Five More Minutes

“when are you gonna join me in bed princess? i'm tired 'n i want cuddles.” atsumu whines as you change into your sleepwear, fresh out of the shower. you look over and smile fondly at him; he lay on the bed, his arms and legs splayed out on the white sheets, his head thrown back on the pillows as he turns to look at you with those hooded chocolate eyes.

“patience sweetheart, i gotta do my skincare first.” you waved a hand at him as you padded back into the still steamy bathroom, and the smile on your lips only grew as you heard a familiar small huff from behind you.

you splash water in your face and reach for the face cleanser, right where you always leave it. going through the motions, you revel in the small moment you have for yourself, even if its just simply washing your face. as you pat your face dry, you hear atsumu’s familiar footsteps approaching. taking your time to properly dry your face and neck, you glance over to see your lover leaning on the doorway, observing you with a smile- not one of his usual knee-weakening smirks, but a rarer, more intimate smile of adoration.

“you wanna do it for me? not being much help just staring, and plus, it's creepy.” you raise an eyebrow at him, a tug in your lips as he drops his jaw in horror at your comment.

“'scuse me, ’m not creepy at all!” he exclaims, reaching over to the sink counter, thumbing the various products before settling on one. “this one right?”

you nod your head and close your eyes, waiting to feel his touch on your skin. but instead, his hands gripped your waist, and your eyes fly open with a small yelp as he lifts you to sit on the counter, and moves himself to be standing in between your legs.

“gotta have my princess comfortable.” atsumu mumbles, almost to himself as he concentrates on putting the right amount of product on his palm. he puts his hands together before placing his calloused hands on your cheeks, softly patting the serum into your skin.

you don't speak and neither does he. you both just take this small instant in time to appreciate each other, how you both are so blessed to have the other, so lucky that you’ve found someone that intertwines with your soul so perfectly.

as he goes to find the next product, your eyes roam over atsumu and you drink in everything you can. the mole that rests just below his collarbone, right above where his heart would be. the small cupid’s bow of his pink lips. the faint stretch marks where his arms meet his shoulders. the way his forearm ever so slightly flexes as he opens the small tub of moisturiser.

atsumu scoops out a small amount, and his fingertips smooth the white cream over your forehead, sloping down to your nose, and along your cheeks. he does so with such a tenderness, it was as if he feared that if he pressed just a little too hard, you would shatter under his touch like glass. as he gently massages the cream into your skin, you hum blissfully and your eyes flutter to a close.

he goes through each step so effortlessly after seeing you do this so many times, and you had no fear of him doing something wrong, especially after so many nights of him eagerly asking questions as you went through your routine.

atsumu signals that he’s done with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, and you shake yourself out of your drowsy stupor, opening your eyes to be met with an atsumu who’s smiling at you with a rare gentleness, a respite from his usual wildness and energy.

“so are we finally going to go to bed or will i have to carry you there myself? atsumu cocks his head at you, resting his large hands on your thighs.

you merely reply by pulling him close and wrapping your arms and legs around him. he chuckles lightly, and a warmth spreads through you as you feel the slight rumble in his chest against yours. his hands grip the bottom of your thighs and he lifts you up, making his way over to your shared bed before switching off the light in the bathroom. carefully, he sets you down on the soft sheets and he climbs over you to get comfortable on his side. you turn to look at him, and he turns to look at you, reaching out to brush his thumb over your dewy cheek.

“i won’t ever find someone else like you.” he breathes after what feels like an eternity of silence, his voice so soft even you- mere centimetres away- had to strain to listen.

you place your hands onto his cheeks, and bring yourself close to press a kiss to his forehead. “and you won’t ever need to.”

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

Hi. So for your event may I request 1 and 3 with Tenya. It's a masquerade ball and he introduces me to his family. He complements me on my dress and then asks me to dance. It's like a forest and wood themed ball and we all have forest related masks and dresses. Just something really cosy.

"May I have this dance" + "you look gorgeous/handsome"

As the lights twinkle hanging from the tree branches, you flatten out your dress making sure it looks perfect. You were going to meet Tenya's close family soon. The ball where you were currently situated at was a gathering of the Iida family and close friends, it only made sense for you to join.

You make sure your mask was on correctly, it's not a secret who you were but it was the attire to be worn at the event.

Your nerves began to take over you, you second guessed youself about meeting his close family. What if you weren't what his family were looking for? What if you didn't stand out enough? What if you stood out too much–

"Ah! L/n, great to meet you finally" you turned around at the voice behind you. You could tell the man standing before you was an older member of Tenya's family, they all seem to have the same navy hair and dark blue eyes, not to mention how tall they all are! The man, who you later found out was Tenya's grandfather, wore a black and gold mask to "hide" his character from the party. As it was all Tenya's family here, there were no secrets to be kept.

"It's a pleasure to meet you aswell" you bow to the older man to show your respect. You could hear a chuckle coming from the side of you, as you stood up straight you could see Tenya looking at you with pure admiration in his eyes.

"May I have this dance?" He asks with a blush forming in his cheeks, he is only embarrassed since his family are going to watch you both dance. You have danced together before, but in private in the castle library to some old classical music that Tenya put on the record player

"Absolutely" you say taking his large hand in yours as you begin to dance to the rythem of the music being played by the live band. You were trying to take the atmosphere around you. Everyone warching in awe as their "little Tenya" has finally found someone to spend his life with and to adore.

"You look gorgeous/ handsome" tenya says as he twirls you around, you blush at his complement. Tenya always let you know how he was feeling. How everything you do makes his day just that little bit brighter, how each smile you send his way makes his heart beet a little faster.

" your dress is gorgeous y/n" tenya complements your dress you got made especially for this event. You are happy Tenya liked your dress, not that it matters since Tenya will always tell you you look pretty but it was also nice to hear it aswell

If it wasn't for his family clapping at the dance coming to an end, you would happily spend the rest of your life by Tenya's side dancing under the illuminated trees in the forest you first met eachtoher.

-> event

-> Prompt list

x : BANDAGED HEART :*+ﾟ

in which: blade finds out you're injured and can't contain his anger.

warnings: gn!reader x protective!blade, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, 'who did this to you?' trope with blade LOL, slight manhandling, did i mention that he's protective?

a/n: blade debut, omg? this sucks btw but this was inspired by this comic that i saw the other day :> it just reminded me that the 'who did this to you' trope existed and i went YES and took my own spin onto it so, i hope you enjoy!

the smell of antiseptic wafts heavily through the air, bandages sit tightly rolled beside you, and you hiss at the sting of the antibacterial ointment slathered over the open wound on your arm. 

it hurts. 

blinking the tears away and gritting your teeth to bear with the pain, you reach for the unused roll, clumsily unravelling them with shaking hands and a blurring vision.

“oi.” a raspy voice from behind catches you off guard and you turn around from where you’ve seated yourself in the corner of the medical wing, having helped yourself to a supply of ointment and bandages. 

a familiar swordsman and fellow coworker towers above you, glowering at you through the streaks of his bangs. maybe if you weren’t on the verge of fainting, you’d have the energy to fear him.

“oh, it’s just you,” you mutter, “can i help you?”

his eyes glance you up and down, as if scanning you for any indication of misadventure. feeling uneasy under the intensity of his gaze, you return to trying to rip the bandages with bare hands since you had not brought scissors or even a blade with you in your haste. 

feeling the blood from your wound drip down your arm and onto the floor beneath you, you cringe, hurrying up so you don’t make a mess. this whole patching-yourself-up-thing should have been easy, but without something sharp and half your strength evaporated after a gruesome mission, it was much harder than usual. 

the growing frustration you were feeling was not offering much aid either, and with blade practically towering over you, you try not to let your fluctuating anger overwhelm you. 

aeons, it was as if you were sent on this mission with elio praying for your downfall. you’re lucky that you managed to get out with only a scratch on your arm and a missing weapon. it’s going to be hard finding a replacement for it, but when you just looked death in the face, you can’t say you have much to complain about that a weapon was the only thing you lost. 

suddenly, two hands sneak underneath your arms to lift you up, breaking your train of thought with a tight, unforgiving grip as you’re effortlessly placed onto a hospital bed right beside you. meeting the ruby eyes of the swordsman, your breath lodges uncomfortably in your throat, and you have to rip your gaze away from him; the intensity would paralyse you otherwise. 

“where are you hurt?” he asks, sounding more like a demand than a question. 

“i can do it myself,” you grumble. blade takes the bandage out of your hands, holding back your wrist that instinctively reached out to grab it back. the glare he shoots you from the corner of his eye placates any complaint you have.

“show me.”

reluctantly, you present your injured arm. he mutters a very quick and quiet ‘stay here’ before stalking off. a faucet is turned on, water begins running from a nearby sink, and blade returns with a wet cloth. 

grabbing your wounded arm, he cleans around the area, rubbing the blood that has trickled down your arm as well. he’s scarily gentle with you, attentive to your every wince and hiss, halting momentarily every time you let a noise slip. 

he makes quick work of patching you up, flawless and effortless in his technique. makes sense, you suppose, since he is covered in these. 

you wonder how many times he’s had to do this on himself. a small part of your heart aches thinking about it.

“thank you,” you whisper when he’s done, gratitude silently swirling inside you. grabbing the bandages and cloth, you slide off onto your feet. “i’ll put these away.” 

stepping in front of you, his body intercepts your path and you’re pressed against the bed, frozen under him. there’s an indescribable look of fury in his eyes, his red eyes seeming even angrier than usual. 

“what happened?” he asks.

you have hold yourself up, suddenly weak in the knees. “just a typical mission, it’s nothing you should worry about.”

the fellow stellaron hunter does not look satisfied with your response. “what do you mean ‘nothing you should worry about’? who did this to you?” he asks, punctuating each word with a dark expression. 

“blade- please, can we not talk about this right now?” you mutter, “i’m tired and i just want to sleep.”

he narrows his eyes. “who. hurt. you?”

“why? what can you do about it now?”

“kill them.”

you scoff. “yeah, right.”

blade wedges a leg between yours, hindering your escape even further by leaning himself closer to you. “i’m serious.”

“so am i. if you’re thinking about hunting them down, then please, don’t bother. let it go.” you mutter.

“but you got hurt.” 

“i get hurt all the time.”

his brows scrunch together, a small indication of the dangerous protectiveness growing within him. you interrupt his train of thoughts, placing a brave hand on his chest; right over his heart. ‘i’m fine. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“i’m not worried,” he grumbles lowly. 

“oh. i see.”

he grabs your hand and takes it away from his chest, holding you gently. “i’m angry that you got hurt.”

you’re speechless, blinking at the swordsman who raises your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. it feels like a promise- not that you know what said promise is, but with that look in his eyes, you know it’s not a peaceful one. 

“so why don’t you tell me the truth? who did this to you?”

the answer slips past your lips before you can help it and when the words are spilled, a creeping guilt invades you. whatever he’s planning, you know that bloodshed will follow.

“see, that wasn’t so hard.”

in a blink of an eye, blade is gone, taking the intense pressure with him. he left so quickly that you wonder if he was ever here to begin with. the lingering brush of his lips is the only indication that he was not a figment of your half-aware conscious.  

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

Part Two

“We won.” The words left Iwaizumi’s mouth. It was the second time he said it that week. Another win for Seijoh, leaving the other team completely defenseless. It was another easy win for them.

Another win, yet another loss in his book.

He promised himself that he’d confess to you after the game. Everyday, the words repeat in his head like a mantra. Everytime he sees you, he waits for the words to leave his mouth, but they don’t. They never do.

He hates himself for it. He wished that he could just grow up and say it. Iwaizumi knew there wasn’t much time before you both graduated, and you both knew that you’d separate after.

He wanted nothing more than to cherish this time with you.

He watched as your usual bright smile stretched across your face, eyes dancing and bleeding with pride. God, he never got tired of seeing that.

“I knew you could.” It was something he heard many times before, but he didn’t have a problem with it. No. He loved it. Loved that he had your support.

There were tons of people that supported him. He was in a powerhouse school so it wasn’t odd that there were lines of people cheering his name. Yet, he only heard you. Everytime you’d scream his name, your voice would echo in his head, telling himself to play even harder to guarantee the win that day.

He remembered you wearing his jersey once. Technically, it was ‘wear your favorite player’s jersey’ at Aoba Johsai. Mostly, it was Oikawa’s jersey that was spread throughout the school. Iwaizumi truly didn’t care that he didn’t see anyone wearing his, until he saw you.

There you were standing in the crowd alongside your two friends dressed in his jersey. He remembered how fast the heat crept up his neck, blooming across his face without warning. How rapid his heart was racing, causing him to stop in place and stare at you with a tilted head. He was shocked.

He remembered how Oikawa wrapped his shoulder around him with a crooked grin. They said nothing but from his posture Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was teasing him. Though, he didn’t care in that moment. He was too happy. Happy that you were there for him. Happy you even wore his jersey.

He remembered how Oikawa faked him into going on a date with you. Well, more of a study session. All of the third years made plans to study at the library, but it was only you and him that came. While you only saw this as ditching, Iwaizumi knew that they did this so he could confess.

He was such a blushy mess being alone and close to you. Especially when you asked for help on a specific problem, his hand lightly brushed against yours as he grabbed the pencil from you, his hand immediately recoiling back as he stuttered for words. You looked up at him and grinned muttering sorry. He didn’t know why you said it, but he nodded. That day he didn’t confess either.

He remembered finding you between two vending machines, crouched down and head into your knees. Your body was shaking as choked sobs parted your lips. Immediately, he kneeled down and asked you what was wrong but you didn’t say anything. You didn’t even look up at him. Iwaizumi was unsure of what to do since he’s never been in a situation like this before. Besides, it was you. You were headstrong, it was strange to see you break down in school.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the feeling of two arms wrapping around his stomach and a head pressing into the crook of his neck ceased him from doing so. You cried into his neck, holding him tightly like he would slip away from your grasp. He thought it was selfish to be enjoying her touch like this, but only pure bliss filled his heart.

Turns out, your grades were slipping and it wasn’t guaranteed you were going to make it into university.

He remembered the wide smile that spread across your face when you aced a test that he helped you study. You took no time to engulf him into another tight hug. Iwaizumi stiffened at your touch. Unlike last time, your arms were around his neck. Your hand placed slightly below his nape. Hesitantly but surely, he placed his fit arms on your waist. For a moment he could’ve swore that you moved in closer, but he wasn’t so sure since he was focusing on not breaking down right there and then.

He remembered the first time he went inside your home. You were down with a fever, and your parents were at work. He took the day off to aid you, hoping for a quick recovery to get back at school. Your room was nothing like he expected. It was nice, and had a sweet scent.

You were embarrassed for having him see you so sick like, but he didn’t mind. You asked him how could he not be disgusted by your looks, he responded by saying you looked exactly like he always saw you. Disgusting, is what you replied with jokingly. Iwaizumi laughed with you, his heart aching with the familiar feeling he’s experienced before. More than ever, he wanted to tell you. But he just couldn’t.

He remembered the train ride home you two took that one day, not walking since it was pouring. Iwaizumi stood, holding onto the bar to keep himself balanced while you sat. You insisted for him to sit down with you since it was still a long way to go till you both got off, but he declined. He didn’t want to invade your privacy. The seat was mildly close to yours, it was definite that he’d accidentally touch you in a matter of time. He didn’t want to go through that embarrassment, nor the apologies.

After minutes of pestering, he finally sat down beside you, his legs relishing the relief he felt from standing all day. That day he learned more and more about you: your favorite animal, favorite food, favorite place, your plans after highschool, he learned it all. From the corner of his eye he noticed your head drooping, eyelids falling. In the nick of time, he caught your head from toppling over. Unsure of what to do with it, Iwaizumi did the most selfish thing he could— He placed it onto his shoulder.

Moments after, your hand found it’s way onto his. So much for ‘invading privacy’.

Finally, he remembered the solace in his heart when he heard you reject the rumors about you and Oikawa dating. You two were growing closer, leaving Iwaizumi as a grumpy, insecure mess. The practices were more tense than they usually were, all of the 1st and 2nd years confused as to who shifted the mood. The 3rd hears already knew, and they were sure why. The rumors had been going around for about a week so it wasn’t surprising that they heard of it.

Iwaizumi didn’t want to believe it, but Oikawa was the golden boy at the school, everyone fell for him. And Iwaizumi was just him. He knew there wasn’t much of a competition, he knew that you were going to pick him, and that’s why it hurt so much. He cried almost every night, refusing to speak to anyone at school or home. He also avoided you, making sure to take the longer routes to his classes and staying ten minutes after school just so you’d miss him and walk home by yourself.

But one day, there you were, waiting for him at the gates. You demanded for him to tell you why he was avoiding you, but he wouldn’t share. You kept hassling him hoping for something to slip out, and it did. In the most snarkiest way he replied with, “Why are you bothering me? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” He pronounced boyfriend in the most mocking way, that it made you sneer. You laughed in his face, causing his heart to break even more. Iwaizumi turned around aiming to get as far away from you as he could, but you grabbed onto his hand before he could take a step. You instantly shot down his assumption, claiming that it was only a rumor, that you and Oikawa were friends and nothing more.

That day Iwaizumi felt like an idiot. He should’ve asked instead of recklessly jumping to conclusions and leaving you in the dust. It was unfair. Mentally, he cursed at himself for being so inconsiderate towards you. Only one thought entered his mind for the rest of the day: I should just confess already.

And here you are, shining your toothy smile at him, eyes ablaze with exhilaration nearly lighting the night sky itself. You were just so alluring. There was never a day where his heart stopped beating for you, where that same crimson blush stopped occuring, where he would try to find open spots in his day to spend with you. The feeling inside of him was overwhelming, the feeling coursed through his veins like it was his blood, like a drug he couldn’t live without. He wanted you. He needed you.

And like he was starved, his mouth opened before he could process anything.

“I love you.”

-

IWAIZUMI BRAINROT OH MY GOSH😫

Waking up with Floyd Leech.

Gender neutral, body neutral reader x Floyd Leech. Reader is not implied to be Yuu. I wanted to add some more depth to my characterization of Floyd, I think he could be so.. gentle, and caring if his romantic love was returned by someone. An eel must protect his shrimpy, y’know? Waking up in the blind hours of the morning, you and Floyd undress each other, bubble baths, you propose to Floyd in all meanings except no rings, Floyd Leech gets flustered from heartfelt words, making out; in no particular order. Warning; mention of past water-burn injury, reader is okay though! 2321 words. … You were barely awake when you felt a pair of very happy hands on your form, picking you up with a gentleness you’ve always known, and you found yourself thinking a very familiar train of thought; Floyd Leech is an amazing boyfriend. Not many would understand, agree, or even expect such an answer, most people would probably call you delusional or gone in the head for even suggesting it; but not many could ever look beyond the surface, let alone bother to get close enough to see all the layers there is to this unexpectedly adapting boy. You giggled sleepily at the raspberries blown at your neck from a smiling pair of lips you recognised the feel of so well; but you yawned and settled into his hold anyway, knowing he would never drop you. He always handled you with a delicate touch, you are his shrimpy! And since he’s your eel, he’s gotta protect you, he could never hurt you. He was always so serious about it too, growing up witnessing the love between his parents, his grandparents, sleeping with the tales about the mermaid princess, Floyd always loved the idea of love, but found that he loved you even more than that. You’d always be so much fun, but then you became much more important than fun; Floyd Leech has always been a bit spoiled, no could deny him what he wanted, Jade would not let them, his parents would get him what he wants, but this was different, he wanted you for good. And whether anyone else believed it or not, Floyd has always been adaptive to emotions, he knew very well what feelings were like, he was famous for the sour moods of his after all, but he also understood it all very well, even the loveliest ones. When you held your arms a bit higher so you could circle them around his neck, he let you, even peppered your face in kisses to go alongside your sleepy smile. You yawned as you felt his hands caress your hair, and Floyd just laughed; he knew you were not saying what others would have assumed, you humans simply did this thing while waking and sleepy, but you were so cute so he’d always let you! Murmuring with a kiss and a nuzzle to his collarbone, You did not complain upon being picked up fully off the bed, this is something you recognise by heart at this point: strong arms and laughter that’s almost distant but so warm to even your sleepy state, most people would be terrified, but you wouldn’t be here if you were most people anyway. His little shrimpy, his lovely little shrimpy; he loves you very very much, you think, and smile at the thoughts that rise as you nuzzle onto his skin, inhaling his natural scent with a breath. He smells like the sea, but so sweet, and just subtly minty, it’s a mix of things that suit him. Underneath the layers of sea salt and mint, he smells like vanilla and ice cream, it’s endearing to think about how well that describes him you think in the back of your subconscious mind. Being brought to the bath was, well, something that happened; you were never not used to it but that was not to say it didn’t shock you at all, it was difficult to put a name on this feeling, but you grew to like it anyway. His steps were quiet as he allowed you to snooze, not even dropping you in the bath; Floyd was not a moron, contrary to popular belief, he knew very well what could hurt people even if he feigned ignorance and was very ‘playful’ about it. Floyd did not want to hurt you by being careless and dropping you, he had one hand cradling your head and the back of your neck; knowing that was the most vulnerable part of you. He blew some cold air onto your face and giggled at your bemused expression as you did the same thing back, gently rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and stretching to wake up your sleeping body, slowly but surely. Floyd gently set you down on the edge of the bath, supporting your back so that you wouldn’t slip, murmuring such a lovely “Good morning” with a smile that was never seen away from you. You yawned a drowsy “Mhm”, blinking and focusing your eyes until they stopped trying to close idly, “Good morning,” you whispered with a smile. Many would expect him to throw you into pools or the bath, not caring; but he cared very very much, far above and beyond the bare minimum. Floyd Leech has always been so much better of a boyfriend than they’d ever believe, there was never a “oh he wouldn’t care” in your relationship, he’d always remember things that mattered; your favourite songs, the outfits that made you feel confident, the places that made you anxious, the people you didn’t like, the things you were too shy to buy on your own, when and where to buy things you needed for you anytime he noticed you were running low or forgot… and even your favourite snacks, you mused as you noticed the fruits resting on the chair he must’ve dragged here to set plates on. Not to say he was never playful; that’d be a lie. He’d set himself between your knees and lift your shirt off you with a chuckle as he watched your gears turn with a blush until you laughed, tugging the waistband off your bottoms while he undid the buttons of his pyjamas in a jolly humm. You’d get in the bath together, with you lying on his chest, a position both of you have always been fond of. The darkness of the room could never be unnerving when you were held so gently by those arms, he’d gently squeeze you every now and then to remind you. You’d nuzzle right in too, lying on your left side so that his dominant hand could toy with your right, always fascinated by your hands. He just loved holding you so much, he’d chirp cheerfully and you loved that noise far more than either of you would willingly admit. Those chirps, built in noises to communicate, he’d had those ever since he was a tiny elver. Noises he knew and used even before he understood what speaking meant, no one else other than you would hear those nowadays; Jade would probably poke fun at him and sour his mood, and it was none of Azul’s business what he sounded like when chirping. It was always you who made him so happy; those chirping noises bubbled up in his throat with affection, he loved you so much he could not physically show you the full extent of his adoration. So, he’d bite you a little on your exposed shoulder, nibbling and moving across to bite the place between your neck and leaning to your shoulder, a small little bite of affection; you’d grown used to it, simply relaxing and leaning to your side so that he had more room to work with, trusting him not to hurt you. He peppered kisses across your skin, happy as ever knowing the faith you put in him. And you laughed with a subtle nod. When your stomach growled the tiniest bit in hunger, Floyd was not the one who’d poke fun; why would he? He woke you up so early, so you got hungry earlier than other days, that’s why he brought food with him like a good mate! He’d reach out of the tub to grab some berries and feed them to you between his claws, yes, claws, he was in his moray form after all. The ‘tub’ being big enough to be considered a pool by most people was made to accommodate his mer-form, even as he laid closer to the edge and cuddled you in a warm bubble bath before the crack of dawn.  You knew Floyd must’ve gotten an idea when you saw the way his fins flapped and his smile broadened. Placing a plump strawberry between his teeth, he gently lifted you on his chest, inviting you closer: That strawberry had no right to be so tasty when you tasted it on his lips and kiss. You let out a comfortable sigh, ever contempt in the way his lips felt on yours, lazily circling your arms around his neck and leaning in, you savoured the moment. He’d place a hand on the small of your back, as if you’d ever stop kissing him of your own will, your cheek rested against his as you sighed, his gills flapping at the feeling of warm air. He’d give you a comfortable hug as he laid down a bit more, letting you lay on top of him like a weighted blanket, sometimes he’d feed you, sometimes you’d feed him, nuzzling noses, cooing at his chirping noises, in love with the way he sounds, you’d ignore the outside world, forget about phone alarms that he may or may not have turned off, letting him love you, care about you. Massaging the oils into your skin and scrubbing away the knots on your back, you’d simply melt into his magic touch and let him do as he pleased. Floyd Leech is a wonderful boyfriend. You’d say at any given chance, regardless of what anyone else had to say about it, after all, they’d pause and wallow in shame when you clapped back, asking them how they’d know better than you, did they think you were nothing but a naive fool? Moments like this made you so proud to be the one who’d tell those people to shut up; because Floyd Leech really loved you so much, even if he was cheeky about it. You knew what he meant though, and it didn’t matter what others thought. You were brought back to wonderland from your daydream-land when you felt him gently wash the soap off your body, saying something about his shrimpy being sleepy; you blushed, sheepishly mumbling with an averted gaze “Well.. I was thinking about how you are such a good boyfriend” and his hands stopped the action with the thump of his heart for that moment, when you looked at him again; you saw his flustered state and widened eyes, only for him to blink and avert your eyes this time. You swear your heart leaps for him, this loverboy has your heart in his claws and he holds you so gently. How could you not love him as much as he loved you? With such kind hands, and he never let his adoration be secret, you were confident he’d shout it from rooftops if you asked; even if he was always shy about it when you got so intimate with meaningful words. “I love you,” said softly, holding so much happiness in such a tiny string of words, “you hold my heart, and i wanna be yours to keep if you’ll have me.” and you meant every word, some would call you a fool and tell you that he was fooling with you; but you’d tell him that if that was a code-name for your long-term commitment to him? You’d take it, and you’d brag about it too. He looked so stunned but so .. relieved once he processed it, never has anyone seen Floyd Leech look so in peace. People would have said it was terrifying, but you loved it, but you loved him too; so, maybe you’ve always been just a different case. You were proposing in all but without rings to him barely the crack of dawn, making out in a bubble bath, after all; maybe it’s fitting that you fit him and his tempo so well; there was not a single other soul on earth or under the water’s surface who could say they were this in sync with Floyd Leech, or, on the flip-side, you. His arms circled your form gently, holding you like glass; it was a habit he has kept from the time you got injured during a shift at monstro lounge, some dumb guppy spilt boiled water along your back and your screams of agony still haunts him, Jade and Azul even now. They don’t let you in the kitchen not because they don’t trust you but rather that they don’t trust the kitchen, if anything. Floyd especially was frozen to see you in such pain, caring for you so tenderly until you were okay again was torture of its own, only because he hated to see you hurt. But he knew he had to stay, eel’s must protect their shrimpies, after all. “As if I’d ever let you go anyway,” Floyd murmured as you nuzzled up to his neck with a smile. Protectiveness has always been a trait engraved in him, so you never understood why others expected Love to be such a foreign concept to someone so caring. “I love you too” he spoke, muffled barely by your hair when he mumbled “ so you better say it back always, shrimpy,” and you obliged. Floyd Leech is a lovely, cheeky boyfriend; and a caring future husband. You mused with a smile on your face, waking up in the dark, in a warm bath, in the arms of this adorable guy, “I love you too.”.

bestfriend!atsumu who gives you his hoodie whenever your cold. you're sitting down next to him at lunch, wrapping your arms around yourself, gritting your teeth to keep some sort of body warmth. atsumu's busy chatting with aran, but when you poke him n you ask him with a whisper 'hey do you have your hoodie with you by any chance? im kinda freezing my ass off here.'

bestfriend!atsumu who doesn't think anything of it; his friend is cold n he's pretty sure he shoved his hoodie in his locker from morning training so its not a problem. so he nods, n goes to get it for you, laughing at the way you grab it out of his hands. but the laughter dies in his throat as he watches you pull it over yourself, a warmth growing in his chest as you cuddle up in the thick hoodie, fisting your hands in the slightly too long sleeves with a sigh.

bestfriend!atsumu who's trying to remember how to breath after you thank him, commenting how it's really comfy and smells like him. he's still in a daze, sitting in the classroom staring at nothing, just realising how good you look in his clothes, wanting to see you in them all the time.

bestfriend!atsumu who now keeps an extra hoodie in his locker all the time, hoping that you ask him to borrow it again- praying that you'll wear it everywhere you go because then people know that you are his. maybe not officially, but there's always a first step.

soft boys !!

synopsis: how they go soft for you<3

featuring: iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsuro

warning: none! kinda cheesy at kuroo's i apologize ahdjwd

iwaizumi hajime

soft soft boy

hes a very collected man with a few moments where he's angry or frustrated. other than that he's someone who has everything under control

everything but his feelings for you

melts the moment he sees your teary eyes as you watched one of your favorite animated movies.

weren't you a sweetheart

"love," he chuckled when he heard your sob, your face immediately buried in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his torso and sniffled. it was kinda funny how patient hajime was being.

"it's okay, I'm pretty sure they'll find a way to save him," iwaizumi reassured as he stroked your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you slowly peeked out of his shirt to stare at the TV, now watching the movie with a frown and tear stained cheeks.

"it was still so unfair," you mumbled almost grumpily, making a chuckle rumble from iwaizumi's chest.

"i know right, I'll fight them for it,"

kuroo tetsuro

you're kind of his favorite person in the whole world and he doesn't even hide it tbh

im talking social media accounts filled with your pics with him

pics of you smiling, a picture of your outfits, pictures of your dates to the last place you visited together

but the moment he sees you post something on your story like "baby" or "love"

he's gone

SO gone

"this picture is so cute," you said from the couch as you scrolled on your phone, staring at the many pictures you took of tetsuro the previous night on your date together.

"you think so?" kuroo replied, clearly not paying attention as he typed away something work related on his computer. he was kind of busy but he always made sure to be around you.

a few moments later, he felt his phone buzz a little and grabbed it, thinking it was gonna be a message or an important email. but it was a notification from Instagram, specifically you.

you mentioned him in a story? clicking on the chat, he felt his heart squeeze when he saw his picture on your story. your story, with a simple caption that said "love" next to his head.

he knew how much you didn't post about him. not because you didn't love him but because you preferred for him to do so. so this was definitely something.

he just reposted your story, quickly typing away before setting his phone down with a smile.

"i love you forever"

2022 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

heaven can't help me now

summary: Suna x Reader. dating on a bet but it's ethical

word count: 4.4k

cw: a lot of kissing, cheating (not done to reader or by suna), humor to ??? to angst to ???, no joke this is all over the place, friends to dating the school player on a bet to fake dating to friends to

a/n: shh

“This is the stupidest situation I’ve ever been in,” you say, surveying the mostly-empty early morning grounds of Inarizaki High. The only noises are the breeze rustling through the trees, birds chirping musically, and the grunts of every student athlete running through their morning workout.

“No it’s not,” says your best friend, the demonic entity who put you in this mess.

“No, it’s not,” you agree sadly. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Getting this over with actually entails waiting until the end of the school day, because you don’t want to face the consequences of your actions and would rather hide at home than suffer publicly in school.

One in thirteen people die via vending machine every year, you remind yourself as you approach the contraption warily. You should be so lucky.

Tragically, the vending machine doesn’t kill you; worse, everything goes according to plan. At 3:23 p.m., Suna Rintarō approaches for his pre-practice snack.

I’m gonna throw up, you text your friend. She leaves you on delivered. You hate her.

“Hey,” Suna says your name, effectively cutting off all trains of thought.

“Hi,” you say. You nearly chicken out, but your pride is on the line. You have to do this. You can do this. You are a badass.

“Thanks,” says Suna. Oops. Your mouth clamps shut involuntarily, so you stare mutely at him while he chuckles to himself, focused primarily on scanning the plethora of processed food the machine offers.

About three things you are absolutely positive. First, Suna is a heartbreaker of the highest degree. Second, you are trapped in a dare to prove otherwise. And third, the way his blazer drapes over his frame and he smiles at you like he’s letting you know a secret makes you feel like a dandelion being blown into the blue sky on a sunny summer day.

Like having butterflies, but instead of merely letting them flutter around your innards, you ascend into the weightlessness of fluttering flight.

Fucking insects.

“Funny story,” you say abruptly, making eye contact with Suna. “I was dared to date you. For over three months. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you but it didn’t seem ethical not to on the off chance that you would, y’know, say yes, against all known laws of physics and aviation—”

Suna laughs. His nose scrunches up when he does it, and his eyes nearly close, and the flush on his face is the same shade of pink all the French lovers wrote about, probably. You bounce on your toes in agitation.

“I know it sounds like a joke but I just really need you to give an answer so I can report back because if I don’t ask you they threatened to dye my cat purple.”

“Isn’t your cat black?”

“I have two cats,” you say. “I knew I shouldn’t have defended you. Asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he waves it off. “Let’s do it. Could be fun.”

“Are you joking?” It’s your turn to laugh.

“No,” he says simply, stepping just into your personal space so he can reach out and brush a piece of your hair back. “Not even a little.”

“Excuse me a moment,” you say, and turn your back to him to message FUCK in the groupchat with unsteady fingers. You are all too aware of his sharp eyes watching over your shoulder while you type the four-letter word three times until it’s spelled correctly. You tuck your phone back into your pocket and face him again with squared shoulders. “Cool. Sweet. Should we shake on it?”

He stretches out his hand. You take it, gripping it firmly to indicate that you will be a reliable and firm business partner.

“Is there money on this?”

“5000 yen from six people each if we last through the three month mark,” you say seriously. “I can give you fifteen percent of the winnings.”

“Fifty percent.”

“Twenty.”

“Thirty,” he says, and you shrug. “But I’m still gonna call it off if I get bored, just so you know.”

“Oh, I know,” you say. You’re still holding his hand.

He changes his grip so your fingertips are barely touching, drawing your hand up to brush a kiss over the knuckles. You want to punch him in the mouth a little bit. It’s not right for someone to be so romantic in an entirely unromantic situation. It’s confusing and upsetting.

“Signed and sealed,” he says. “Walk home with me on Friday, okay?”

Friday goes well. At first, you feel clumsy and stupid, your mind entirely consumed by the fact that you’re fake-dating him. Your friends hadn’t bought that he’d said yes (they didn’t know you’d told him about the bet) until he’d interrupted your morning briefing with them the next day, hair endearingly limp from volleyball-induced sweat and grin sharp and wide. He’d slung an arm around you while you shrieked and tried to get out from beneath him, aggravated by his moistness, and he’d finally put an end to your wriggling by spinning you face to face with him, brushing his nose against yours and telling you to be good.

That had shut you up for, like, ten minutes.

It’s easy to fake it around your friends, playing off an inside joke with him that reads as chemistry to outsiders. One on one, though, you panic.

“So...” Suna says, hands in his pockets and posture slouched while you stew in anticipatory embarrassment. “What do you think of Englebert Humperdink?”

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re weird, Suna,” you bump into him purposely, bouncing off with the efficacy of a tennis ball hitting a brick wall.

“I told you to call me Rintarō,” he bumps you back. “And you’re the one being weird.”

“It’s just weird,” you say indignantly. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Well, I’m weird too,” he shrugs. “No big.”

Weirder, it’s like a ton lifts off your shoulders when he says that.

“At least you’re weird cool,” you offer. “People like your weird.”

“I don’t really care, though,” he says. “People like you, they don’t like you, it doesn’t matter. You’re still weird.”

“Are you talking about you or me? Or the ambiguous you?”

He only offers a mysterious smile in response.

Your first date with Suna — Rintarō — is five days of walking home with him plus the weekend later. He picks you up fifteen minutes late, has a toxic green energy drink in hand, and refuses to tell you where he’s taking you no matter how you beg, threaten, or bribe.

It’s a classic: the movie theater. By the time you’ve finished reading all the possible movie titles on show tonight, he’s brandishing two tickets to the latest in a series of corny action flicks, smirking lazily at you.

“I wanted to see the one with the assassin romance,” you say while he pays for movie snacks, mocking you relentlessly for your choice of filler food.

“The one who pays picks the movie,” he sing-songs.

“That’s not a rule. And I could’ve paid.”

“It is for me, and I wouldn’t let you do that, because I’m a gentleman and a great time.”

“You chose a movie with four prequels I haven’t seen. I don’t think you qualify for either of those.” He shrugs.

“The tickets are bought. No choice now.”

You get back at him by making snide comments throughout the movie, pointing out every plot hole and snickering at the saddest scenes.

“You are a demon and I never should have agreed to this,” he points at you once you’ve walked out of the theater.

“Aw, no, baby,” you say, pouting exaggeratedly at him. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Not a chance,” he laughs. “No fucking way.”

It turns out that being in a couple can be really good for your social life. You get specials at restaurants, so you go out to eat more. You like pissing off your friends with your success, so you invite them to hang out and bring your boyfriend along. You get to know the infamous volleyball team, who are a lot less intimidating when they run around hitting each other with towels than they are on the court.

Sure, the Miyas seem like they’re constantly laughing behind your back, but you can tell they’re bouncing between making fun of Rintarō and of you equally.

“He’s gonna break up with you, ya know?” Says the gray-haired one to you one day, completely unprompted. You blink up at him, caught mid-soup sip.

“Don’t make fun, Samu,” says the blond. “He’s too in loveeeeee to do that.” He tilts his head coquettishly and flutters his fingers around his face. “He told us you’re not like his exes. He actually said that.”

“I think he says that to all his dates,” Osamu muses. “Male manipulator.”

“Male manipulator my ass,” snorts Atsumu. “Yesterday he saw one of his ex-girlfriends and hid behind me until she went away. The man is a simp.”

“Maybe he still has feelings for her,” muses Osamu, staring at you with laser focus. “Does that worry you?”

“No?” You say, then take a loud slurp of soup.

“You’re borin’,” says Atsumu. “Maybe s’why he likes you so much. Bye.”

“Bye,” says Osamu.

“Bye.”

You’re on your fifth date, getting a special two for the price of one taiyaki deal when you actually bump into his ex, standing behind you in line.

“Hi,” she grins at you. “You know he’s a piece of shit, right?”

“Yes,” you say confidently, at the same time Rintarō says her name pleadingly. You sense suddenly that there is history here you don’t want to make light of.

“As long as you’re clear,” she says, taking your hand and squeezing it. Her fingertips bite into your skin. You look at Rintarō, surprised he’s not making any smart quips, but the gray shade of his skin tells you everything you need to know about the situation.

“The vibes,” you say, suddenly. “They’re arsenic.”

“What?”

“Rintarō,” you grab his hand and tug on it. “We have to go.”

You pull him out of the line, stumbling as he goes and giving her a small, pathetic wave as you storm away.

He doesn’t regain his color until you’re in your room, sitting on your bed while he drapes himself over your desk chair.

“So is there a reason why your ex makes you catatonic or should I make one up?”

“She’s fine,” Rintarō says hoarsely.

“Yep,” you say. “She killed your childhood horse.”

“What? No, you’re insane. She cheated on me.”

“She cheated on you?” You launch yourself to your feet, suddenly filled with the power of a thousand burning suns to strike her down.

“No, no, no,” he says. “Sit down. Sit down. It was my fault, anyway.”

Rintarō’s not a particularly loud guy, but he sounds so quiet now that you nearly ask him to speak up.

“How can her cheating possibly be your fault?” You arch a brow.

“I wasn’t a good boyfriend,” he says. “I was really, uh, neglectful.” He holds a hand up when you open your mouth. “It was worse than you think. She tried to reason with me a bunch of times and I wouldn’t listen. We had a pretty big fight and didn’t talk for a couple days, and when we were talking again, she had... Well. And then it was over.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. So, I dunno, I don’t blame her or anything. Plus, I went on a streak of fucking, uh, flings afterwards so I’m not faultless, either.”

“Bullshit, but okay,” you snort. “None of that is grounds for sleeping with someone else as revenge for upsetting her.”

“It wasn’t revenge—”

“It kinda was,” you point out. “And I don’t think you hooking up with a bunch of people after she hit you in the heart with a golf club is really the same thing. If anything, it sounds like you were just... trying to get over her, which isn’t a crime in anyone’s book, really.”

“It wasn’t hooking up,” he protests weakly.

“You’re running out of arguments, Rintarō,” you say. “Anyway. Um. Sorry for being all in your business. Can I get you anything?”

“I don’t know,” he says vaguely, staring into space.

“Okay,” you say, shoulders dropping. “Sounds good to me.”

You spend the next hour with him in near silence. Halfway through, you ask if he wants to sit on the bed with you, which he gladly accepts. The only noise in the room is the sound of the both of you tapping at your phones and occasionally clicking on a video and playing it out loud. You wonder if your parents would be angry that you had a boy in your room if they walked in and saw the two of you doing absolutely nothing.

“Sorry,” you say, just before he leaves. “Again.”

“No, you’re good,” he responds. “It was nice. Really, really nice.”

Impulsively, you hug him. It takes a second for him to unfreeze, but you eventually feel hands patting your back.

“Night,” you say once you’ve pulled back. “Sleep tight.”

“Hope the vampires bite,” he says, smiling toothily at you.

That’s when you become best friends with your boyfriend.

You can recall the nearly physical feeling of the click of things into place, of the way the universe shifted just slightly so you could see so much more clearly. Dates blur into one long Suna session. Suddenly, you find your afternoons consumed with sitting on the bleachers, even if you're not actually watching practice. You no longer need to invite Rintarō to gatherings; he's there when the plans are made. You text incessantly during class and he sits in your desk chair, playing games on his phone, while you ponder your homework, waiting for you to finish so the two of you can binge dramas together.

"This means we probably would've had more fun if we'd watched the assassin romance instead of General Godzilla 5: Part 2," you say snidely.

"Fuck you," he responds eloquently.

He does the dishes for you when your parents ask you to, and you wash his laundry when you visit his house. This must be what it means to be in a partnership. The two of you encounter new problems and adapt, improvise, overcome.

"Have you and Suna... you know? Yet?" Asks one of your friends.

"No," laughs your best friend (the one you're not dating). "Have you two even kissed yet?"

"Yes, of course we have," you answer extremely truthfully. "Excuse me."

Rintarō opens his front door half an hour later. You promptly scream for fifteen straight seconds. He understands.

"We just need to orchestrate a kiss and get more comfortable with PDA," you reason later, sitting cross-legged across from him on your bed. He nods seriously, fingers steepled and expression wise.

"We can do that. Have you ever kissed someone before?" You throw a pillow at him.

"Of course I have. Just because it doesn't turn into schoolwide gossip doesn't mean it's not happening."

"Low blow, but okay."

"Wait," you pause. "Maybe you're right. Not factually, but spiritually. Do you think we should practice?"

"Maybe," you watch him swallow. "Yeah."

You both scoot slowly toward each other, laughing nervously every time the bed creaks.

"So are you..." You start, throat dry. "Um. Am I or are you gonna—"

Ungracefully, his lips land on yours. Your eyes slam shut and you reciprocate enthusiastically, cupping the back of his neck with one hand to brace yourself. Despite the jerky start, you can tell that he's a good kisser, a really good kisser. He sucks hard on your lower lip, drawing a noise you're embarrassed to hear out of your mouth, which prompts him to shift around and put a large hand on your back, kneeling so he has a few inches on you and can pull you closer. You kiss him harder, desperate to drown out the intensity of your own reaction.

Too hard. You think you black out.

When you come to, your hands have migrated into his black hair and he's pulling away from your neck, which you suspect is freshly marked. He stares down at you with wide eyes, and you suspect the expression is mirrored on your face.

"Do you think that was enough practice?" You ask carefully, unsure of what the correct answer is.

"Probably," he says, leaning back. "It'll be fine. Unless you get performance anxiety and drool on my face or something."

"You're so gross."

"You love me."

"Do I?"

You're half-asleep, walking out of your final period of the day when someone pulls you headlong into a dark classroom.

"Don't scream," Rintarō says. You scream. "Exactly. Thank you."

Then he's kissing you, barely brushing his lips against yours, smirking when you pinch his ribs. You chase him, kissing him fully and turning the both of you so that he's up against the wall, his hands loosely gripping your waist while your hands wander to his hair. He tastes sweet-and-sour, like home and like trouble, a contradiction wrapped in black hoodies and burning yellow eyes.

Someone's calling your name. Someone's calling your name, and the lights are on. You blink blearily at your best friend, who's laughing her ass off, and separate slowly from Rintarō. Your lips are wet and you can't seem to catch your breath.

"It's not what it looks like."

"God, imagine if I'd been a teacher," your friend howls and backs out of the classroom, beckoning you to follow. "Oh, the looks you guys gave me..."

"Remy," Rintarō whispers in your ear as he jogs to catch up with you, slinging his bag on. "You're like the rat in Ratatouille. Pulling me around by my hair."

"You are so, so bad at romance," you hiss. "See if I ever do it again."

"I mean, we weren't going to," he says. "But I'd like to."

You punch him lightly in the arm, but your heart's not in it.

Comparatively, PDA isn't hard after that. Your friends make fun of your hickey, which you shift up your collar to hide self-consciously (and which Rintarō pulls down constantly and secretly, for reasons unknown to you), and you hold hands without even thinking about it. You kiss him hello on the cheek and he hugs you goodbye, and you're starting to become hyperaware of the upcoming deadline.

Will everything change the way it did when you asked him to do this crazy, stupid thing with you? Will it all slip away, like a dream you can't quite remember by the time you wake up?

All these worries add up to something worse, you realize, lying in bed staring at the ceiling. You're not quite sure you can make it to the three month mark without wanting everything that's been smoke and mirrors and espionage to be real.

Only two weeks, you tell yourself, checking over your calendar again and again like it'll make the days pass faster. Fourteen days, three hundred thirty six hours, twenty thousand and one hundred sixty minutes. Everything is fine.

He takes you to the movies again.

He buys tickets for a movie from the fifties, buys you your favorite snacks without having to be asked, wraps his arm around you when you shiver from the air-conditioned interior. He likes the seats in the middle, but you nod toward the back.

"Really?" He asks, voice strangely high-pitched. "Oh. Sick."

You don't remember much of the movie.

Your last date with Suna Rintarō ends on the train. The world is a smear of blue and gray in front of you; behind you, arms embracing you almost too loosely is him. You turn your head to speak into his ear.

"It's been good," you tell him. "Happy three months."

"Happy three months," he repeats, the words nearly foreign in his mouth. "And one day. We're gonna be rich."

"And one day," you smile, and reach for his hand, his bony fingers cold to the touch. "Should we stage a big breakup?"

"I've had enough of big breakups for a lifetime," he laughs. "But if you want to, let's do it. Could be fun."

"No, it's okay," you shrug. "They're gonna know we gamed them, anyway. No need to lay it on anymore."

"Yeah," he replies. "Does that mean this is it?"

The conductor announces your stop, one neighborhood before his.

"I guess so," you feel strangely light, a little out of body. "See you tomorrow, Rintarō."

You should kiss him, maybe. Something dramatic should be happening right now; at least an emotional embrace. That's not how the two of you operate, though, and it wasn't anything real, anyway, you try to remind yourself. He won't be losing any sleep over this, so neither should you.

You lick your lips and smile at him, giving a little wave. He lifts a hand, head down while he looks at his phone. You can close the book on your relationship, and it feels just right. The train starts to move, and you turn around and walk home.

This is the stupidest situation he's ever been in, Rintarō thinks to himself.

It's been two weeks since what should have been the easiest breakup of his life, and things don't feel easy.

At first they were: your friends were annoyed but good natured, handing out the money reluctantly but with knowing expressions on their faces. He'd become too much a part of your life to simply pull out, and vice versa, so things had stayed similar.

But he felt so different, and he couldn't figure out why.

"Good one," Atsumu crows when he hears the truth of your relationship. "Really had me fooled. 'Samu, too."

"Was not!"

"Yes, you were. You thought he was playin' a fling again, not us."

"They were playin' their friends!"

"Are we not their friends, too?" Atsumu asks, wounded. "Hey, since Y/N is single now— or always was, whatever, could I—"

"Are you joking? No," Rintarō says. "What kind of question is that?"

"A perfectly valid one," sulks Atsumu. "Hey, mine!" He dives after a stray volleyball, and Rintarō stares after him distractedly.

It's almost metaphorical, the way Atsumu's easily pulled away from the topic of you by the game. Would that happen to Rintarō again? If he put in effort, and he could tell you how he felt— that he was miserable like this, that he'd gotten addicted to the way you tripped over your words because they came out too fast and the way your room smelled entirely like you and to your all-encompassing presence and touch, and he needed it, needed you back the way he'd had you and hadn't even known it— and by some miracle, you accepted, would he take it for granted? Would he ever be good enough for you?

Would he lose even the half of you he held in his palms now?

He's losing his mind, he realizes. Metaphor? In his volleyball? Unlikely.

He casts a longing look at the bleachers, then shakes his head. He needs to get his head in the game.

It's a Saturday night, and he misses you.

hey, he texts you, after forty-five minutes of agonizing deliberation. do u want to watch something? i think there's a ghibli showing at the theater but we can just stream if u want

sorry :( You respond three minutes later. can't.

rip, he sends. You don't answer. He slams his phone facedown on his comforter and lies on his back, his hands shaking. It's not until he rolls over and feels wet fabric against his cheek that he realizes he's been crying.

You feel so distant and only now he knows what he's doing wrong.

Rintarō's fallen in love with you.

"I don't know," you're saying. "I think I prefer the little jelly strawberries."

He can't focus. Every time he's around you, he nearly works up the courage to confess, to spill out every bloody, messy feeling he's had since you broke up and pray that you'll bear with him for it, but he always talks himself out of it. He can love you like this, he tells himself. His emotions aren't any less real for not being validated.

"What do you think? Rintarō?" You're snapping your fingers in front of his face. He hunches his shoulders and leans away.

"I think about your mom," he musters. You peer at him, your face far too close to his. He imagines bonking himself in the head with a thick textbook several times to remain stoic.

"You're being weird."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Walk home with me today."

"Are t— what?" He shrugs. "Okay."

He sits a little straighter. He can make it another few hours. You got this, man, be normal.

He's pretty sure he fails miserably in that regard, but he recalls you looking at him with sparkling eyes and telling him people liked his weird. He hopes you were talking about yourself.

The sky is clear and he's nearly too hot beneath his school blazer. Beside him, your steps are light, taken to the beat of a song he can't hear. Cars honk in the street and dogs bark in their backyards. He bites his lip.

"Is everything okay?" Is somehow the way he chooses to open the topic.

"Yes," you say. "But I don't think it is with you. Tell me." He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them. What is he doing? He's not sure.

"It's really stupid," he says. "Well, not really, I just think it's kind of weird, maybe, and you might not like it. Or me. I guess that's the gist of it. I like you. I think I love you. And it hurts like we broke up for real when we weren't even dating for real. You're a really good friend, and I don't want to lose that, but," he flounders. "If you wanted to try dating, again, for real, I would love to try dating, again, for real, because I think I could... I don't think I did badly, but I want to show you that I can do better." He laughs, quietly, self-deprecatingly, and slows to a stop, turning to face you.

You stare at him, lips parted and brows raised.

In the eternity stretching between the two of you, he feels something inside him crack. It's not a clean break, either. He can feel shards of himself falling to the sidewalk while you look on, his usually icy demeanor revealing the lovesick boy beneath.

You take a deep breath, and he swears he can feel it inflating his own lungs.

"Oh."

+

part two here