five times Iwaizumi almost kisses you and one time he does
contains: gn!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms), strangers to lovers, 5+1 things, fluff, mutual pining, diy tattoos, alcohol mention, weed mention, Oikawa mention, shotgunning, five slightly suggestive lines if you squint, a lot of easter eggs and cross-references. written as a gift for @eggyrocks ♡
word count: 4.5k
✧. ┊ ONE
It’s Kyotani’s birthday party and you’re sitting outside on the fire escape, covered in five buckets of fake blood and rolling yourself a cigarette. The wind is icy on your face and the air would smell like early snow if it wasn’t for the dubious popcorn experiments happening in the kitchen right now. You weren’t allowed to smoke inside anymore after someone set one of the dried up houseplants a little bit on fire when stubbing out a cigarette on it (it was just once but the pot was fuming for two days and a half).
Kyotani always brings a mix of the strangest people together. There’s you and your other fellow students from your gender studies class, then guys from his former highschool volleyball team. There is also a bunch of men with face tattoos and a criminal record from his underground fight club (who are currently nailing the choreo to Rihanna in Just Dance), some nerds he met at a Pokémon TCG tournament (you and him once bought a hundred booster packs together while high and he thought he could recover from the financial ruin by winning one of these things) and the small group of housewives from his DND group who he meets once a month.
It’s unclear why Kyotani asked everyone to dress up for this but you’re not mad about having an occasion to drench yourself in fake blood and call it a night. In true Patrick Bateman fashion you also spent hours with excessive skin care prior to the party while you watched your best friend and roommate Atsumu zip himself up in the skimpiest maid outfit you’ve ever seen. It may be early December but that wouldn’t hold him back from showing off his thighs and a bit of his ass cheeks–maybe at heart he was just a 2000s British party girl trapped in the body of a 6’3 athlete. You shared the same cheap cherry lip gloss before heading out in the cold.
A few drinks into the night and your head starts to hurt, which is when you retreat outside through the kitchen window to your usual spot on the fire escape. With the rolled cigarette dangling from your lips, you pat down the pockets of your suit in search of a lighter. You let out a frustrated groan when you realize you lent it to two guys dressed as Melody and Kuromi and that you’ll probably never get it back, which sucked because it had a kitty cat leaning on an eight-ball while smoking on it and you got it for free from your local conbini girl in exchange for a hand-crocheted triangle bikini top.
Someone taps your shoulder and you almost drop your cigarette if it wasn’t for the stranger’s quick reflexes, catching it for you before it would be gone with the wind. His fingers tilt your chin up a little and he puts the cigarette back between your lips. You look up and meet the gaze of Inuyasha.
Or well, a guy dressed as Inuyasha, but it might as well be your childhood crush come to life. Tan skin, sharp snaggleteeth that weren’t part of the costume but still fitting, and a pair of eyes that feel like they’re piercing straight through you. Your stomach does the little flip thing and you briefly wonder what was in the drinks you let Atsumu mix for you, but that was something to ponder on later. For now you only stare back at him, nodding when he asks if the seat next to you is free.
He sits down close to you and then reaches for something hidden in his sleeve and pulls out–your lighter.
“Sorry about my friends. They have a knack for never returning things,” he huffs and you snatch the lighter from him, your face cracking into a smile.
“Very noble of you,” you say, then hold up the light for him when he reaches for the cigarette behind his ear and puts it between his lips as well. His hand comes to cup yours to shield the flame from the wind and for a second your faces are close, so close, before you lean back again, taking a deep inhale of your cig.
“Cool costume. You watch a lot of movies? Me too,” he says and rests his chin on one palm, looking at you. There’s something about his gaze that makes you feel drawn to him and you briefly wonder what he’d look like without the cheap white wig and also if he’d keep the costume on if you were to hook up with him and ask him nicely about it.
“Is that so? Name every movie then,” you retort and it makes him laugh. Fuck. He has a really nice laugh.
You lean over and brush a few strands of the plastic hair behind his ears because the combination of the wind and the lit cigarette seems like a potential fire hazard (you learned a lot about fire hazards this year) and you’d kinda hate to see him combust too soon.
What you don’t expect is him leaning in, almost nuzzling his face into your palm when you do, and looking back at you with a flicker that can only be described as drunk and lovesick. It makes your heart stumble in your ribcage a little.
“Or you can just tell me your name. Unless you want me to save your contact as ‘Inuyasha’ in my phone. I can do that too,” you add when you pull your hand away, as if you’ve burned yourself by getting a bit too close to the sun. You put your cigarette between your lips and pull out your phone, tapping the screen a few times before glancing up at him again.
“It’s Iwaizumi. Hajime Iwaizumi.”
You think a lot about kissing Hajime Iwaizumi for the rest of the night.
✧. ┊ TWO
Osamu and Suna share the apartment directly below yours and when they text you that they made weed brownies, you didn’t really think about just how many of them they made. Together with Atsumu you shuffle downstairs, not expecting a bunch of other people to be there. Maybe then you would’ve worn something that wasn’t Atsumu’s old highschool club shirt and a pair of velour track pants you bedazzled yourself so it would read “soup” across your butt, but here you are.
“Is this some kind of side business now?”, you ask Suna when you pull him aside. He has the biggest, shit-eating grin known to man plastered across his face and shakes his head.
“A bunch of guys from his culinary school said they didn’t know how to bake weed brownies and Osamu offered to teach them, and somehow it turned into a ‘bring your own weed, get a tray of brownies’ party,” he replies and leans a little closer to you, which you know means he has a piece of juicy gossip to share. “One guy here totally got scammed, too. Spent ¥24,000 on some, can you believe?”
You almost choke on the piece of brownie in your hand. Osamu pressed it faithfully into your palm the moment you entered the kitchen, knowing he could trust you with it. Both of you had a very loose definition of trust–to Osamu it meant believing you won’t be dumb enough to eat more than one piece of the brownies, to you it meant you won’t change the contact names in his phones to soup ingredients again, no matter how high, and you both respected that.
“What, was it gold-dusted or something?” You cough and laugh, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes while Suna pats your back with empathy. “What a guy. Introduce us, I need to add him to my dream blunt rotation.”
Your eyes follow the direction Suna is nodding at, somewhere in the living room, and you meet the gaze of Iwaizumi Hajime slash Inuyasha from the fire escape. You start laughing again and head over to him, the sulk written all over his face.
“Not a word. I know, I know,” he groans when he makes space for you next to him on the couch. You squeeze in beside him and hug your knees to your chest, then catch the pillow he’s throwing at you when you can’t stop laughing the second you look at him.
“It’s okay. Actually, it’s kinda cute.”
“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“So what if I do?”
Iwaizumi huffs again and his arm just happens to be behind you on the couch, his fingertips ghosting over your shoulder. Appreciate it, he grumbles, and eventually his face softens when you start telling him some anecdotes of your high life that definitely make the ¥24,000 weed purchase seem a little less dramatic.
It’s loud in the apartment, with music blasting and people chattering, but you barely register any of it; too absorbed by his eyes that dart to your lips every now and then, and his tongue poking out from between his lips when he does, and the rattling desire in your chest that he could kiss you right here, right now.
His fingers grab your chin and tilt your face up again, just like they did last time on the fire escape, except now he’s brushing over the corners of your mouth, collecting a few crumbs that were still there. He brings them to his lips, licking them off in one clean swipe of his tongue, and you’re pretty sure you’d let him devour you.
✧. ┊ THREE
Mattsun–the Kuromi from Kyotani’s party–and his friends from the forensics science department are hosting an Addams Family themed christmas party on their floor of the dorm and this time you don’t make the mistake of giving your lighter away. Atsumu is on a noble mission to “get laid by one of the goths” and you’re on your own, but not for long.
“Oh, it’s you! Almost didn’t recognize you without all the fake blood,” Makki–the Melody from Kyotani’s party–shouts across the room when he spots you in the crowd and squeezes past all the people to clink his drink against yours. “You left quite the impression.”
“That so?”, you ask with a raised eyebrow and Makki gives you a boyish grin. You already have a feeling where this conversation is heading.
“Hajime won’t shut up about you. Like, ever,” he says and links his arm with yours, dragging you to the other end of the hallway. “He’s here too, by the way. Last time I saw him he was winning some kind of arm wrestling contest, but if you ask me people just wanted to ogle at his biceps. Can you blame them?”
Speaking of the devil, you find Iwaizumi stumbling out of the bathroom, stilling when he sees you. His hoodie is tied around his waist and he’s wearing some baggy jeans and a tight, sleeveless compression shirt that does show off his arms nicely. Very nicely. So nicely you forget what to say for a brief second.
Makki shoves you into Iwaizumi’s arms before heading off somewhere else, probably asking Mattsun to push him against the nearest wall, and you’re alone with the boy again. He caught you by your shoulders, his hands now resting on top of them while he looks you up and down. You wonder if he’ll do the chin thing again, and maybe if third time’s a charm and he’s gonna kiss you tonight for real.
Instead he asks, “do you want to check out the tattoo station they set up in the other room?” and because your impulse control has vanished the moment you entered his orbit, you agree without a second thought. Maybe not even a first thought. Ten minutes later you’re wearing a pair of black latex gloves and hover over Iwaizumi who is lying shirtless on his back in front of you.
“Kinda sad you don’t want a tramp stamp. It’d look good on you,” you sigh with feigned annoyance while rubbing an alcohol soaked pad over his hip bones to disinfect that part, trying hard to keep your eyes pinned on there, but it’s kind of an impossible thing to ask of you. It would be a shame if you didn’t appreciate the canvas in front of you.
“Maybe next time,” Iwaizumi exclaims with the confidence of a man who simply doesn’t do the whole ordeal of regretting. It’s admirable, really. “And I let you pick the design of this one, didn’t I?”
That he did. You drew a wonky oval shape on the stencil paper which was kind of impressive as it was, given the drinks you had prior to that. Iwaizumi took the pencil from you and added a similar one, overlapping with yours.
“That’s two eggs,” you muttered, tilting your head to the side and trying hard to focus–which again, was a hard task at hand, given that Iwaizumi leaned over your shoulder shirtless. He smelled nice. You noticed that the first time you met already. Something between fresh laundry, a spritzer of YSL Y on the side of his nape and a hint of sweat, but not unpleasant. It made you want to dig your teeth into the curve of his neck and shoulder.
“It’s a heart, dumbass,” Iwaizumi huffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, second to how much both of you were thinking about kissing the other.
✧. ┊ FOUR
When Kenma invited you over to his place for the Bouncing Ball winter party, you were promised free unlimited food and a goodie bag, but all you got was ancient rage and a badly rolled cigarette passed back and forth between Iwaizumi and you.
“I will fucking kill Oikawa with my bare hands,” you mutter under your breath and squeeze the can of lychee soda (branded with the Bouncing Ball logo) that you’re holding a little tighter.
“Believe me, I’ve tried many times in the past but this bastard always comes back. Like some demon lord or something.” Iwaizumi takes an angry drag of the cigarette before holding it between your lips again. His fingers brush lightly against your skin when he does and it’s the only thing that calms you down a little.
“Like. The blue shell right before the finish line felt so personal, right?”
Kenma had sent both of you into timeout outside when you almost flung the unstrapped Wii remote towards the flatscreen and Iwaizumi might or might have not punched a hole into the shoji door after Oikawa won the third round of Mario Kart in a row and was being awfully smug about it.
You’re sitting on the backstairs together, huddled close to each other from the cold and the unspoken desire to kiss the other one stupid. With every minute you spend like this your anger vaporizes little by little, until all you can feel is the body heat radiating off Iwaizumi’s body and how calloused his hand is when he takes yours into his.
He’s wearing the hat you crocheted for him, an apology for the crooked hand poked tattoo you gave him a few days prior to today which now adorned his hip bone. At least it wasn’t infected which was a tiny miracle given the circumstances. His face lit up when you handed the hat to him, wrapped in some tin foil because neither you nor Atsumu own gift paper and that’s the most festive you could do with the utensils you had at hand. At least you threw in a little bit of confetti which was now stuck in his dark hair.
You pick some of it off his strands and Iwaizumi leans a little closer. It reminds you a lot of a big cat asking for head scratches.
“‘s nice, with you,” he mumbles without looking at you and gives your hand a small squeeze. His thumb rubs over your knuckles with unexpected gentleness and your head sinks against his shoulder.
“Really nice,” you agree quietly, allowing yourself to close your eyes.
The moment could have been perfect. Just the two of you, the stubbed out cigarette at your feet and the sweet taste of artificial lychee on your lips, the slowly falling snow. If only it wasn’t for the backdoor being flung open again, carrying the chatter and the music from inside towards you and a too familiar voice that will surely haunt your nightmares chirping “yahoo~”, making Iwaizumi next to you groan in agony.
You spend the rest of the night losing another ten rounds of Mario Kart and Oikawa manifests as your sleep paralysis demon from now on, but at least you got to hold Iwaizumi’s hand under the table a little longer.
✧. ┊ FIVE
Hinata is back home from his semester abroad in Brazil. He texted the groupchat a photo of him (wow, he got really tan and buff, you think) and the three giant boxes of oranges that he brought with him and invited everyone over for an impromptu reunion party at his place.
It’s not as excessive as other parties of your friends, more of a get together that lasts an entire weekend with everyone dropping by and going as they please, as long as they take a few oranges with them.
You quite literally ran into Iwaizumi on your way there, your hands full with a bunch of books you borrowed from the library prior to that and him almost crashing into you when he skated around the corner on his longboard. He wore the hat you crocheted him again (with less confetti this time) and offered you his scarf and a ride. You almost wish Hinata would live at the other end of the world just so you’d have an excuse to sit cross-legged on his board in front of him while he pushes it slowly for a little longer.
Maybe he’ll give you a ride home if you ask him nicely.
Maybe the right words would fall out of your mouth this time.
Maybe he’ll kiss you on the threshold, with his fingers tracing your jaw and your lips parting for him so willingly.
At Hinata’s place you find your way underneath the kotatsu with Iwaizumi by your side. The air smells like hot punch and christmas cookies and you listen for hours to Hinata talking about the things he experienced while abroad. You swipe through photos on his tablet while around you people come and go, and the entire time Iwaizumi sits so close to you that your knees keep touching underneath the table. Occasionally his hand brushes over the small of your back or pulls you a little closer towards him when someone else squeezes beside you, his touch lingering but never overbearing.
It’s getting late and you should probably go home soon, considering the last looming deadline you still had to tackle before your winter break, but it’s not easy to peel yourself away from Iwaizumi. Not when he draped his jacket over your shoulders and his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and especially not when he starts peeling oranges for you and starts pushing the slices directly between your lips when you’re too lazy to lift your head.
You watch him quietly as he does, his fingers that are usually a little bruised and roughed up now impossibly gentle as he digs through the citrus skin, peeling away layer after layer. It’s beautiful, you think. He’s beautiful. You wonder if he could do the same to you, tearing through every bit of resistance you put up to protect your heart, or maybe if it was already bare in front of him the entire time, ready for him to sink his teeth into your flesh.
You hope he’ll peel a thousand more oranges for you in this lifetime.
✧. ┊ ONE, AGAIN
It’s winter solstice and Atsumu and you decide to host one last party at your home before the year ends. Together you go out to buy liquor and one mistletoe (for the festive spark of it all) but the lady from the flower store insists you take all of them for free since they’re closing soon and she would throw them out anyway. So now there’s around fifty mistletoes hanging from every ceiling of your apartment and the entire hallway of your floor, and you briefly wonder just how many mistletoes it would take for Iwaizumi to kiss you tonight.
Osamu begrudgingly agrees to prepare some food since you’d end up raiding their fridge around 2AM anyway if he doesn’t, meanwhile Suna shows you some paparazzi-esque photos on his phone that he took of Iwaizumi and you over the span of this month. For once you’re grateful that he snaps a photo of everything and everyone, because swiping through these makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.
There’s one with both of you smoking on the fire escape, leaning in close to catch the flame of the lighter. You with your legs thrown over his lap on their couch while waiting for the weed brownies, his arm resting behind you on the couch. The moment when Iwaizumi takes his tight compression shirt off in front of you (it’s slightly blurry and Suna blames it on the goths and their shitty lighting). Iwaizumi and you pinning Oikawa to the floor and a Wii controller on the verge of becoming a murder weapon. You napping with your head on top of your folded arms, a plate with some orange peel in front of you, Iwaizumi’s hand in the back of your neck while looking down at you fondly.
To be adored by Iwaizumi Hajime feels tender and mellow. There’s something magical about it; never loud or overwhelming, and yet never leaving room for doubt how he does love you with his entire being. It comes to him as natural as breathing. A love as toasty warm like a black cat basking in the sun, storing sunshine in every fibre of your soul.
When you open the door for him later that night, he hugs you longer than usual, his arms caging you in his embrace. He murmurs something about all these mistletoes against the shell of your ear and you laugh.
“I think it’s a dumb tradition, but they’re quite beautiful, aren't they?”, you ask and Iwaizumi pulls back slightly to look at you, his hand cupping one side of your face now.
“More than just beautiful,” he mumbles, not talking about the mistletoes.
You learn that night that Iwaizumi doesn’t dance (other than Oikawa and Atsumu who are currently destroying the Dance Dance Revolution dance pads in the living room), but he’ll happily spend hours watching you do your DJ thing. Anything as long as he can be in your proximity. He’s leaning back in the chair in the corner behind your pult, a cold Tiger beer in one hand, his chin resting on the other and his gaze never leaving you. It’s like he’s your personal bouncer for the night. You quite like that. It’s an oddly protective gesture but it makes you feel warm and giddy.
“Someone just asked me if they can snort protein powder off my biceps,” he tells you when you return from the bathroom back to his side. He holds up a cigarette he rolled for you meanwhile. You lean down and let him put it between your lips before he reaches for your lighter stored in his pocket.
“And did you let them?”, you ask, your face illuminated for the flick of a second when he lights up the cigarette for you. You’re standing between his spread legs and Iwaizumi reaches for your hips, making you stumble a little closer to where he was sitting. His chest is heaving now, his pupils dilating when he lets his eyes wander over you. You’ve seen this expression before, you think. It’s been the same from when you touched him for the first time, back then on the fire escape.
“Told them I was already taken,” he murmurs, almost not audible, and even in the dim light you can see the tip of his ears dusted in a dark pink color. His eyes flick up to yours and his expression is something between pleading and demanding. Oh.
How brazen.
He lets out a labored breath when you push him back in his chair, making room for you to straddle his hips. His hands find your thighs, fingers digging into your supple flesh and it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on letting you go for the rest of the night. Or, forever maybe.
You take a long drag of your cigarette and this time it’s you cupping his chin, tilting it up and hovering above him. Iwaizumi doesn’t need to be told what to do, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly before he parts his lips and lets you blow a mouthful of smoke into his lungs. It’s greedy, how he swallows it so willingly, watching you through half-lidded eyes. Hungry. Begging. Adoring.
He’s in love with you like no one else ever was.
“I need to kiss you or else I’m going insane.”
His voice is hoarse, strained. As if he is clinging to the last bit of his resistance and sanity. In one swift movement he snatches the cigarette from your lips with one hand and carelessly drowns it in his half-empty beer bottle, his other hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls you closer to him again.
“Please,” he huffs and it sounds like he’s pierced with ten swords, in agony over not feeling your lips against his. “Pretty please.”
Your arms wrap around him and you kiss him. During the longest night of the year it’s like the sun is rising just for you. You don’t think, just let the feeling wash over you as your body melts against his. Iwaizumi lets out a quiet growl and kisses you back, gently at first, until your tongue slides against his and his calloused hands against your bare skin start trembling slightly. He’s using every ounce of self-restraint so he wouldn’t devour you on the spot. He knows you’d let him and that is a problem.
“Took you long enough,” you mumble against his lips once you pull apart to breathe, which could have been an hour later or a lifetime. Time becomes a blur under the soft caress of Iwaizumi. He mirrors your smug smile, stealing another kiss from your lips.
“I’ll make up for it,” he rasps, closing his eyes when you rest your forehead against his. His hands on your waist pull you impossibly closer again, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, caressing the sliver of skin there. He lets out a quiet hum, a sound very close to purring. “Gonna kiss you stupid till you forget your own name and can only remember mine.”
“Silly,” you huff back and kiss him again. “Is this a threat or a promise?”
“Both. With you, it’s both.”
a/n: hi eggy ily!! your wishlist was spectacular and i had a lot of fun writing this for you (at some point it got a little out of hand i'll admit lmao). hope you enjoyed your gift and that the rest of your 2024 will be warm and tender. trying not to get sappy here, just know you always leave such a mark with anything you write, it's something i deeply admire. happy holidays & all the love for you <3
CW: Suggestive as hell in Aiku & Otoya’s parts, A little angsty in Shidou, Reo & Ness parts
A/N: Idk all of them toooooo well but they’re all interesting to me so I’d like to try also I excluded some people who are irrelevant in my mindscape (i'm so sorry) (Nagi is honestly lucky to be here with the flopism he has been displaying smh) Gagamaru my goat ntm on him also added Zantetsu in honor of him finally getting his cover art
I think if he’s craving attention he’d probably be a bit hesitant because it's embarrassing for him to ask (since he likes a lot of attention so he’d be asking all day LOL). In order to save himself the embarrassment he’ll usually just hold your hand and give you a serious look– if he can muster that (sometimes if he’s feeling shy he’ll just put his hand on yours while looking away). Well when he does look at you he thinks he’s giving you a serious look but surely all you see is him giving you puppy eyes.
Meguru Bachira
Oh if he’s craving attention YOU WILL KNOW. He’d probably cling to you as if you were a missing part of his body he was trying to reconnect. He’ll hug your arm or pepper you in kisses and he’ll seem way happier than usual because he’s just so glad to be around you. He’s a bit ridonkulous he might even jump on you, making you both collapse to the floor, or if you’re in a place with a hard floor he’ll instead pull you towards him and squeeze you like a giant teddy bear.
Hyoma Chigiri
He’s a bit tricky honestly. He has a good amount of pride so he doesn’t like to seem too clingy but that doesn’t mean he’ll back down if he feels like he’s being neglected. If he wants attention he’ll try to make you the one who’s embarrassed and craving attention by flirting subtly though incessantly. He’ll wrap his arm around you and lightly ghost his thumb over your skin or even ‘innocently’ kiss your jawline and then just as quickly as he started, he’ll stop and go back to whatever he was doing before so you’re the one asking for attention from him now.
Rensuke Kunigami (PRE Wild Card)
Honestly? Upstanding young man ass dude he’ll probably just start giving you attention until you reciprocate. He’s stubborn too so you know he won’t stop until you give in unless you’re seriously not in the mood for whatever reason. He’ll sneak up behind you and hug you and start kissing up your neck; eventually turn your head so he can kiss you on the lips if you’re willing to indulge him. The kind of guy who’d just lay up in your arms and gently lay you down with him after a long day.
Rensuke Kunigami (POST WC)
Ok I know he SEEMS insanely different but tbh I don’t think he’d change all that much. He’s probably a little bit more socially awkward because for a while all he’s done is train with little social interaction. When he wants attention, I think he’d likely use the same tactic but in a different way. He’d probably nip your neck or shoulder (not painfully; he is trying to be playful) and when it gets your attention, he’d start to pepper you in kisses or lay his head down on your shoulder if it's been a long day.
Gin Gagamaru
I don’t have a great grasp on this guy (despite being one of my goats 🥹) but I think he’d probably have like mannerisms for it like pointing at where he wants to be kissed and kisses you back when you oblige him. He also seems like the kind of guy who’d bring you something from his journeys in the wilderness as like a homemade gift and hopes you’ll give him the attention he seeks in return (you can definitely tell because he just stares at you as you open the gift, hoping you like it and then continues to stare expectantly when you do like it)
Rin Itoshi
Imo if Rin decided to get into a relationship with someone he’d dedicate himself to them just as he does soccer because he wouldn’t want them to be hurt the way he was hurt (someone you love acting coldly towards you) but he doesn’t really know how without cringing. SO his way of asking for attention would be somewhat sweet although awkward. I think he would likely try to do some semi romantic gesture like laying his head on your shoulder/in your lap (although he’s pretty tense) or just making general contact like touching knees or brushing fingers together and will absolutely WHIP his head away if you look at him.
Nijiro Nanase
Nanase is just a guy; another upstanding young man. I think he would probably flatter you if he wanted attention. He’ll probably start talking about the things he likes about you and how much he loves you, giving you a kiss on the cheek along with his praise as well. He is very aware of the fact that you think he’s the cutest thing to hit planet Earth and he will use it to his advantage!! Of course, he means what he says but if saying it out loud will get him covered in kisses he’ll say as much as you want because he’s never gonna run out of things to say.
Sae Itoshi
This guy… Is a real piece of work but, like his brother, I think if he’s willing to get into a relationship then that means he's willing to put in the effort but doesn’t know how, although he respects you a ton. If he’s craving attention I don’t think he’ll even realize it; he’ll just get really irritated when you aren’t around and when you are around he’ll stare you down so hard he could burn a hole through you but the fact that he doesn’t even look angry is what tips you off to what he wants. The look in his eyes isn’t insanely soft but it's not a hard stare either, he looks like he's daydreaming or zoning out tbh.
Ryusei Shidou
If Sae is a piece of work this dude is a whole project. It’s easy to say he’s like Bachira, which he is during the day, but I think it’d be more interesting to talk about him during the night. When the day comes to an end he said he “becomes nothing” so I think it would be the number one time where he craves attention and validation that he exists and you’re really there. It’s a somewhat vulnerable time for him but he plays it off like he’s just his usual clingy self and probably places himself in front of you at any opportunity. Looking down? He’ll lay on your lap. Facing forward? Well here he is in front of you. And by the time it’s finally time for bed he's completely wrapped his body around yours.
Shoei Barou
It’s kind of hard to imagine how he’d show affection in a relationship buttt I think similar to Kunigami, I think he would just give you attention until you give in. However, I think Barou is probably a bit more aggressive about it and he’d probably go up to you and kiss you, then pull away just enough to await your next move. If you take too long to decide though he’ll start kissing around your face: on your nose, your forehead, etc. He’s pretty bold but he is a tiny bit embarrassed/hesitant when it comes to feeling ‘soft’ with you so he’ll kiss you to distract himself from it.
Shuto Sendou
This guy is peak loserboy activity whew he is a huge sucker for being spoiled so he wants attention OFTEN. I think he probably just stands really close to you and complains about how his day was soooooo horrible and how he worked so hard but if being standoffish isn’t working he holds onto your waist for dear life or plops himself on your lap and hugs you, waiting for attention when he gets desperate. If he’s super desperate he’ll start kissing around your neck and complain even more. He even starts to say how betrayed he feels at how easily you’re ignoring his woes.
Seishiro Nagi
He’s pretty efficient in the way he shows he wants attention. Since he’s the spoiled type he’ll usually try to get your attention the normal way first: acting cute and laying his head on your shoulder or on your lap while he plays his game (he is expecting you to play with his hair) but if you don’t he’ll honestly be confused at first because he’s usually given whatever he wants. At first he’ll try to put your hand on his head but if you keep taking it away he’ll make you lay down with him and literally try to immobilize you by putting all his weight on your body; will even pretend to be asleep if you protest.
Reo Mikage
He’s a lot bit codependent so if he’s feeling neglected he’ll do everything he can to get your attention. He’ll usually shower you in gifts and/or take you on a romantic date. He’ll plan out a whole ass day of pampering just because he wants some attention. Please remind him he doesn’t need to do. All that. Because he often feels a bit useless if he doesn’t have time to do that. Not only does he feel useless but he’s somehow convinced himself subconsciously that he doesn’t really deserve your attention if he hasn’t done anything for you.
Oliver Aiku
If he wants attention from you, he’ll give you an insane amount of attention. Unlike Kunigami and Barou, he’s very forward and will text you, showering you with sweet words while he’s on his way to yours and when he gets there, he’s practically already all over you. He’s going on about how much he loves you and how he missed you so much all while kissing you wherever he can reach you. Tbh if he's craving attention, he probably just wants to have sex since he’s not a very clingy guy so he's probably already backing you into a wall and trying to undress you.
Eita Otoya
Honestly his appeal to others is usually him being the “cold but caring” type so, like Aiku, he’d probably text you before getting to yours but it’d be even more bare bones like, “i miss you” or “can I see u” even if he DOES genuinely like you he doesn’t really think deeply about his feelings and impulsively texts you when he wants attention. Unlike Aiku, he is a clingy guy and if he’s really desperate for attention he’ll still escalate it to sex if he can; just slower. Probably wants to lay his face in your chest or lap and makeout.
Tabito Karasu
Oh this smartass. He’s probably similar to Hyoma in the fact that he makes sure it's you who wants his attention by pampering you one minute and acting like nothing happened the next. However he does tend to like smart people so if you’re smart enough to see through his hot-and-cold act he’ll eventually hold you and hide his face in your chest, admitting defeat but he’d still be smiling because either way he wins. He’s already got you and he won't let go until you fill the quota of kisses you owe him.
Kenyu Yukimiya
He’s the type to feel a bit embarrassed about wanting attention at first but will be more forward if you don’t pick up on his subtle hints. His hints include sneaking glances at you or holding your hand whenever he gets the opportunity. He’s honestly pretty charismatic so I think that when being more forward he would probably kiss your hand and help you with anything you may need to get done or finish anything he may need to do so that you can completely focus on each other when there’s nothing left.
Yo Hiori
Honestly craving attention is a somewhat rare occurrence for him so it's a bit embarrassing, especially since you two are used to kinda doing your own thing. Probably gives you little ‘hints’ like starting off by asking if you want to play a game with him as an excuse to get you close to him. Another hint would likely be him invading your bubble whether it be by scooting close to you or hooking his leg over yours a bit or whatever it may be. If you still aren’t getting it he probably says something that tips you off while looking directly at you or glancing at you like, “Do you mind me being clingy?” or something along those lines.
Ranze Kurona
He’s such a sweetie he probably braids your hair if it's long enough (if it’s short he’ll still try a root braid if you want but he’s not very good at it). If not he’ll usually get you both stickers to mess around with, putting some on your face, others on various items and sometimes you put them in random hidden places as a nice surprise when you find them again. Typically this is enough to get the attention he’s looking for, but if you’re teasing him or simply forgot, he’ll lightly nip your shoulder or lightly graze his teeth over your shoulder (Since you two got together you have definitely encouraged him to be comfortable with his teeth around you)
Zantetsu Tsurugi
This guy often tries to be something he’s not so he’d probably try to do a bunch of romantic gestures that aren’t his style. Knowing him he’d probably put together some poems. They aren’t very good but it IS very sweet and he’d keep doing this for a while until the poems start to sound the same and he starts to get frustrated. He’d try learning an instrument, impressing you with his knowledge on a subject you like etc. until eventually he would just force himself to suck it up and ask you for attention outright and just straight up admit how much you mean to him because all these other things are draining and they aren’t him.
Jingo Raichi
He’s another guy who finds it a bit embarrassing to be ‘soft’ so when craving attention he’ll often ‘starve’ himself of it. Usually you’re the one who has to give him attention but if you haven’t for whatever reason then he’ll be angrier than usual that day with his teammates. He’ll probably give up by the time he gets home and just crashes into you grumbling about how his day has been SO unsexy. Probably won’t let you go until he falls asleep tbh and even then he still has a pretty good grip on you.
Jyubei Aryu
When he wants attention Aryu would probably start flaunting his beauty, pushing his hair back, striking poses, modeling clothes for you, whatever stylish thing he can think of– he will do it and then glance over at you to make sure you were paying attention. If that doesn’t work then he’d have you do some stylish things like he might have you try on some clothes he bought you or ask you to style his hair because he is “lacking inspiration” (He actually just knows you like playing with his hair smh)
Jin Kiyora
This dude is a freak, it's a lot bit funny. When he wants attention he probably asks you to watch a movie with him (You’re already suspicious that he didn’t put on Fight Club for the umpteenth time or another action movie). He honestly put it on as background noise and thought it looked boring so he’d probably just tell you to lay down with him and lightly kiss you until you get the picture (Spoil him). Can and WILL turn the movie off and hide the remote if you neglect him smh (He will not enjoy the returned energy next time he wants to watch fight club so for both of your sakes just give him some kisses).
Michael Kaiser
Complicated individual, rightfully so. If he wants attention he’d simply demand it. Bye. He would likely just pull you towards him without any further commentary, he might even look a bit annoyed. If you didn’t know him you’d think he was in a bad mood and upset with you but you know how he gets. However, he’s more clear when it’s been a long day and he’s feeling a bit beat down or unsure of himself. He’d just shove his face into your back or your midsection and let you play with his hair as he conks theee fuck out.
Alexis Ness
Another complicated individual whew. What is up with these codependent purple dudes who found the worst possible person to depend on? Ness has yet to find a relationship where he is properly loved and not essentially abandoned so if he feels like you’re slipping away he’ll panic and do everything in his power to convince you to keep him around. He needs a lot of reassurance tbh and spends a lot of his time in your arms. When he’s craving attention he’ll usually just be sulking around all day like a sad wet cat. Every now and again he turns to look at you wistfully and walks past very slowly like that damn homeless ant. Show him some love he needs it now more than ever ayayayay.
Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?
Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?
(It works the second time.)
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ao3 tags:
ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense
i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)
reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)
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Bzzz.
The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…
Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—
With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.
mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!
mr. handsome: One image attachment
Oh, it’s a message from Connie.
Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.
Oh, it’s a Sunday.
The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.
Bzzz.
This time, my eyes peel open on their own.
Fine, Connie, you win.
Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.
sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY
Another message pops up.
mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕
mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.
lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣
Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.
Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.
jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.
grammar police: connie give his blanket back
lainah: Haha!
grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone
Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.
ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place
ymi: Have u even washed it once
mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair
sashacado: LMAOOO
ymi: At least I have hair
sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE
grammar police: you guys
grammar police: missing the point here
mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres
mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides
mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass
sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP
Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.
ymi: Count your fucking days springer
ymi: At least I still have a girl
grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours
mr. handsome: ok nerd
grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix
mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.
grammar police: it’s the effort I guess
grammar police: back to Jean though
jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off
grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?
mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine
jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING
grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it
grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want
jean: IM
jean: FINE
jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT
Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.
Well. I mean.
There’s me.
But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.
Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!
But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.
Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.
Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.
You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?
I guess…
And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.
Fuck, you do have a point.
Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—
With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.
They’re definitely thinking it.
Okay, that’s enough from you.
I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.
me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently
No, that won’t do. I purge the message.
me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of
No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.
I go back to the main groupchat.
me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15
me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3
I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.
Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.
I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.
Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?
On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.
Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.
It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.
Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.
jean: you will do no such thing
jean: @/me
mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit
mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙
mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it
mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx
sashacado: mika get me chocolate
mikachu: maybe. driving
Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…
Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.
I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.
jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine
jean: its acc not a big deal
jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility
Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?
But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.
me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me
When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.
Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.
I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”
He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.
But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…
I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.
Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.
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The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.
Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?
“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“
My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.
“Jean? You in there?”
No response.
“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”
And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.
Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.
Who even closes an empty bathroom?
Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.
Where the hell are they?
I check my phone again and text the group chat.
me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?
Waiting…
lainah: Gym
.
What.
me: are you sure.
lainah: One image attachment
Sure enough.
I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.
me: dont let them leave. omw now
Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.
Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.
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The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.
It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.
Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.
I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.
“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”
“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”
“I said I’m fine—”
At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.
Both look at me.
Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.
“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”
A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.
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There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.
Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:
“Pull over.”
And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.
I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.
Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.
My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.
When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.
“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.
He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.
I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.
When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.
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Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.
“Jean.”
He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.
“Let me help you.”
He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.
“Wait here.”
He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.
This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.
I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.
I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”
The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.
Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.
Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.
Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.
Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.
Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.
“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.
Beep. “For making you do this.”
Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.
“You have your key?”
Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.
The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”
The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.
“Get up, Jean.”
He sniffs.
“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”
“No.”
“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”
“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”
“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?
“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”
“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”
A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.
“Jean?”
“Go…”
And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.
A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”
And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.
Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.
Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.
NUMBER 1 COUGAR
I wonder where he got that.
The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.
“Are you leaving?”
“No, Jean.”
I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—
“Please don’t.”
I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”
I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.
“Can you sit up?”
Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”
“Can— can you help me?”
I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”
We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.
Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.
“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”
I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”
“Wait. Don’t.”
Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.
I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.
When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.
“Let me help.”
He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”
He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.
I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”
He obeys.
“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”
Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”
Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.
Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.
My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.
“I’ll be back.”
Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.
sashacado: omg yall
sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯
armong us: What’s going on?
sashacado: @/lainah what did u do
lainah: One video attachment
sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO
sashacado pinned a message
mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything
jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone
mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness
Deleted message
jägermeister: oh right
sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome
sashacado: @/mr. handsome
sashacado: @/mr. handsome
sashacado: @/mr. handsome
mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry
sashacado: @/mr. handsome
sashacado: ok good
Whatever the hell they’re up to now.
Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”
“Hot,” is all he says.
I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.
Not like that. He’s feverish.
“Can you… help me?”
“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.
Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.
Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.
The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.
And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.
He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.
Okay.
I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.
I almost forget he still smells like puke.
“My pants…”
Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.
“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”
He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.
What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.
“Sit up on the edge, okay?”
He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.
“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”
I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.
“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.
“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”
He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.
“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”
“Pillk?”
“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”
He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.
Is that…
“I can’t.”
My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”
He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”
I blink. “You can’t take pills?”
A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”
I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”
“Tried. No.”
Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.
“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”
“No.”
I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.
“Noo…”
“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.
When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.
“Open up.”
He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.
“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”
Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.
Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”
“Don’t want. Don’t need.”
“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”
“No…”
“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”
I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.
“Okay.”
Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.
All. Over.
I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.
Okay. Good!
Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.
“Be right back.”
Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.
If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.
I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.
I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”
I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”
“I— really—”
“Jean, it’s okay.”
“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.
“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”
He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.
“You already did too much for me.”
“Nonsense.”
“Why do… you do this?”
Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.
My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.
Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.
“Because I like you.”
And I take my time going back to the bathroom.
Cold water. Cold water against my hands.
“Coming in.”
“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”
“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.
Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.
Except for that time.
“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”
For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…
I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”
He takes a shaky breath and obeys.
Fold. “Again.”
He shuts his eyes and blows.
“Again.”
He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.
“Again?”
He shakes his head.
“Let’s try the pill.”
He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.
He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.
He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.
His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.
Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.
Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.
But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.
Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.
He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.
Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—
and swallows with an ulp!
and it’s over.
I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.
“Is that enough for you?”
Unblinking, he pulls me down again.
⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆
Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”
“Shh!”
He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.
“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”
Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.
emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out
emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas
me: yeah try telling Sash that
sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off
intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance
emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa
sashami: you guys shh the star coming
Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.
“Whad’d I do?”
As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?
“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.
The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.
But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?
Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”
“No thanks to you lot.”
“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.
“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”
He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.
Beep beep!
Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.
“Sash.”
“Were you a good host?”
“I mean, I was really sick.”
“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”
“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”
“Is your room clean?”
“It’s fine!”
“Did you sleep together?”
He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”
“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.
“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.
Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”
“Oh, fuck off. Look.”
star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(
star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3
And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.
⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆
would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato*
i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now)
i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.
byebye
Hoshina "shameless bastard" soshiro. That's what you call him in your spare time I mean he truly is a shameless bastard. For example, right now. Having a fox-like smile as he arranged the paperwork he has and a lipstick mark right in the corner of his lips. That's right, YOUR lipstick.
It was only a peck on outer lip nothing more as you gave him his 'daily kisses' or so he calls it. Okonogi looked at him awkwardly, her eyes wandering at the lipstick mark and his eyes which held mischief and pridenes. "Oh? okonogi-chan? what'cha staring at?" he asks shamelessly his smile being more mischievous as ever knowing well what gonna be her answer is. The poor woman only motioned to the outer lip corner of his, "that..."
"I wanted to keep it," he smiles.
"b- but why...?" the woman sweatdropped at his simple answer.
"cuz I can,"
'platoon leader (last name) is gonna be mad though...' she thought as she sweats more on what you'll wrath would be like once you find out. Though ultimately sighing and leaving him alone with it.
Thus the day pass by with a ever so many growing eyes on soshiro. Even mina has to take couple glances at his face due to said lipstick mark. Of course being the ever so shameless bastard he is said it is your lipstick. YOUR lipstick which made soldiers stare at you as they walked in the halls due to how shameless the vice captain is.
That was until middle of lunch they saw you with a handkerchief in hand trying to catch bowl cut male as he dodges your every attempt. A thick mark appears in your head as you yelled at him.
"LET ME WIPE OFF THAT LIPSTICK SHAMELESS BASTARD!"
"NUH-UH! DONT WANNA!" he runs as you try to catch him. In the end, you ended up catching him and wiping off the damn mark making him a bit pouty the rest of the day.
in which he finds an opportunity in your boyfriend's errors.
suna, osamu, iwaizumi, and akaashi
fem reader | cursing | grumpy volleyball players | jealousy | they see their chance and take it | toxic relationships | akaashi's is a bit angsty but its still sweet, promise | i used kenji as a name for readers bf
suna
suna felt like shit; everything was pissing him off today. his coach was harder on him, he forgot his water bottle, and the heat was terrible. he was convinced nothing could make his day worse.
well that's what he thought until his phone went off.
'(name): is this a a good gift set for guys?'
image sent.
'(name): or should I get him a new video game??? thx for ur help rinnie :)'
yeah, his day could definitely get worse.
he stared at your text messages, not even wanting to respond. there was nothing more humiliating than his crush of almost a year texting him about another guy. in all honest, he didn't give a fuck about that sorry excuse of a man that you called your boyfriend.
maybe he was biased, but he honestly didn't care. how could perfect, beautiful you settle for a man who forgot your birthday 3 months ago?
shit just didn’t make sense; now here you are, gift shopping for his birthday. if it were up to suna, he’d make sure you didn’t spend a penny on the man’s birthday. but if things were so easy, he’d gave you in his arms after a long day.
shaking his head, suna typed up a quick, dry response. it wasn’t his intention to come off as an asshole, but at the same time, it kinda was. maybe you’d finally get the hint.
suna ignored the buzzing of his phone as he walked into his local grocery store, he'll answer after buying a few snacks for his apartment. he didn't like ignoring your messages, but he also didn't like your boyfriend.
he saw a familiar, hated haircut as he walked mindlessly through the aisles. squinting his eyes, he made sure his eyes weren't deceiving him; but why was he in the women's care section?
sure, there was a small possibility of him buying you something. however, from what he's heard, your boyfriend has never given you flowers. he walked a little closer, not worried about being recognized because the two had only ever briefly met.
suna decided to pull out his phone; he felt something in his gut screaming at him.
suna quickly skimmed over your texts of you asking which video game to buy him. he facetimed you, making sure his headphones were connected.
"you asshole, you're lucky i'm still at the store," your voice spoke beautifully into his ears (he was ignoring your rude remarks). "yeah yeah, lemme see the video game options."
suna heard you sigh before you flipped the facetime camera, showing the huge display of video games.
he didn't look back at his phone, instead looking at your boyfriend- well it wasn't just your boyfriend anymore, he had a girl looking at him with a big smile on her face.
looking a bit closer, he saw the cause of her happiness. in her hands, she was holding two packages of pregnancy tests, different brands.
now, suna didn't want to assume anything; that could be a sister or a cousin. but his suspicions were only confirmed when she gave a big kiss on his lips.
"you're not even looking- are you at the store?" you said after seeing the background of his facetime screen. you watched as he looked lost in thought, standing in front of a shelf of pads. "why are you in the women's section? actually, while you're there can you grab me more..." when you noticed he wasn't listening, you got a bit worried. "rin?"
"sorry, i'm here. hey, i actually have something to show you, don't get mad.. at least not at me, alright?" you stared confused as he flipped the camera to his back one. now everything he was seeing, you were too.
"oh is that kenji? he said he would be at the.." you lost your train of thought as you witnessed kenji wrap an arm around a girl he was with, placing a small kiss on her head.
you could only stay silent as you watched the two happily walk away.
suna felt like an asshole that he was the one to reveal this to you, but it would've been worse if he hadn't.
"o-oh," you were the first to break the silence. "want me to go say something to him? you know i will." suna's own heart broke a little as he heard the cracking of your voice. "no, it's fine. uhh," you took a quick pause in your sentence, contemplating your words carefully, "do you think, you could come over for a little?"
suna glanced down at his screen, seeing you were already out of the video game shack and into the freshness of the outside air.
"yeah, i'll be there soon. be careful going home okay?"
"okay, bye suna."
no nickname or first name, you were definitely upset.
suna sighed as he continued his grocery shopping; making sure not to get anything refrigerated as he didn't know how long he was going to be at your place.
(he grabbed a few of your favorite snacks and a weird-looking stuffed animal he had a feeling you'd like)
after paying and making a mental note to come back later for milk, he went on his way to your place.
he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he got to your apartment, but nothing prepared him for seeing you open your door with sad eyes and a twitching lip; sad but not wanting to show.
"hey," you greeted him with a nod which he reciprocated, holding up his grocery bags. "we can watch that stupid reality show you like," suna stretched as he got comfortable in your living room.
"it's not stupid you just don't understand it."
and when the show was just white noise in the background as he listened to you complain about your now ex-boyfriend was turned into you falling asleep, using the cheap plush he bought you as a pillow; he felt like he belonged there with you.
even as your phone blew up with messages from your ex, suna stayed focused on you.
(he blocked the number).
osamu
you stared at the delivered message you sent to your boyfriend 6 hours ago, only growing more irritated as time went by. the two of you had a date planned for later tonight at a fancy restaurant; one he insisted on going to and you agreed eagerly.
you had already gotten all dolled up, and even though you didn't want to go on the date originally, you did do your best to get ready, and it was a bit disappointing to not go out now.
time was only getting closer, and there was still no response from your boyfriend. over the past week, you felt distant from him, hence your quick agreement to this date.
now, he wasn't even answering his phone. even after ringing kenji multiple times and going straight to voicemail, you still had hope. there was still an hour left until the agreed meet-up time, still some time for him to answer.
you did a few small room chores to kill the time, only for your phone to not go off even once. there were still 20 minutes until 6pm, and you decided that this date wasn't going to happen.
now, you were sad and hungry. getting up, you looked through your fridge and cabinets only to find nothing.
about to give up all hope, your phone dinged from the counter. shooting up immediately, you grabbed your eagerly; only to feel slight disappointment when it was your friend sending you a recently opened food place, 'Onigiri Miya'.
something was pulling you towards the place (maybe your stomach); sending your friend a quick text back, you decided to stop by for dinner. putting on more comfortable clothes and deciding to head out, still no text from your boyfriend.
the place was located in a good area and it wasn't a far walk from your own home. you could see yourself coming here more often. the smell of freshly cooked meals could be smelled from outside the restaurant doors. the place was rather empty, considering it was a bit later in the evening.
you sat down at the counter, glancing over the menu. there was an older lady next to you, who had a big smile on her face as she enjoyed her food. the scene caused a small smile to grace your face. you looked around a little more, noticing everyone had a smile on their face as they enjoyed their food.
this place felt like home.
"welcome to onigiri miya. do ya need more time lookin' at the menu?"
a mans voice broke you out of your trance. looking up, you seen a broad male with dark hair in the, what you assumed, was the official uniform of the restaurant.
"hello," you give him a polite smile, "could i get a minced tuna and spring onion rice ball?" you watched the man’s eyes widen, before a small smile adorned his pretty face.
“gotcha, that’s what my brother orders,” he held a bit of fondness in his voice as he recalled his brother. you giggle slightly, “your brother must have good taste.”
“s’alright. my taste has always been better,” he said as he gave you a quick look over, making you sit up a bit straighter. “really? then what do you recommend?” you decided to play along a little, almost forgetting about the events from earlier.
"stop by tomorrow, we could talk about it more."
and when a number was jotted down on the receipt, you felt a new chapter unfolding in your life.
iwaizumi
iwaizumi stared at his client, whose phone was currently going off non-stop. usually, iwaizumi hated it when his clients were on their phones during his training sessions; but this was annoying at this point.
"can you answer that," iwaizumi didn't try to hide the irritation in his voice. his client, kenji, perked up from his sit-ups. "sorry about that, man." iwaizumi just nodded his head, waiting to get back to his training.
"it's my clingy ass girlfriend, she's scared i'm out cheating."
frankly, iwaizumi didn't care; he had another client coming in soon and he needed to get this guy out. "okay.. are you ready to continue?" with a rather embarrassed nod from kenji, they finally continued their workout; which consisted of a few more sets and then iwaizumi creating a dietary plan for kenji to follow.
once kenji was gone, iwaizumi finished up a few more clients for the day before he moved onto his own workout for the night. it was normal for him to stay late and the gym owner trusted him enough to close.
he was in the middle of his workout when he heard the front door open. sighing, he wiped his sweat off with a nearby towel and walked to the front. walking up, he saw a pretty girl who looked lost just as much pissed.
noticing the man coming out of the backroom with a confused look on his face, you decided to speak first.
"hey, sorry to interrupt but have you seen a male with brown hair, brown eyes, and about this tall?" iwaizumi watched as you held your hand a few inches above your own head. "oh and his name is kenji, if that helps?"
iwaizumi's eyes widened in realization; you must be the clingy girlfriend.
"we close in about half an hour, nobody's here but me." he answered truthfully as he watched your face fall. "oh, thank you for letting me know." iwaizumi watched as you were about to turn and leave, but oddly enough he wanted the conversation to continue.
"why does he have you out so late lookin' for him?" iwaizumi wasn't one to shy away from being protective; especially when it came to women and his loved ones.
you watched as he leaned over the reception desk, his biceps flexing as he did so. noticing you were staring, you snapped out of it. "we haven't spoken all day, and then i called him and he told me he was at the gym... thought i'd wait for him so we could go do something after."
haven't spoken all day? that was weird considering how much Kenji's phone was blowing up earlier from text messages from his "clingy girlfriend"/
"he's been gone for hours. i'm his personal trainer, iwaizumi." iwaizumi stuck his hand out which you shook immediately, "(name), nice to meet the man who's kept my boyfriend so busy these past few weeks."
"few weeks? today was his third day here." iwaizumi watched as the words registered into your mind. there was a twitch of your eyebrow, nails picking at the skin of your hands, and a quick bite of your lip.
it was a shitty situation; he felt bad that a pretty girl like you was getting played by a man that couldn't even bench press 22kg.
"if it makes you feel any better, he dropped a 3kg weight on his foot." iwaizumi tried his best to cheer you up, and it seemed to be working when a laugh fell from your lips.
"thank you for talking to me, sorry for taking up your time, iwaizumi. I should start to walk back before it gets too dark," you said noticing how late it was getting.
"let me close up and i'll walk you home, if that's okay with you?"
you looked shocked before a small smile took graced your face, "sure that'll be fine."
and as you waited for iwaizumi to close up the gym, you sent one last text to kenji; a breakup text.
it was against your moral conscience to do it over text, but he tested your limits. you weren't even sure if he'd see the text tonight, since he's out doing whatever, but your feelings still stood.
when you and iwaizumi started the walk back to your complex, it was full of natural conversations and laughter. the two of you hitting it off immediately and ended the night exchanging numbers.
when the next day arrived, kenji walked into the gym, iwaizumi made training incredibly challenging. he still did his job with integrity, but he added a few new workouts to kenji's routine, some of which even made the athletic trainer pause when he did them himself.
akaashi
you flopped around on your best friend's bed, burying your face in his pillows and letting out muffled complaints.
"he's so stupid, keiji! can you believe he ditched our date to go get drunk with his friends?!"
akaashi can actually believe it, but he doesn't think you'd want to hear that right now. "it is shocking, yes." the lie comes out smoothly, he knows how this'll go. you'll complain and shit talk your boyfriend, get immensely sad for a few minutes, and then fall asleep on his bed.
this always happens when another male does your heart incredibly wrong, and akaashi is always there to pick up the shattered pieces.
"it's not the first time this has happened either... we'll be going good, and then out of nowhere he just..."
akaashi heard the familiar cracking of your voice, which he hated to hear, and when he noticed you went completely quiet; he knew you were crying into his pillow.
he gently got up from his seat on his desk, taking a seat on the bed next to you. "(name), it has nothing to do with you, he's just a bottom-of-the-barrel kind of guy. you know this," akaashi picked your head up from his pillow and placed it into his lap.
"you need to stop letting below-average men sweep you off your feet," akaashi sighed. these men were lucky enough to have a chance with you. whereas he, who's known you for a long time, hasn't gotten the chance. akaashi is too careful, and he never wants to overstep any of his boundaries and make you uncomfortable.
you sniffle as akaashi wipes your tears and runs a soothing hand through your hair, which only makes you more sensitive. akaashi noticed as your frown deepened, causing his hand to stop his movements, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.
"sorry, (name) i-...."
"i go for these types of men because i don't know if i deserve better," you spoke truthfully, grabbing akaashi's hand and putting it back on your head.
"(name), you deserve the world. it's not good for you to self-sabotage like this." his hand continued its movements in your hair. this time, it's your turn to sigh.
"keiji, you're too nice to me... i don't deserve someone like you." akaashi is stunned into silence, his hand movements halting. this was new.
you use his silence to continue, "you're so nice to me. i can't find better because better doesn't exist when you're near me. i don't know what i did to deserve your kindness."
akaashi breaks out of the trance he's in a furrow in his brow at your belittling words. "(name), you have made me discover parts of myself i didn't even know existed. (name) you make me happy."
he sees as your eyes start to water once again, "but i don't deserve you. every time i start to date someone new, my brain always compares him to you." akaashi's heart starts to speed up. "i'm the one that doesn't deserve you," he starts, "you stay by my side when i'm stressed from deadlines, you know how to tell when i need to get out of my room. (name), you know me better than almost anyone."
it was a sweet moment shared between you and him; two people who have been silently pinning for each other for so long.
he sees an opportunity right now and he'd be a fool not to take it.
"(name), you don't need these terrible men when you have me," his words become more confident as he speaks, "i promise i can be enough for you, my feelings towards you are genuine. never would i even think about treating you as poorly as these other men."
your eyes widened as you looked up at his face, a pretty red hue blossoming over his face. "you.. do you actually like like me?"
akaashi chuckled at your words, "yes, (name) i like like you," he repeated your words back at you.
"good, because i like like you too."
both you and akaashi let a comfortable silence take over the two of you. a mutual feeling of love waiting to be explored lingers in the air.
this was fun to write! if you enjoyed it pls consider reblogging or following :)
Pairings: Fem!Reader x College Au Karasuno players (separately, except for Tsuki & Yamaguchi)
Summary: You make a bet with your best friend and co manager that you can sleep through the entire Karasuno roster, without the team finding out.
Word Count: 8.4k
Warning: reader having sex with entire team lmfao, maybe reader is slightly manipulative at times? I don’t think so but tagging just incase, oral (fem receiving) in multiple different positions, light spanking, p in v sex in different positions, men whimpering lol, oral (male receiving), fingering, thumb in ass, squirting, spit, sorta voyeurism, threesome (Tsuki and Yams) virginity loss (Yams), semi public sex, brief drinking mention MDNI
A/n: Changed my original idea to just y/n trying to go through the roster bc you plus a friend is a lot and trying to write around the team not finding out would be hard SO here we are. Y/f/n = your friends name. I didn’t want to have to think of a random name. If you don’t have someone you can just slot in Kiyoko or something. I also bolded each players name so if you want to skip to a specific dude, hopefully it is easier to find. Enjoy!
“How long have they been at it?” you asked your friend as you were filling up water bottles for the third time this practice. If you weren’t so used to the sound of volleyballs being smacked around, it would probably have driven you crazy by now. It was your second year as Karasuno University’s volleyball team manager and you loved it. Water bottle fill up runs and all.
“Too long,” your friend replied, “I don’t get where they get the energy from. I’m tired just watching them.”
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