’re you shoppin’ for? You got all your shit already.”
“Need new clothes.”
He points at your open closet, stuffed full of clothes and shoes. “Do ya?”
“Those clothes aren’t flattering on me.”
“Yeah, because you dress like a fucking twelve-year-old-”
“I’ll leave you like this, I swear to god-”
“Okay, okay,” he laughs. “But seriously, what’do you need new clothes for?”
You shrug even though he can’t see it. “I wanna change my style a bit… be more girly, maybe?”
He shakes his head slightly. “What for? You’re fine.”
“I mean, if I’m gonna be partying at Lambda a lot, I’m gonna want a roster of Lambda boys, don’t you think?”
Atsumu scoffs so hard that he chokes on his saliva. He turns to look up at you, disbelief scribbled all over his face. There’s bleach dripping down from his hairline. You can’t help but wipe at it carefully.
“The fuck are you talking about? A roster-”
“Am I not allowed to?” You level him with a challenging look, but he just rolls his eyes.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” He turns in place to face you, and then his hands are hooked around the tops of your thighs. “Just surprised… that’s all.”
The intensity of his gaze when he searches your face makes you warm and turn away, clearing your throat.
“I’m trying to rebrand a little, I guess.”
He blinks, chews on his lip a moment. Looks away from you.
You can see that he wants to ask – ‘need me to rebrand, too?’ – but he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask if you need him to change, because he already asked once and you already said no.
You wonder if he’s worried you’ll change your mind.
You wonder if maybe he doesn’t want you to.
Instead, he just nods.
“Probably a good thing – us seeing people.” When you just blink in surprise, he shrugs, more to himself than to you. “If people see us dating around, they’ll stop making assumptions.”
Assumptions that you’re mine.
Your heart does a confusing little flip at the thought. You ignore it, chalk it up to the nerves that come with difficult conversations.
“Turn around,” you mumble weakly. “Your hair’s gonna be different colors if you don’t let me finish.”
The next hour of your life is completely silent, but so unbearably loud.
–
The twins and Suna rush Lambda and instantly become boys that every girl wants.
Despite the shopping spree in your first year, you struggle to mature as quickly as they do – talk of hookups and weekly flings become a regular occurrence, both with them and with the girls in your year. You’re unable to contribute over the years, dating here and there but never managing to take the next step.
Despite everything, that age-old rumor you’d been so desperate to be rid of – the one that links you to Atsumu – sticks to you like the summer heat of that moment in your dorm room.
But that’s not what gets under your skin. It’s not that people associate you two in a way that makes it difficult for you to date. It’s that Atsumu is not held to the same assumption. He’s not held to the same curse, unfair and unjust.
No… Miya Atsumu seems to have no problem finding girls to warm his bed, even if those girls still fix you with looks of jealousy. You wonder what the difference is – why no guy is willing to toe the line of Atsumu’s temper, while the line of yours is crossed with every pointed giggle and weighted shut of his bedroom door.
The only girl who seems to understand your near-constant state of confusion is Tanaka Saeko.
“They just want to fuck him because he and his brother are hot,” she’d said to you one day in first year, after finding a group of girls in the dorm lounge whispering about Atsumu. She’d come out of nowhere, startling you while you were seething at the microwave. She’d leaned against the fridge, staring sympathetically at you with her arms crossed. “But to be so real with you, their friend is hotter. The one that looks like a fish.”
Your irritation had been broken by that, a snort bursting out of you unexpectedly. “Suna? He doesn’t look like a fish-”
“Then how’d you know I meant him?” She’d raised her eyebrows at you at that, a grin stretching across her face. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter. None of them are as hot as you – trust me.”
You’d found yourself instantly fond of her. “Yeah? Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”
“Because guys are douchebags and really only care about other guys.” She’d hummed to herself, thinking for a moment. “Maybe they’re all secretly gay… That’s how I get about other girls…”
Your laugh had scared the group of girls in the corner, all of their phones open to Atsumu’s Instagram page. Their glares told you that they could recognize you from the number of posts you occupy on their screens, but the mysterious blonde next to you just pointed at your chest and nodded at them.
“Great tits, amirite?”
You hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time.
Tanaka Saeko had brought you out of your shell, pulled you out of the orbit that is Miya Atsumu. She’d set you up with friends she thought were good enough, cancelled your Tinder dates when she wholeheartedly disapproved of them. She’d cleansed your closet of anything she couldn’t style into what she’d called ‘frat girl chic’, and had only done so after realizing just how often you find yourself at the Lambda house.
She’d started finding herself there, too – joining you in the group of exclusive few that were allowed upstairs, flirting harmlessly with Suna, dunking Atsumu’s head in a bowl of jungle juice when he was voted President.
Having her around almost made it possible to forget about everything else over the next three years.
Almost.
–
The breakups always come in text messages. They’re never brave enough to do it in person, not when there’s a chance he’ll be with you.
It happens again now, in the late afternoon of a typical Monday, just as you’re lifting a coffee cup to your lips and peering out the window to people-watch. The buzz from the table draws your attention. You glance down, and the eye roll that comes when you see the preview is involuntary.
“Of course,” you mutter, letting the phone drop. It’s a shame, really. You’d actually liked this one. He’d been cute, and he’d always treated you so sweetly.
Suna looks up from his laptop, gaze curious as he tries to read the text upside down. “Boyfriend?”
“Ex, now.” You swipe the notification away and try to get back to your homework, but the stupid discussion board doesn’t hold your attention long enough to stop the annoyance from creeping in.
“What’d he do?”
“Nothing.” It’s true. The sweet junior with the puppy-dog eyes hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d practically worshipped the ground you walk on. He’d been sweet and gentle, so much so that he hadn’t wanted to step on anyone’s toes.
Suna leans over and takes your phone, typing in your password and reading the message in full.
hey, i really like you… but i don’t think this is gonna work. i get the feeling there are some things we both need to figure out first.
The tattooed man scoffs, a hand going to his mouth to cover the laugh that’s slipping through. “Some things you need to figure out, huh?”
“That’s what they all say,” you grumble, typing away at the prompt your TA had posted last week. “Maybe they need to figure out how to assert themselves in a relationship.”
“You gotta admit,” he breathes, locking your phone and setting it down between you. The lockscreen lights up, a photo of you from high school. There’s someone else in the photo with you.
He gives you a pointed look, brows raised. “It doesn’t look great from an outside perspective.”
You turn the phone over so it’s face-down. “I’m not in the habit of feeding fragile male insecurity.”
“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “But no guy – even the right guy – is gonna love that your lockscreen and all of the photos in your apartment have Miya in them.”
“I’m not looking for the right guy,” you bite out, rolling your eyes. “I’m looking for a guy that’ll stick around long enough to hook up with.”
Your friend laughs, surprised. “Oh, wow. Very direct.” When you don’t answer, he blinks. “You’re serious?”
“Unfortunately,” you sigh.
“Are you a virgin or just ovulating?”
“You wanna say it for the whole cafe to hear?”
He purses his lips, looking around. “I dunno, the barista might be down. I’m increasing your chances here.” He barely flinches when your sneaker makes contact with his shin.
“I’m a twenty-two-year-old virgin, Rin.” You shut your laptop with more force than necessary. “I graduate in three months. I’m not looking for a husband – I’m looking to get laid.”
He follows suit, his laptop closing gently. He leans back in his chair, sighing and examining you with the eye of someone who’s known you a very long time. “You always seemed decently invested in the guys you date.”
“Maybe the first few,” you admit, shrugging. “But they all had some weird hangup whenever it was time to take the next step. They skirt around the issue, but I swear they all think Miya has the final say in my sex life.” The bell above the door rings, and your eyes fly to the couple that enters, the girl giggling and clinging to the man’s arm. Your eyes roll against your will, and you gesture vaguely at them. “Clearly, that’s not the case for him.”
Suna turns to the door, watching as Atsumu orders coffee with his girl of the week. “Oh. I see what you mean.” He breathes a laugh of disbelief and cuts a glance at you. “I didn’t realize things were still bad-”
“Oh!” The voice comes from the bar, and then there’s a blond standing over your table. “I didn’t know you two’d be here.”
Suna opens his laptop, but you just smile politely up at the girl on Atsumu’s arm. She’s in your major, you think. No harm in being nice.
She doesn’t smile back.
Bitch.
“Just getting some work done,” you mumble, starting to pack up. “But I’m done, so I’m gonna head home.”
“Want me to walk you?”
You groan internally, already feeling the heat of the girl’s glare.
“No, thanks. Suna’s gonna walk me.”
The man in question blinks up at you, green eyes confused. “I am?”
“Oh, are they dating?” It comes from the girl who’s got her fresh manicure on Atsumu’s bicep, her whisper directed to his ear but her voice purposely audible. He snorts in response, pointing between you and Suna.
“These two? No way in hell.”
There’s something about it that irks you, the way he dismisses the idea of you dating. You know rationally that it’s truly absurd to think about you and Rintarou together – especially because Atsumu thinks you’re still dating that junior – but that flash of annoyance, often appearing when he does, strikes you.
“We could be, you never know,” you say, smiling pettily. And then you turn to Suna, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “Wanna hook up, Rinnie?”
“Leave me out of it, please,” he says right away, attention already back on his screen. Atsumu laughs good-naturedly, and you can’t help but be fond of it. Still, you play the game.
“How ‘bout a date? Me, you, some Netflix? Maybe some chill?”
Suna’s sharp eyes are playful and scolding at the same time – telling you to let it go, because he knows what you’re doing. “You couldn’t handle my chill, princess.”
You roll your eyes and stand, getting in one more dig that makes his smile peek out. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind, player.”
The moment – joking, innocent – is broken when you glance up at Atsumu.
His expression is unplaceable, eyebrows furrowed and eyes tracking your smile like its source means something to him.
You lift your eyebrows in surprise – you’ve never seen that look before – but grin innocently at him and his companion. “If you’ll excuse me – I gotta get ready for my hot date tonight.”
“Got you on speed dial, baby,” Suna mumbles. Atsumu’s nostrils flare in response, and you say nothing to calm him down, only whispering ‘nice to meet you’ to the girl you’ll never see again.
–
“Damn!” Saeko yells, kicking at some gravel on the sidewalk. “It’s always the sweet ones with the chocolatey eyes.”
You laugh, wrapping your leather jacket tighter around yourself. “It’s fine.” Your breath comes out in little puffs. “He was a good guy – I guess he just couldn’t cut it.”
“They never can.” It comes from Osamu, who’s sitting at the top of the Lambda house stairs, snuggled tight in his coat. “You come with a lot of baggage.”
You scoff and turn away from him, waiting until he finishes taking the cover charge from a group of freshman guys that walk up. One of them looks you over, eyes lingering on your thighs and chest appreciatively. You shift uncomfortably – the freshmen this year are so bold.
“Oi-” Osamu says, snapping rudely at him and then holding his hand out expectantly. “Eyes off, money out.”
The guy blinks at him, confused, and then points at his friend at the front. “He just paid it.”
“You get to pay extra,” Osamu says, smiling sweetly. “For not respecting women.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a plastic jug labeled RESPECT WOMEN JAR.
You and Saeko both laugh, and you shake your head. “Cut it out, Samu, it’s fine.”
Osamu just shakes the jug at the poor freshman. “Ten in the jar, kid.”
The boys all groan, and the target of Osamu’s sharp edge – the embarrassed one that’s pink around the ears – scowls. “Who’s your President? Phi Delt doesn’t do shit like this.”
Osamu laughs in his face, shaking the jar. The coins inside rattle louder than before. “I look like fuckin’ Google to you?”
Only when the ten dollar bill flutters into the jug does Osamu answer him.
“You can take your grievances to my brother.”
The boys are quiet as they trudge inside, finally realizing who they’re dealing with.
You give Osamu a knowing look when they’re gone. “Respect Women Jar?”
He smiles innocently. “Bettering fraternity culture or something.” He points the jar at you before setting it down. “Anyway, what I said stands. You got too much baggage.”
You roll your eyes. “Go ahead.”
“You’ve been walkin’ around with Tsumu glued to your back your whole life. No one’s gonna stick around for that shit, sorry.”
“Tsumu’s off with little-miss-sorority-girl-of-the-night,” you argue, gesturing in irritation at the door behind him. “And it’s not like I’m looking for Prince fuckin’ Charming—“
“She kinda sounds like a little gangster when she gets like this, dont’cha think?” Osamu says, completely ignoring you.
Saeko chortles. “She sounds like your brother-“
“Alright, fuck you guys,” you snap, talking over Osamu’s wholehearted laughter. Stomping up the stairs, you smack his hand away when he reaches for you in apology. “I’m going to find someone to fuck.”
“Well, ain’t you demure,” Osamu jokes.
You let the door hit him in the back on your way in.
—
It’s not working.
It never works, anyway, but for some reason, it stings particularly hard tonight.
Even when you shed your leather jacket, revealing a tiny little halter top and far too much skin, no one will stay more than five minutes in your vicinity.
Why? you wonder, watching yet another guy make yet another excuse.
‘Gotta find the bathroom, I’ll be back-‘
‘I think my friend is calling-‘
‘Aren’t you Miya’s girl?’
There’s a part of you that’s starting to think Atsumu’s doing it on purpose. It’s irrational, you know — he wouldn’t. He hasn’t before, and he never would.
He wouldn’t do that to you.
But every rejection comes with another shot thrown back carelessly, and you’re starting to feel paranoid. You’re going insane.
If it’s not him — if you can’t blame him — then it’s you.
You’re unwantable, then.
Is that what it is? Maybe it’s you-
“You’re spiraling,” a voice says behind you, close to your ear. A comforting hand on your waist, the other reaching to take the shot glass from you. “Don’t be the drunkest girl at the party. It’s a bad look.”
Suna.
You turn, glaring up at him hazily. He’s not exactly sober himself, but he does look better off than you. “Is Tsumu goin’ around tellin’ people we’re together?”
When he levels you with a knowing stare, you retrieve the shot from his hand and knock it back.
“So,” you say, wincing after the swallow. “If it’s not him, then it’s me.”
“You know it’s not that,” your friend whispers, tattooed fingers plucking the empty glass from your grip and depositing it on the bar. “It’s not him or you.”
“Why won’t anyone go home with me?” you whine carelessly. “What’do I gotta do? I’m already throwing myself at any guy that’ll give me the time of day.”
You can hear it – how desperate you sound. How pathetic you feel.
Why does this matter so much? Why do you care so much about whether or not you’re wanted for your body?
You have so much more than this to offer the world.
You’re smart, you’re sensible. You do well in school and already have a job lined up for after graduation. You have good friends – really good friends. You don’t have terrible taste in men – your exes always respected you and supported you. You have a good life and don’t cause trouble. Don’t find trouble.
Why does this feel so important?
Why does it feel like you’re getting left behind?
“Stop it,” Suna says quietly, somehow audible over the deep bass that shakes the room and the screaming and yelling of all the partygoers in his house. “It’s not gonna happen tonight. You’re too drunk.”
“I can do whatever I want, with whoever I want,” you bite. It loses its edge when your words slur together.
He leans down, looking you in the eye. “You want your first time to be some drunken, messy, fucked up five minutes that you won’t remember in the morning?”
“I don’t care!” Your eyes are starting to burn. “I just want it to be over – I’m tired of having this over my head!”
“You’re the one putting it over your head,” he reasons. “Just let it happen when it happens.”
You sniff, scrubbing at your face sloppily. “I’m gonna die a virgin at this rate-”
“What’s going on?” Another voice in your ear, much louder and much more familiar.
You glare up at its source.
Atsumu’s face is pink with intoxication, but his eyes are clear and concerned as he stares down at you. “You cryin’?”
“No,” you say, the edge in your voice sharp. “But I am going home.”
“What happened?” Atsumu’s got a hand on your elbow, tugging you close to him.
You snatch your arm away. “Don’t you have some sorority girl to take to bed?”
He blinks, taken aback. Suna just sighs, squeezing your shoulder.
“You know he’s not doing this.”
You smack him away, too. “Doesn’t matter,” you slur, swaying slightly. “‘m goin’ home.”
“What’s happening-” Atsumu says, looking between you and Suna, but the other man just shakes his head and stops you from pushing past him.
“You can’t,” he says. “He’s just gonna follow me around and pout all night if you leave like this.”
Atsumu’s already pouting, looking more and more upset the more you try to walk away from him.
You can’t leave like this.
You can’t leave him feeling this way, no matter how you might be feeling yourself.
“Ugh,” you groan, pushing past them both in the direction of the stairs to the second floor. Suna’s close behind, and you can hear Atsumu stumbling through the crowd, trying to keep up.
The freshman brother guarding the staircase rises when he sees you, letting you pass without even a hint of resistance. You just stomp past him, thanking him grumpily, and shoulder your way into Atsumu’s bedroom.
You pace the floor while you wait, pressing your hands to your eyes and trying to clear your head of the alcohol. Suna flops down onto the bed with a groan, yawning loudly.
“Go easy on him,” he says lazily. “He doesn’t know.”
“Whatever,” you mumble, wiping at your face. Your eyes are burning again, and you can feel the knot in your throat.
Atsumu crashes into the room a second later, shutting the door and locking it.
“What’s happening?” he asks, looking between you. “Why d’you look so damn mad? What’d I do?”
You point a finger at him, watching it shake. “I’m going to ask you this exactly once–”
You ignore him. “Are you telling people I’m off limits?”
Atsumu blinks, processing. “No…?”
You grit your teeth. “Miya, I swear to god–”
“I’m not!” he argues, throwing his hands up defensively. “I haven’t said shit! Why?!”
You sigh, dropping your hand. You know – you know that it was never him – but hearing him say it is both a relief and a frustration.
“Nothing,” you say, your temper waning. You feel tired. Tired and sad and unsure what to do. “It’s nothing.”
Atsumu steps toward you. “It’s not nothin’.”
There’s a silence – that cursed, heavy silence that sits between you, time and time again.
Suna breaks it.
“She’s upset that she’s still a virgin,” he says easily, as though listing off the weather forecast. “And it’s definitely your fault, even though you haven’t done anything.”
You can only turn to stare down at him, mind emptying of everything all at once.
“What-” you whisper, just blinking lamely at him. “-the fuck, Rin.”
He just yawns again, lazy as ever. “Just clearin’ the air.”
Atsumu stares down at you, eyes wide. “You’re a virgin?”
You want to crawl into a hole and die.
“‘Kay. Now I’m leaving,” you say, turning on your heel toward the door. Atsumu grabs you again, harder this time in case you try to escape.
“What’s the problem with that?” he asks, shaking his head. “So what? Who cares?”
“You cared a second ago,” you point out.
He flushes. “I was surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think…” When you raise your brows, he clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“It matters to me,” you say, your voice coming out in a whine. You can already feel yourself pouting just a bit, that petulant side of you emerging – the way it always does with him. “It matters to me that no one else is. That no matter how hard I try, no one wants me enough to go through with it.”
He frowns, growing upset as he realizes how you’ve been seeing yourself this whole time. “But– it’ll happen eventually…” He turns to Suna, thinking. “And why is this my fault?”
Suna stares up at Atsumu, deadpan. “Isn’t it always your fault?”
You watch in real time as Atsumu puts the pieces together.
He really had nothing to do with this.
He looks too upset to have had anything to do with this.
Your arm slips from his hand while he processes. He looks down at you, swallowing. “Still? This whole time?”
You just shrug, feeling a strange sense of shame seep into your skin. “I tried dating around,” you mumble, hugging yourself. “Guess some assumptions don’t go away.”
Whatever pain you feel about it is reflected in Atsumu’s expression. “That’s not fair. We’ve never been more to each other than this.”
“I know,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t seem to matter what we are or aren’t.”
He looks torn – he recognizes that he hasn’t been held to the same standard. That this has only ever impacted you.
“Is there anything I can do?” he whispers, almost begging for you to let him fix this.
You just laugh, shaking your head. Wishing you’d never started this conversation, because you hate seeing him like this.
“What can you do to help, Tsumu?” You try to ease the way he’s feeling. “You gonna sleep with me yourself?” you joke, laughing. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”
The silence that comes doesn’t feel like all the silences before this.
You stare up at him, wondering why he’s dissociating, looking right through you. Suna doesn’t look much different, as though he’s realized whatever it is that you’re still missing.
“I mean,” Atsumu starts, swallowing hard. Still not looking at you. “I could…?”
You don’t process what he’s saying. “What?”
He flicks his gaze to Suna, who looks like he’s starting to agree. “I could… sleep… with you…?”
You just blink. It finally clicks.
“Fuck you,” is all you say.
Atsumu scrambles to stop you from walking out. “I’m serious!”
“Yeah, me too,” you say, leaning up into his face. “I’m not some fucking charity case. Fuck you.”
“Y/n, please,” he says, holding your arms tight. “It makes sense-”
“It makes no fucking sense at all!” you yell, tearing out of his grip. “I’m trying to get away from this whole impression that we’re together! And I want someone to want to sleep with me – I don’t need a pity fuck!”
Atsumu approaches, hands out to try to calm you. “You want to get laid. I’m the thing keeping you from that, right? Friends sleep together all the time–”
“Yeah, and that never works,” you argue, seething.
He just points at Suna. “It works for him and Saeko!”
Suna’s mouth drops open. “Dude, what the fuck?”
You feel like you don’t have it in you to process more news tonight. “You-” You point stupidly at Suna. “-and Saeko are fuck buddies?”
Suna smiles sheepishly up at you. “I prefer the term ‘friends-with-benefits’...” And then he glares at Atsumu. “Thanks for outing us, you stupid fuck.”
You throw your hands up. “You outed me, you stupid fuck!”
He just smiles. “And now we’re seeing progress!”
“What progress?” you laugh, pointing at Atsumu. “All he did was come up with a stupid idea!”
Suna nods, looking sympathetically at Atsumu. “It is a stupid idea.”
Atsumu scoffs, affronted, and points back at you. “I’m offering her a solution!”
Suna nods, looking sympathetically at you. “It is a solution.”
Both of you glare down at him. “Fuck off,” you say.
“Please fuck off,” Atsumu repeats.
Suna just shrugs, standing and stretching like a cat. “Well, now that I’ve been outed, I’m off to find Saeko.”
Things spoken and unspoken sit between you and Atsumu after Suna is gone.
You try to leave before Atsumu can speak anything else into existence.
His fingers wrap around your bicep with ease. “Y/n, please.”
You stare up at him, incredulous. “Tsumu, this is a terrible idea. You can’t be serious.”
“There’s nothing else I can do,” he pleads. “I can’t say anythin’ to anyone, because that makes it worse. And not doin’ anythin’ is how we ended up here – you’re still upset, you’re still left hanging, you’re still frustrated.” He looks nervous – nervous and drunk, his voice dropping to a whisper, like this is something he’d never say sober. “I can do something about that. You know I can.”
You swallow, shoving down all the feelings that conflict with one another, and get in his face. “I’m better than a pity fuck, Atsumu,” you whisper back. “I might be desperate and frustrated and angry, but I’m still me.”
He just looks at you hollowly. “I never offered you a pity fuck.”
Your lips part in a quiet gasp. Your ears fill with the painful thudding of your heart.
“What?”
You can barely hear yourself over the rush of your heartbeat.
Atsumu looks to be in a similar situation. His chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyelashes fluttering.
“Just consider it,” he whispers. “Please.”
His grip on your arm loosens, and you’re gone from the room before you can even realize you’d pulled away from him.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
hehe sooo!! @theherbologygreenhouse and I have been working on a fun little writing project of our MCs meeting had they started Hogwarts as 1st years and didn’t possess Ancient Magic. It’s set in the same universe as Hogwarts Legacy so you’ll see a lot of the canon characters, but is independent from the game’s events so some of the game’s canon timelines may not line up! This is during the girls’ second year! We had a lot of fun writing this together from our MCs’ perspectives so please check it out if you’d like!! the lovely banners belong to @cafekitsune ♡
disclaimer: I’m very much an amateur writer so my writing may not be perfect, but please send me any feedback you have! Always looking to improve hehe 🥺🫶
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Chapter 1: Herbology Mishaps
Summary: A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin crash into Herbology class late one day and are stuck taking care of venomous tentaculas after class. Does this foster an unlikely friendship or is this the origin story of mortal enemies?
word count: 1.4k
you are here 🍯 | Maven’s POV
Valeria’s Perspective:
“5 points from Hufflepuff and Slytherin for being late, ladies. And, you both will have to stay after class to tend to the plants.” Valeria groans as she pulls herself up from the floor, rubbing her arm slightly. Seems her day only keeps getting worse.
First, Grace and Anne had accidentally woken her up arguing with each other over something stupid - one had misplaced a hairbrush? Or was it over a boy? Either way, they had been too loud and it had been too early. Then, as luck would have it, Professor Sharp had asked her to stay behind after class to practice some potions with Garreth. Garreth Weasley. Her temper flares thinking about that red-headed imp. He better be counting the minutes he had left on this earth because when she sees him next, she’d strangle him to death.
Garreth was the whole reason she was late to Herbology - he had convinced her to goof off with him and try creating a new concoction. One that ended up bubbling over and scorching the table a bit, something it definitely was not supposed to do. Luckily, Sharp had been in his office at the time so the two were able to cover it up and avoid detention. By the time they finished cleaning, she only had 5 minutes to get to the greenhouse. There was no way she would get there on time.
She had accepted her tardiness but perhaps she could sneak in. Or if she played her cards right, would be forgiven. Professor Garlick has a big heart after all. But all her plans were dashed as she reached the metal doors to the herbology classroom, when some Hufflepuff brute crashed into her and sent her sprawling across the floor. In front of the entire class.
She refocuses to the class around her as the professor begins her lecture. A few students stifle their snickers while others look at them with a bit more compassion. Valeria shakes off the creeping embarrassment and dusts herself off. Rubbing her arm again, she begins heading over to her usual spot next to Sebastian. Except, someone is already there - Poppy Sweeting. She cocks her eyebrow, slightly confused at the smaller girl’s placement. Poppy usually sits with the other Hufflepuffs in the front so this is a bit odd. But then again, it does look like there aren’t any seats up front so maybe that’s it. Either way, this sours her mood ever more.
Valeria frowns and sends her friend a dirty look for not saving her a spot. Sebastian offers an apologetic smile, glancing over to Poppy and mouthing a quick “sorry.” I’ll remember this, Sallow. Valeria scoffs silently before heading further into the classroom, spotting an open seat by her housemate, Imelda.
“Have fun repotting those mandrakes after class,” Imelda snickers quietly as Valeria settles in beside her. “And try not to get tossed around by that Hufflepuff. It was sad to watch.” Valeria’s frown deepens and she crosses her arms. “Shut it,” she hisses before glaring at the girl who sent her flying just a moment ago.
Maven Godfreid. Tanned, bright eyed, and a bit taller than the other second years. She doesn’t know much about her, outside of the fact that she’s a Hufflepuff and she was probably the top herbology student from their year. They share some classes and have mutual friends but they seldom speak to one another. They didn’t really run in the same circles or share similar interests. But the rumor circulating around the mill was that Godfreid was strong and may have sent Leander Prewett running for the hospital wing earlier this week.
It hasn’t been a rumor after all. Valeria rubs her arm again irritatedly, displeased by how the pain hadn’t subsided. Imelda had been nasty with her earlier comment but she wasn’t wrong. It was embarrassing.
Valeria’s attention shifts back to Professor Garlick as she starts to pass out cotton balls in preparation for the plants. She grabs two from the basket and jams it in her ears, praying the mandrake she’s assigned isn’t too terrible. She can’t imagine how Garlick hasn’t lost her hearing after dealing with them for years. Just get through class and then you can extort Garreth. I’ll make him sneak out an entire apple crumble from the kitchen. Thinking about the sweet, warm crumble gives her a nudge of motivation.
- - -
Class wraps up just about how one would expect. Lenora Everleigh accidentally drops her mandrake, which sends Arthur Plummy into a panic and diving under the table. This throws Ominis, who sat across them, off balance, and he crashes to the floor with a screaming mandrake on top of him. Anne and Sebastian manage to get it off of him and into the pot just in time to stop his ears from bleeding out. Imelda and Valeria wrestle with their own mandrakes on the other side of the classroom as Professor Garlick cleans up Lenora’s mess. By the end of it, everyone’s covered in dirt from head to toe and mildly traumatized.
“Class is dismissed,” the professor finally announces. “Remember, mandrakes are nothing to be scared of. Today, we learned that staying calm is key to handling these fauna effectively. Keep that in mind for next week’s lesson!” A soft sea of groans fill the room before papers rustle, books slam shut, and the students begin to file out.
Imelda gives Valeria a solemn pat on the shoulder before gathering her things, knowing her friend still has a half hour more of this nightmare. Valeria returns a somber nod before watching her friend hurry out, probably for quidditch practice. She wipes off some dirt from her cheeks and mentally prepares herself for her punishment to begin.
Footsteps shuffle towards her, stopping right beside her. “Sorry for not saving you a seat.” Valeria looks up, meeting an apologetic Sebastian. She simply shrugs and begins unraveling some dirt from her hair. “It’s fine.”
Sebastian pouts, his freckled nose scrunching up in annoyance.“In my defense, Poppy asked first and her seat was already taken. I couldn’t just say no.”
“Why not? Because you like her?” Valeria frowns, turning her attention back on her friend. “What, no!” He gasps, flustered, his ears reddening.
“Sure, Sallow,” Valeria begins, a small smirk slowly playing on her lips. “Suddenly, ‘Sweetings’ is now ‘Poppy’. What’s next, you start calling her ‘My darling little princess’?” Her smirk widens and she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly. His ears flare a deep shade of crimson. “No, of course not!” he huffs, shoving her shoulder in irritation. “Forget it, I’m not sorry anymore! Have fun getting attacked by the plants, I’m leaving!”
Sebastian runs off, huffing and puffing. “Tell Garreth he owes me apple crumble, a whole pie!” Valeria calls out behind him. “I will not!” He calls back, sticking his tongue out before disappearing past the metal doors and leaving Valeria rubbing her arm once more. Of course he had to hit her injured arm, that freckled goblin. With a heavy sigh, she finally gets up and trots over to Professor Garlick.
“Ah, Miss Davenport. There you are. Once Miss Godfreid joins us, we shall head to the secondary greenhouse together. I’ll need your help with the venomous tentacula today,” Garlick chirps in her usual sing-songy way. “Yes Professor,” Valeria nods, pausing before she continues. “I apologize for being late today. It won’t happen again, ma’am.” She wrings her hands in front of her, looking up at her teacher with her big, hazel eyes. She hopes this doesn’t put her in Garlick’s bad books. One, because she hates disappointing her professors and two - she’s not good enough at Herbology to get away with things like this.
Garlick’s expression softens almost immediately and she gently pats the girl’s head, “it’s alright, Miss Davenport. Apology accepted. I know it wasn’t your intention. Everyone has a late entrance at least once.” Valeria smiles back, happy to be forgiven. “Thank you, Professor Garlick,” she chimes, following behind her.
“Good, now come. Let’s get your little task completed,” Garlick smiles and claps her hands together. “Miss Godfreid, shall we?” She calls out, beckoning over the navy haired Hufflepuff.
hey guys ! my friend @honeyed-blossom and i wanted to sit down and make an au of our hogwarts legacy mc's meeting out of the game canon. they went to hogwarts at 11 like normal so none of the game canon happens (yet - we haven't planned that far in advanced).
i'll be posting maven's perspective in parts and kuro will post valeria's perspetive in parts too and i'll link it them here as they come out!
thank you @cafekitsune for the beautiful post dividers!
word count: 1716
Merlin, Herbology started 5 minutes ago! Professor Garlick is going to be upset. Maven ran around the corner to the stairs that led to the greenhouse, books bouncing haphazardly against her back. She was too focused on the door, she didn’t even notice another student running with the same haste. Maven collided with Slytherin student Valeria Davenport into Garlick’s greenhouse classroom with a loud thud! Maven and Valeria fell straight through the door, onto their fronts and looked sheepishly up to the surprised students and professor.
“5 points from Hufflepuff and Slytherin for being late, ladies.” Professor Garlick tuts disapprovingly. Maven scoffed, getting up. “And, you both will have to stay after class to tend to the plants.” She hears the girl next to her on the floor groan. Both girls pull themselves off the ground, making their way to their potting stations. Her trademark red cheeks became even more crimson after bodying the frail looking Slytherin girl
Maven looks for her usual spot next to her friend Poppy, but sees her standing next to the Slytherin boy she’s been crushing on since this year. Poppy meets her eyes and blushes, looking a little guilty. She winks at her friend and drifts her eyes to him - Sebastian Sallow. He’s looking at his housemate, who’s still dusting her robes off beside her. He seems nice enough, but Maven doesn’t know him very well to make an opinion of him yet.
Maven walks her way to the back of the classroom and to the open potting station. She must have trifled with a god, fairy, or poltergeist to make today especially tricky.
She had History of Magic first thing in the morning. To say that class was a drag, was an understatement. Professor Binns went on a long drawl about the “Medieval Assembly of European Wizards”. Maven fell asleep atop of her parchment and her ink-dipped quill had slowly saturated her cuff in the black liquid. She only woke when her friend Natty pushed her, drawing attention to the mess of her parchment and her uniform.
Groggy from sleep, the two of them bustled off to Potions. Professor Sharp began this year by hammering the idea of proper potion brewing instead of theory. “All good potions start from proper documentation. Parchment and quills should be visible at all times, documenting your observations of making the Fire Protection potion.”
Maven searched through her rucksack, only to find her remaining piece of parchment, the one she slept on top of in History of Magic, also soaked in ink. Her hands were stained in black when she withdrew them from her bag. It seems the ink bottle cork came loose and emptied out in her bag. She gasped and looked around the classroom. Everyone already had their materials out and started following the instructions in their textbooks.
“Miss Godfreid, is there a problem?” Professor Sharp, rumbled from behind her. “Uh”, Maven hesitated for a moment, “yes, there is a small issue, professor. My ink has spilled over my bag and I have no more parchment.” Maven turned around and drew her eyes to the floor. He could see the ink on her fingers and the drenched paper.
Professor Sharp sighed, “While I’m aware this happens to the best of us, it’s not a good look for my top student to be unprepared. 5 points from Hufflepuff. There’s some extra parchment and ink in my office.” Maven nodded and sulked quietly to his office to grab the supplies. She returned to her potions to start the lesson, with her still stained hands.
She felt heat creeping up on her neck as she made her way through class. Professor Sharp is her favorite teacher and she loves potions, so making him even mildly disappointed upset her. After class, she rushed to the girls restroom to wash the ink off. Maven just wanted the week to end, she got into a fight with a stupid Gryffindor boy. She can’t even remember his name or the reason they got into a fight, but she does remember receiving a detention for punching the boy in the face. Professor Weasley has her cleaning the trophies by herself on Friday night. Stupid, prideful Gryffindors.
She was finally getting some of the ink off when the bell for the school’s third class rang. Rats, it was Herbology next and Professor Garlick was the last person she wanted to upset.
That’s how she ended up here, sprinting from the dungeon to the greenhouse, crashing into her classmate and looking like a fool in front of her other favorite teacher.
Valeria Davenport. A prim, proper, Slytherin princess, who deceptively looks like a ditz, but carries the highest marks in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Also, apparently it seems she’s rather frail. It felt like Maven almost broke her bones when they crashed into each other. They may be 12, but growing up on a Muggle farm, Maven had more on physical labor.
“All right, back to the lesson. children. As I was saying, we will need to take proper precaution with the mandrakes.” Professor Garlick began, her voice carrying to the back of the room. She passes around ear protection for the students and begins her demonstration with the Mandrake.
Some of the students in the middle of the classroom had a mare of 20 minutes with the Mandrakes coming loose and splitting eardrums. Everyone is tired, annoyed and moderately disturbed with the screaming roots. Maven brushes some dirt off her brow, letting out a sigh of relief.
Class finishes and Maven strides over to Poppy Sweeting. “How are you holding up, Pops?” Maven smiled impishly. “W-w-what do you mean?” She stammers, blushing deeply. “Oh come off it! You sat next to Sebastian Sallow and you’re telling me you held it together?!” Maven giggles. Poppy’s eyes widen as she moves to cover her friend’s mouth. “Okay, fine! I’ll tell you at dinner, but please god keep it down.” She whisper-shouts.
Poppy looks over her shoulder to see Sebastian talking to Valeria. She frowns at the two of them. “I don’t know her very well, but I don’t love the idea of you having to spend time after class with her.”
“Why is that Poppy?” Maven looks surprised. Poppy is usually super sweet and compassionate, even to strangers.
“Ugh, I don’t know. I guess I don’t know who she is and she’s talking to Sebastian. Like look at her eyes. They’re practically shining while talking to him.” Poppy deflates.
Maven squints at the pair over Poppy’s shoulder, “I’m not sure if I can see that from here, but I can investigate for you if you’d like.”
Poppy straightened up, “you would?!” Maven nodded, “won’t hurt me if I do, will it?”
“Oh, thank you! Okay, okay, we’ll talk at dinner, alright?” Poppy waves, dashing for her next lesson.
Maven walks up to Professor Garlick once the rest of the students peter out of the classroom. The professor claps her hands together, “Alright girls, are we ready? Let’s head to the secondary greenhouse. I’ll need your help with tending to the venomous tentacula.”
Maven tenses, she knows what’s coming next. “Miss Godfreid is more comfortable with these plants, so Miss Davenport, please follow her instructions. You’ll need to ensure the pots are watered, fertilized, and harvested as needed.” Davenport huffs next to her.
“Oh! And don’t forget to cast your Severing charm when harvesting girls.” Professor Garlick, she smiles brightly and slams the door after ushering them into the greenhouse. “Yes, Professor.” The girls say in unison. They look at each other in disinterest and turn to face the tentacula.
“I hate these plants.” Maven covers her eyes and groans. “Why did the professor say you were more comfortable with the tentacula?” Valeria asks bemused.
“Honestly, I think it’s because I don’t flinch at them when they snap, but that doesn’t make them any less terrifying or annoying.” She starts making her way to the side table, taking off her cloak, and prepping fertilizer and garden hose. Valeria stands with her feet glued to the floor by the entrance as Maven moves effortlessly around the greenhouse.
“I’ll fertilize, you can water. You won’t need to stay super close that way. Just don’t get any water in their mouths; that’s when they snap. The four in the corner will need to be harvested. You can tell by their flower and leaf sizes. We can do that last.” Valeria just nods plainly, unsure what to say.
“Why aren’t you using magic, Godfreid?” Valeria asks pointedly when Maven reaches the first Tentacula pot. “I grew up on a farm, Davenport,” she squints at her classmate, “I’m not used to using magic for these sorts of tasks. I can’t tell you the first thing about a water-conjuring charm.”
Valeria mumbles something that sounds similar to, “me too”. She walks over to the table where her classmate’s robes were and picks up the hose. Maven gets close to the planters, weary of the tentacula, aware that at any moment they could bite her head off. But to her surprise (and Valeria’s), they’re docile. As Maven finishes fertilizing the first pot, Valeria starts watering it.
They tag team in this way, avoiding a few snaps, and making their way to the back of the greenhouse to the tentaculas that need to be harvested. However the tumultuous peace was short lived as the very last tentacula that needed to be watered chose to snap very close to the two girls.
Valeria shrieks when the tentacula gets rather close to her ankles and she draws her wand out of fear. “Confringo!” Valeria aims for the tentacula, but narrowly misses Maven.
“ARE YOU DAFT?! USE DIFFINDO.” Maven yells and ducks behind the pot, patting her pockets. Of course, she left her wand in her cloak. Valeria panics again and a plume of dirt erupted all over Maven. God, she may kill this girl.
She sees a flash of red light and the tentacula heads falling to the ground. She stands up and sees Valeria pale as a ghost. They’re both covered in dirt, there’s water from the hose spraying everywhere and Maven has now reached full irritation.
“Let me just handle the rest of this.” She spits out bitterly.
(a/n: this is my first fic after a LONG time. i had this partly written in my drafts for the past 3 years but i had such a self indulgent self ship in my mind, so it's hyper specific to a certain point. i started this when i was working in cse research and had hopes of continuing that as a degree and really romanticised meeting someone like this.
im sorry if this isn't for you! i'm open to requests
the club lights and blaring french club mix slightly disorient you and your dance partner, daichi. your tipsy state made the setting around you sway.
you and daichi came to paris for a conference to present the research you guys completed over the past 6 months. you guys had a golden partnership in the lab. your lab advisor put you two together because of how well you guys meshed your computer, math and stats knowledge together. it seemed less that you two were working separately on your project, but worked as a unit and brought out each others creativeness and problem solving skills. your collaboration was so compatible you both made it to this point quickly.
but the quick progress you made, meant lots of time together; at work, around his people and alone. in the beginning you thought you were crazy when you noticed how his eyes would linger on you when you looked back at your screen or when you had collective lab meetings. but then you guys took your work home and things began to progress.
soon, the flirting became more obvious, especially to his roommates asahi and sugawara, with whom you became close to as well. daichi soon became someone you trusted and respected and you to him. conversations started straying from work to life goals, to ideologies, to literature, to morality, and more. he took the time to understand you and you found yourself starting to fall for him....just a little bit.
he started making subtle advances like holding your fingers when code was executing or when you hung out with his roommates and friends at a bar or at home, he’d sit so close to you that you felt his breath ghost on your skin when he leaned in to speak something into your ear. on those nights, it wouldn’t be unusual for you to find solace in his lap or in his bed, sharing saliva. but it’d just be that. nothing more nothing less since the idea of relationships with a coworker loomed in your head. he never pushed you anymore and you admired that about him.
but one day it almost got too much; not that he was breaching your boundaries, but you had to be careful about relationships in the work area. you didn’t know what was allowed and didn’t want to ask so soon into your working with each other. you were at daichi’s place catching up on a show you started together, while asahi and suga were out with friends. the night started out with you both on separate ends of the couch, then you got cold and started sharing a blanket. and then he was on top of you, his tongue exploring your mouth, moaning softly as he kissed around your face. daichi’s body was perfectly between your legs, his hands wandering down to your breasts. he gave an experimental squeeze. you squeaked in surprise and he laughed lightly into your kiss.
you were putty when it came to him, wanting only him to touch you and mold you. but suddenly his hands went to the band of your sweatpants and reality came crashing down. you froze up you were no stranger to physical intimacy, but this man was too important and so was work. he was so attentive to you and your body that he pulled away. he knew.
“i’m sorry daichi” you whispered, holding his head in your hands, looking up at him.
he placed a kiss in your hair, "don’t have to be sorry for anything,” and he just held you.
that was 3 months ago.
now here you both are in paris. you and daichi arrived a week before your supervisors in order to get everything settled and hopefully you both could relax. your feelings were adequately covered for the time being, until.....well....
until the hotel over booked and you and daichi were forced to share a room with only one bed, a couch and a bathroom. the situation was downright laughable. here you are trying to shut down the feelings until you could adequately handle them, but the universe had other plans.
you both argued on who slept where and settled on sharing the queen sized bed, sleeping on opposite sides of bed. but yet again, the universe had other plans, in the form of booze and tight spaces.
the club lights and blaring club mix disorient you. you swing your hips back and forth to the beat at the bar, feeling confident as you take a shot of liquid courage in your veins.
you saunter over to your group of friends who are sitting at a booth, swaying your hips in your tight red slip dress. daichi is sitting at the end and you pretend to stumble over your feet and lightly collide into him, making him grab your waist. he pulls you close, almost in his lap and your hands land on his chest as you try and “stabilize” yourself.
“you alright there?” he looks worried, but once he sees your playful eyes he smiles, a little confused. his hands don’t waver from your hips.
“oh yeah i’m fine, i just didn’t see the step leading up.” you smile at him. he chuckles at you rubbing circles into your low back. you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, listening to your friends recount various different stories. your friends start talking about dancing and they all couple off and pull you two to the dance floor.
daichi walks beside you, one arm around your waist and another in his pocket, laughing with your friends. you smiled at them as well as you lowered your arm to wrap around his back.
it’s now or never i guess, you say to yourself. you pull away from daichi, grabbing the hand that lay rest at your hip and spun yourself to face him. daichi looks at you, unsure if he breached your boundaries earlier. but instead he’s met with your devious gaze.
you bring this beautiful man closer to you, swaying your hips to the sensual beat. you swing your arms around his neck and brought your face closer to his. this comes as no surprise to anyone, but daichi knows how to dance. every swing of your hips, he matched. every spin, every step he matched you perfectly.
as you bring him closer, he came in to chase that distance, eager to feel your lips against his. you decided to pull away slowly. his mouth followed yours, grinding his teeth as he realized what you were doing. mouth agape, he stared at your eyes, plastered with minute betrayal. you covered your face as you stifled your giggle at how upset he looked. time to kick it up a notch. you’ve played this song and dance together so much, why not tease this patient man more?
you turned around to the beat of the music, lightly grinding your hips into him. his hands on your hips tightened. there’s his resolve being tested. you roll your hips experimentally against him one more time and in no time is he’s pressing himself hard and slow into you. his face buried into your neck, hoping and praying that you don’t notice how needy he’s becoming.
but you do. oh yes, how hard (ha) could it be to miss his growing problem. but you decided to mess with him more. you pull away from him, flash him a devilish smirk as you made your way to your friends who were now dancing in a group. they hadn’t noticed your intimate exchange, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. you wanted to tease this man for as long as you could tonight.
the booze made it difficult to hold back. he’s been nothing but patient with you all this while, and all you wanted to do was break that impenetrable composure tonight. but daichi wouldn’t, he couldn’t. he respected and loved you so much. until you gave him the full green light, he would never break.
his composure slipped for a minute, when he was grinding against you. he almost moaned in your ear, but he had to hold himself back for you, even though you started it. so when you broke away from where you both were connected, he was almost relieved. he followed you as you walked away, failing to keep his eyes from your ass.
over the course of the night, your teasing came in waves. daichi had taken to praying to every god outright. drinks were being passed and you were sitting in his lap again. the group started slowing down, and for you and daichi, the night had to end at about 12:30 am since you had to get yourselves together the next day.
you and your friends left in linked arms, daichi on your right and marcella on your left. you leaned into his tall stable frame, grabbing his bicep as marcella stumbled occasionally on the pavement. his grip went to your waist on the third time she tripped
your friends stayed on the same floor, but you both were farther down the hall. bidding everyone good night, you and daichi made the seemingly never ending trek back to your door. heels in your hand, all you could think about was a hot shower and taking the pressure off your feet. thankfully the promised land, your room door, came into view.
daichi opened the door, and let you enter the room first. you stepped in and leaned on the wall of the entry way as you drop your heels on the ground. he comes in after you, and stands right opposite of you as he takes off his shoes.
you both stood there, breathless, looking at each other in the faint yellow light of the entry way. smiling lightly, your gaze traveled down his face. you saw the way his shirt hugged his muscles and his waist, and his thighs so well defined in his pants.
you looked up to see daichi looking at you, softly but intensely. daichi’s eyes started wavering down your body. your dress accentuated your curvy waist, your breasts, really accentuated your ass, and it drove him mental. he wanted to devour you right there, to take his time with you making sure you experienced every ounce of love he had for you. you got more intoxicated on his intense gaze.
“daichi....?” you whisper.
“yes?” he whispers back.
you stick your hand out for him to grab. he complies and pulls you slowly to him. every cell in both of your bodies is screaming for no more longing, no more rules, no more damn space. you both have been wanting, pining, pushing (mostly from you), pulling and you’ve had enough. your heart was going to organize a prison break, you needed more.
you weren’t just a wee bit in love with him, you were fully head over heels for this fool.
“oh to hell with it,” you whispered and pushed into that empty space to kiss him. you kissed him with a fervor that was new. you wanted more tonight...you wanted to be more and all he wanted was to give it to you.
he was all over you in an instant. your hands latched into his hair and he’s pushing you back into the room, onto the edge of the table, lips not leaving yours. he slotted himself between your legs, bunching your dress up slowly to your hips. he rolls himself into you and you feel his semi hard cock hit your covered clit.
you moan loudly into his mouth, eliciting a smile from daichi. he squeezes the fat of your hips and molds them in his hands. you moan more, his actions making you grind more on him. god you might kill him.
“darling,” he whispers against your lips, “say something please. i won’t touch you until you say what you need from me.”
you pull away and give him an imposing look. his eyes held sweetness, kindness and...fear? always the leader, he was calculating. he was double checking...no...triple checking that you were okay with this.
“i can’t run away from it anymore, daichi,” you cup his face, “i want you baby. all of you.”
“fuck.” and with that he smashes his lips against you again.
