#haezen writes!
Text
pairing: lucifer x gn!mc
word count: 1k
summary: you and lucifer get into an argument, and you block him as he's typing.
set in obey me nightbringer (but there are no spoilers!)
To put it simply, you have been exhausted as of late. With the brothers running you ragged, and midterms approaching at RAD, your patience has worn dangerously thin.
And apparently, so has Lucifer’s.
Lucifer:
Did you forget something?
You:
Not that I recall. Why?
Lucifer:
Well, obviously you have forgotten. So, I’ll gladly remind you.
Satan must have been lent you some of his tomes. And YOU forgot to put them back where they belong. Safely tucked away.
They are scattered all over the living room along with the papers you’ve scribbled all over. Come over at once and clean up your mess.
Annoyance bubbled in your gut at the request — no, his demand.
You’re lounging on the couch with takeout on the way and thanks to Solomon, a hot bath (with bubbles) awaits you. If you were to go over to the House of Lamentation to fulfill Lucifer’s demand, the night you had planned for yourself would be ruined. With a glance at the time, you notice that it’s approaching midnight and there’s no fucking way you are leaving the comfort of the couch to attend to any of the brother’s needs.
And the last thing you need right now is to be on the receiving end of one of Lucifer’s lectures through text.
You:
No. Not now.
Lucifer:
It wasn’t a suggestion. Come over to the House of Lamentation now.
You:
I said no, Lucifer. It’s late and I’ve had a long day.
Lucifer:
And you think I haven’t had a long day?
What makes you think I want to come out of my office to see the mess you have left all over the living room?
I don’t think I have to remind you that you’re also our attendant.
You:
That doesn’t make me your maid. Listen, I’m sorry for not cleaning up after myself but I’ll clean it up tomorrow.
Lucifer:
I’m not going to tell you a third time.
. . .
As his message comes through and the three little dots pop up that signal he’s still typing, you decide that you are done for the night. You refuse to put yourself through more of this torture and to get under his skin, you block him.
You throw your phone on the couch, force yourself to stand up from your position, and head to the bathroom to take a bath. The time it takes to undress and get into the tub is almost record time. The water instantly warms your skin. It’s the perfect temperature. Solomon also didn’t forget to set the atmosphere. There are candles lit all around the bathroom which only adds to the flowery scent emanating from the bubbles. You slide down further into the tub until the water encapsulates you from your shoulders down.
You’re not sure how long you were asleep until the sound of a door slamming shut startles you awake.
“Solomon?”
The silence that follows makes your heart start pounding. It’s unlike him to not announce his arrival and peek in to see what you’re up to. With a pounding heart and a lump in your throat, you call out for him again.
Nothing.
The water sloshes and spills out over the edge of the tub as you move to get out. There’s no time to dry off as your nerves start to get the best of you. You snatch your satin robe, a gift from Asmo, off its hook and tie it around your waist once you shrug it on.
The urgency in your footsteps is evident as you come hauling ass into the living room. A figure looms in the darkness of the hallway and you move towards it without a second thought.
“What the fuck!” You shout, pushing who you think is Solomon back a few steps. He stumbles but regains his balance almost instantly and you flick the light switch on.
Instead of being met with Solomon’s gentle and teasing smile, you are met with the eldest brother in his demon form. And he’s furious.
Anger still swirls deep in your gut, but it’s nothing compared to the undeniable rage emanating from Lucifer. You’re frozen in your spot as Lucifer inches closer to tower over you.
“Think you can just ignore my messages? That you can block me whenever you please?” His crimson eyes are glazed over and a scowl is set in stone on his face. It’s at this moment that you realize there’s nothing that you could say to calm him down. And that thought alone absolutely thrills you.
“Why can’t I? Because I’m your attendant or because I’m ‘yours’?” You say defiantly, tilting your chin up to prove that you aren’t scared of him. “Last I checked, I’m off the clock.”
“Last I checked, you are mine.” Lucifer snarls. “Or have you forgotten that as well?”
“It’s pathetic that you think I belong to you and you alone, Lucifer. Don’t I attend to all of you?”
“Pathetic?” He tilts his head and oh, you’ve fucked up. He takes hold of the straps of your robe and grips them firmly before he tugs, forcing you to take a step towards him. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath fanning your face and the air feels as though it’s been sucked straight out of your lungs. You’re hoping that he’ll release his grip on your robe, but he doesn’t.
He leans down to whisper into your ear, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. “Shall I remind you?” Lucifer tightens his grip on your robe to further emphasize his point. “Since you so obviously need to be taught a lesson.”
You hesitate to respond, stunned at his change in behavior. But as he returns to standing tall above you, eyes piercing into yours, you know he’s still pissed. You, a human who is no match for a demon as powerful and infamous as Lucifer, dare to challenge him? As the Avatar of Pride, there’s no way Lucifer could ever let that slide.
“Apologize.”
“Excuse me?”
“Apologize for being an asshole and maybe I’ll let you stay for the night.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. But you continue.
“There’s absolutely no reason for you to ever speak to me that way. Haven’t I been good to you, Luci? You deserved to be blocked for how you acted.” You place your hands on his chest, smoothing down his perfectly ironed button down shirt. His eyes follow your actions, as if he’s actually considering to step down from his pedestal and apologize.
“So won’t you be a good boy and apologize for interrupting my bath? And for being an asshole?” You grin up at him, sliding your hands down from his chest to grab his own, where they are still gripping your robe. “And maybe go out and get me some dinner while you’re at it, since you left my takeout outside in the cold?”
“Do I look like your attendant?”
“Yeah. Though I would definitely prefer you to wear your uniform.” You nod, unable to stop your grin from widening. He’s already fallen for it.
“Get your hands off me. You’re not allowed to touch me until you’ve apologized.”
He listens immediately and retracts from you as though your skin burns to the touch.
“So?”
“Sorry.” He mutters so quietly, you could barely hear it if not for the close proximity.
“What?” You tease, leaning in closer. “Say that again for me? A little louder?”
His gloved hands make contact with your face and his lips meet yours in a clash. His kisses are desperate, rushed, and sloppy which sets your insides ablaze at his fervor. He rarely loses control, so to see it for yourself...
When you pull back for air and open your eyes, Lucifer’s smug expression makes you want to smack him.
“Sorry.” He repeats as he lifts a thumb to wipe your spit from his bottom lip. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.”
#haezen writes!#lucifer x reader#obey me lucifer#obey me x reader#obey me scenarios#lucifer morningstar#obey me lucifer x mc#lucifer x mc#lucifer x you#obey me shall we date
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Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 2: The Same Agony]
Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the love this series has received! I hope you continue to enjoy it. 🥰🥰
Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.
Chapter warnings: Language, slightly more extensive witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, sexual content, this fic is for readers 18+!!!
Word count: 4.8k.
Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.
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“You wouldn’t happen to have any bear teeth, would you?”
“Bear…teeth?” Aemond blinks at you, confounded. You are standing together in the doorway of Helaena’s chambers as she plays on the floor with the children: stacking wooden blocks into diminutive castles, demolishing them with cloth dragons, chanting childhood nonsense songs in a wavering, whisper-soft voice. It is late-morning, and sunlight pours in through the open windows in sheets like rain.
“You see, bears are large terrestrial mammals. Their pelts make good rugs. They are commonly found in caves and forests, eat lots of salmon, and have often been observed—”
“Kindly desist your taunting,” the prince says, though fondly. “Why on earth would you require bear teeth?”
You hesitate. “They’re for…a tradition.”
“A tradition?”
“Um…perhaps…rather…a ritual.”
He flashes a devious grin. “A ritual, or a spell?”
You sigh in defeat. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“You still worship the Old Gods,” he realizes. His single remaining eye—bright, cunning, oceanic blue—sweeps you up and down. He is not mocking, not appalled; he is forever seeking to uncover more pieces of you like shells collected from sand. “Well…that’s alright. We won’t tell Mother.”
“Yes, please don’t. She’d send me to the Wall.” This is an exaggeration, though not by much.
“What sort of spell involves bear teeth?” Aemond inquires, amused, like he’s waiting for a punchline.
“One for protection.”
“Oh? And who do you believe needs protecting?”
You peer up at him guiltily. He’ll hate that you’ve had this thought. “You’re riding in the tourney tomorrow.”
“Me?!” he exclaims, and laughs. It’s an alarmingly beautiful sound; you have to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him, his face or his forearm or his long silvery hair. “You think I need protection?”
“You never joust. You haven’t in years, I know, people won’t stop talking about it. They’re all baffled by your sudden interest. Everyone’s wagering bets. And you’re out of practice.”
“Hm, yes, well if Axel Hightower can do it then surely I’ll manage.”
You’re dismayed; if you’ve unwittingly encouraged him, that makes you responsible for any resulting catastrophes. In your own heart, at least. “Please tell me you aren’t doing this to outshine my dead husband.”
“Logistically, it would be rather difficult to compete with a corpse.”
“You don’t joust,” you say. “You never joust…”
“You know, my Uncle Daemon was known to joust on occasion.”
“Perhaps, but you aren’t.”
“Calm yourself.” He’s impatient now. “It’s a tourney, not an execution. And my match is some Lannister boy, it’s not like I’m stepping into the tiltyard with Ivar Kellington.”
“Right.” Ivar is the son of a house sworn to the Baratheons, and he is positively monstrous: tall, broad, fearsome, immovable. When he spars, he has to face two or three ordinary men to keep it competitive. He’s responsible for no less than four deaths resulting from tourney mishaps. He has a reputation even larger than he is; you’d heard about him all the way back in the Reach during your marriage. People around the court refer to him—with both awe and shudders—as ‘Sir Killington.’
Aemond considers you, always searching, never quite finding his footing. “I thought you weren’t one to shy away from battles.” And then he adds swiftly, just to emphasize how beneath him this is: “Not that a tourney is anything like a real battle, of course.”
“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” he replies briskly.
“Fine.”
He stares out into the hallway with his arms crossed. You stare over at Helaena and the children without really seeing them. Neither of you speak, but neither of you leave either.
“Enjoy your sparring,” you say eventually.
“Enjoy the beach,” Aemond replies, and departs almost soundlessly like a shadow. You tug on your pendant as you watch him disappear down the hallway: the lines of his shoulders, the sheen of his hair, the way strips of sunlight fall on him through windows and doorways. As your grip tightens, the oval of moonstone etches its shape into your palm; the silver chain digs into the soft vulnerable flesh at the back of your neck.
That did not go well. That did not go well at all. You frown absently, your mind elsewhere. So much for my attempted witchcraft.
“Lady Mormont?” Helaena beckons, breaking your apprehension like glass. She clutches one of Jaehaera’s tiny hands in hers while Jaehaerys stomps around demolishing microscale castles. You hope this is not prophetic of his (possible, far-off) future reign. “Help me get the children ready. The sea is calling for you.”
You shimmy the toddlers into swimming clothes, gather up toys and linens and pieces of fruit, and walk with Helaena and her white-haired twins down to the golden sand, to the water’s edge. As Helaena supervises her children—which consists primarily of having flustered handmaidens chase them around while the princess sits on a sand dune and embroiders a green-thread praying mantis onto a pillowcase—you wander ankle-deep in the warm, foreign surf.
King’s Landing is nothing like Bear Island. Home was stormy and grey and fog-cloaked, harsh, cold, rocky, inescapably brutal. Home felt old, hopelessly old, older than the stars; there was no hope of changing one’s life there. The people of Bear Island have been scraping out an existence—forcing an untamed, unwilling land to nurse them at blade-point—since long before the Targaryens ever set foot in Westeros, since before the Andals, since before there was any divide between history and myths. But here…here…
As you stand on the beach below the Red Keep, there are gulls circling far overhead and clear blue skies and invigorating heat and ships gliding ceaselessly in and out of port. This land yields life plentifully, effortlessly. Within the walls of the city there are people clawing their way up ladders every minute of every day, and tumbling down them as well; there are always new futures to be made. This is an idea you could get used to. This is a world you could get used to.
Later, much later—after bathing the children, after lunch, after visiting the sept with Queen Alicent (requiring some pantomimed piousness on your part), after a meandering stroll through the godswood, after music and dinner and dancing—he finally returns. You don’t need to see him come in. You can hear his footsteps; you can feel the room shift like a ship rocked by waves.
“Aemond!” Helaena squeals in glee and rushes over to him. Meanwhile, you loiter by the fireplace pretending to be engrossed in a letter. In truth, you’ve read it twice already, and it wasn’t all that enthralling to begin with; one of your cousins, married into House Manderly, has just birthed her fifth child in seven years and feels the compulsion to tell the whole world about it. It occurs to you that some people’s luck is really quite excessive.
You try not to listen as Aemond asks Helaena about her day, as she prattles on about the beach (but mostly about her insect embroidery), as she gets sidetracked and scurries off and lowers herself onto the couch to finish the aforementioned embroidery. The prince’s familiar footsteps approach you. You refuse to look up until he’s waited several minutes with nothing but the dry, popping fractures of wood in the fireplace to split the silence.
“Did you and Sir Criston have a productive time hitting each other with sticks?”
“There was a slight change of plans.”
He tosses a leather pouch to you. You catch it in mid-air. Inside are cracked, bloodied bear teeth. You gasp in the flame-lit stillness. “How…?”
“It was the strangest thing. I, entirely unprompted, was struck by this intense desire to go bear hunting.” He grins: impish, off-kilter, waiting to see if you’ll forgive him. “I hope they’re adequate, they were difficult to…uh…dislodge. From the skull, I mean. And I wasn’t sure if you wanted them…you know. Cleaned.”
“No, you did well. It’s better if they’re bloody.” You are struck by a sudden, ludicrous vision of the prince practically dragging Sir Criston Cole through the woods for hours—their boots coated with mud, their brows sweated, twigs embedded in their hair—while dodging Sir Criston’s increasingly exasperated inquiries. “I don’t know why you did this for me.”
“I know what it’s like to hold something sacred that others don’t understand.”
From the couch, Helaena murmurs: “He had to close his eye.”
You turn to Aemond for a translation.
“To get my dragon,” he says softly, then gestures to his lost eye: quickly, as if he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to it than he absolutely must. You know it happened in some sort of childhood scuffle between Alicent and Rhaenyra’s sons—every noble who’s ever travelled south of the Neck knows that—but you’ve never heard the details. Unthinkingly, reflexively, you reach out for him, resting your right palm against the mutilated half of his face. He’s so perfect in spite of the destruction his flesh holds like a memory; he’s so fucking beautiful. Your thumb ghosts across the section of scar that slits his cheek in two. Aemond flinches and catches your wrist.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
Gently, he lowers your hand back to your side. Then he grasps your pendant to examine it more closely. “Hm. Moonstone and silver, together, entwined. Curious, don’t you think?”
“Very,” you agree. You wonder what he looks like without his eyepatch, not in a morbidly curious sort of way but out of a longing—a craving—to know every part of him entirely.
“I’ve studied the Old Gods, you know,” he says. “Purely for scholarly purposes. And the Drowned God, and the Lord of Light. There are temples dedicated to Him in Dorne. I’ve exchanged letters with several of the maesters there.”
“I’m sure your mother is positively delighted that you’re writing to maesters instead of eligible Baratheon and Lannister women.”
He smiles wryly. “Aegon has brothels. I have the library.”
“So you don’t spend all your time sulking around unnerving courtiers.”
“Well, not all of it.” His face is illuminated by the fire, amber and scarlet and gold. He reads the nervousness on yours: the tourney, the joust, your own dawning realization of how much he means to you. “Fear not. I’m coming back.”
“That’s exactly what my mother said before she left me in the Reach with Axel Hightower. And I never saw her again.”
Without speaking, Aemond cups your face in his hands. He touches his forehead to yours—lightly, lightning-briefly—and then backs away. He takes several long strides, as if he’s afraid of what will happen if the space between you could be so easily closed.
“Good luck tomorrow, Silver,” you tell him.
He glances down at the leather pouch of bear teeth still clutched in your left hand. “I thought you were taking care of that for me.”
~~~~~~~~~~
When the rest of the Red Keep is slumbering in unwitting darkness, you slip unnoticed back to the heart tree. You have to do this part here, where the Old Gods can hear you; you have to give Aemond the best chance you can. You pour a handful of the bloodied teeth, rosemary, sage, sea salt, and your last few pebbles of black jade into the mortar you left Bear Island with, and then Oldtown after Axel’s death. You hope you never have to leave King’s Landing. Everything in you struggles against the thought of it, like an animal with its paw in an iron-jawed trap. You light a white candle and set it on a root of the heart tree.
“Protect him,” you implore the flame again and again. It flickers and bends to you in the cold night wind. You grind the teeth until they are a fine, pale-pink dust. “Break others if you must, burn others if you must, bury others if you must…but protect him.”
This next part is the trickiest. Back inside the Red Keep, you evade guards and handmaidens to slink inside the prince’s chambers. The man you are regrettably falling in love with—Aemond Targaryen, Aemond One-Eye, the dragonrider of Vhagar—is exactly where he should be: asleep in bed. He is sprawled on his stomach and occasionally murmuring as if in the middle of a very consequential conversation. He is mostly obscured by blankets, but you can see he’s not wearing his eyepatch; his white hair flows freely and unincumbered over the pillows. You are careful not to look too closely at him, only because you know he wouldn’t want you to.
You crouch down on the cold, hard floor and scatter the powder you’ve ground under his bed. No one would ever recognize it as witchcraft. It could be sand, it could be dust, it could never be noticed at all. When you are finished, you flee the room with feather-light steps.
Yet you think you might have heard it as you crossed through the doorway, just maybe, just barely: a creak, a stirring, the prince rising to catch a glimpse of you with his sleep-bleary eye.
~~~~~~~~~~
A Mullendore unseats a Buckwell. A Tyrell unseats a Rollingford. A Westerling gets so drunk he falls off his horse mid-charge and the Tully proclaims victory. Sir Ivar Kellington breaks some poor Massey boy’s jaw. Everyone applauds politely.
Aegon leaps to his feet. “Well done, Sir Killington!” he shouts, raising his wine cup. “Uh…I mean…Kellington.” Aegon drops back into his seat. Otto Hightower glares at him.
You tug nervously on your moonstone pendant. Helaena claps and smiles when necessary but otherwise watches the birds, the clouds, the horses and works on the favor she’s making. The queen is wringing her hands and dressed—predictably—in a rich emerald-green gown. Alicent has always struck you as kind and affectionate enough, albeit in a distracted sort of way. You suppose she has plenty of legitimate distractions. Her husband the king is ailing, rarely seen, unlikely to live much longer. Her father is ruling the kingdom in all but name. Her estranged stepdaughter, a prospective schemer and confirmed dragonrider, is the heir apparent. And she has an adult son in need of a politically-expedient marriage…a son who doesn’t have any spare eyes to sacrifice to this tourney.
You turn to Aegon, who stares vacantly down into the tiltyard with red, groggy eyes. “I know the prince is good on his feet, but can he joust? You know…without his…?” You point to your own unharmed eye in explanation. Aegon shrugs listlessly. This does not inspire confidence.
As Ivar Kellington exits the tiltyard, Aemond comes in. They exchange a look as they pass each other on their horses, a silent antagonism, a taking of measurements. It can safely be assumed that Ivar—a man whose legacy will be built on the bones of the people he’s brutalized—would like few things more than a chance to publicly skewer the prince, but he won’t get it. The Hightowers would never allow such a match. Aemond smirks up at the giant triumphantly.
The crowd cheers as Aemond and the Lannister boy he’s scheduled to joust gallop around the tiltyard, but in a way that is tentative, taunt, uneasy. No one can recall ever seeing the brooding, one-eyed prince participate in a tourney before. As his long white hair flows out behind him like a banner, as he sizes up his opponent with a cool, stoic gaze, people chatter about how much he reminds them of Daemon Targaryen. Is Aemond another rogue prince? Is that primal breed of fear that he inspires in people deserved? You observe the nobles gathered here from your seat between Aegon and Helaena, noting for the first time just how many seven-pointed stars there are: on cups, on chairs, on pieces of embroidery, on necklaces. Queen Alicent wears them constantly.
What do they do to witches here? Burn them?
A bolt of dread pierces through your chest like a blade. No one is looking at you, of course; no one is paying any attention to you at all. But suddenly you feel naked in this crowd.
Sir Criston has appeared to give Aemond his parting words. He grabs the horse’s reigns and says something to Aemond that you can’t hear over the thunderous noise of the audience. The prince nods. Criston speaks again, miming a technique. The prince continues to nod. His mood is evident from his posture: Yes, okay, alright, let’s get on with it. Criston hands the prince his helmet, which is open in the front and without a visor, and people murmur about how Daemon always wore the same style. You think it has less to do with an homage as it does with practicality. Aemond cannot afford what sight he has left to be obscured by metal. He doesn’t look at or acknowledge you in any way, but when he dons his helmet and his hair is momentarily displaced you see it rubbed onto the back of his neck where no one will notice: a fine, chalky, pinkish dust.
He saw me after all. In his bedroom.
You can envision him crawling out of bed and dropping to his knees, investigating while still clumsy and half-asleep, pressing his palm to the dust before marking himself with it. You smile, a solitary moment in a pulsing space.
That has to be good luck, doesn’t it? That has to give the spell more power.
You wish you knew more about magic. You wish your mother was still alive.
Sir Criston hands Aemond his shield and his lance. Aemond asks Helaena for her favor. She gives it to him wholeheartedly: a small wreath of green calla lilies she’s been weaving together with jittery fingers. She waves him off and then sinks back into her seat, silent and remote.
Aemond takes his place at one end of the tiltyard. The Lannister boy—Leland or Luca or Landon or Lyndon or something like that, you keep forgetting—waits on the other. Their horses paw at the earth restlessly. There’s already blood in the soil, the air. Everyone else clears the tiltyard. The seconds tick down.
Suddenly—like falling forward—both riders have kicked their mounts and the horses are hurtling towards each other. The space between them evaporates like a waning moon. People are screaming all around you, and some of the noise is pure exhilaration but a good amount of it is horror, because already people can see it: the prince’s lance is aimed just a bit too low and too far to the left, and the Lannister boy’s lance is poised to collide with Aemond’s unguarded face. Aemond sees it too, soon enough to know but not soon enough to fix it. His blue eye is wide and gleaming with doomed shock.
Before the riders can strike, there is a deafening snap, a cracking of bones. The Lannister boy’s horse plummets to the earth as its left fetlock shatters. The Lannister boy’s lance goes flying, his lips loose a shriek…and his body falls perfectly into the line of Aemond’s lance. The prince’s lance crashes into the Lannister shield and sends the boy soaring off the back of his collapsing horse. The crowd explodes into cheers and applauds. Aemond has won.
He is dutiful about it, honorable about it. He dismounts and helps the Lannister boy to his feet and expresses sympathy about the horse: such bad luck, so unfortunate, although everyone knows horses are prone to such accidents. He bows graciously to the crowd of courtiers who have so consistently ignored, avoided, misunderstood him. And only then does he come to accept congratulations from his family.
Aemond receives a giddy hug from Helaena, a sloppy whack on the shoulder from a very intoxicated Aegon, and kisses on his hands from the queen. Otto Hightower gives him a proud, beaming nod. Sir Criston sprints up from the tiltyard to embrace—in fact, nearly tackle—the prince. In the joyous mayhem, you make no attempt to capture Aemond’s attention, but he does fight his way through it to find you. He circles an arm around your waist to pull you close so he can whisper to you as he places Helaena’s calla lily wreath on your head like a crown.
“I’m awfully glad I found you those bear teeth, Moonstone,” he says, and then he’s spirited away by admiring nobles.
You watch—alone in the havoc—as Aemond is commended by the great families of Westeros, the fathers and the matriarchs and the marriageable daughters too; and you are struck by a sudden and overwhelming sadness.
He is going to marry a Baratheon or a Lannister or an Arryn or a Stark, you think. And any fantasy that deviates from that eventuality is pure, self-inflicted cruelty.
You don’t belong in his world. Perhaps you don’t really belong anywhere.
Unnoticed—or so you believe—you escape through the spectators and into a small, empty stairwell of the Red Keep. You crumple onto a step, entertain the possibility of composing yourself, and then rupture into helpless, pitiful tears. You sit there sobbing with your face in your hands for five minutes, or ten, or twenty, you aren’t sure. It doesn’t matter. No one misses you.
When you hear the footsteps, you immediately know who it is. You don’t even look up. You wipe your sore, drenched cheeks with the sleeves of your gown and stare down at the stone floor in abject humiliation.
“What troubles you?” he asks. You marvel at his voice, and not for the first time: calm yet compelling, soft-spoken and yet so heavy with gravity.
You consider lying to him, but you don’t. The answer is so simple. Now your eyes find his. “I want something I can’t have.”
Aemond nods, solemn, pensive. “I find myself afflicted with the same agony,” he says. And then he’s gone.
~~~~~~~~~~
There is an informal feast held in the Great Hall to celebrate the winners of the tourney. People roam and mingle and eat off of plates balanced precariously in one hand. There is dancing and music, an anxious plucky sort of sound that plays from the strings. Aemond is the guest of honor, although no stranger would guess it; after his short obligatory exchanges with various nobles and fellow jousters, he makes his way back to his immediate family. You are obliged to accompany Helaena, and thus bound to stay near Aemond; all night you orbit each other like planets, like seasons. Sometimes he catches you watching him as you sip your wine, sometimes he skates his palm along the small of your back as he passes behind you, over and over again you find excuses to stand next to each other while saying nothing, while thinking everything, while feeling each other’s heat through the infinitesimal space between you. Finally, as the evening careens towards midnight, he finds you alone in the doorway of the same winding staircase he tracked you to earlier, except now you’re at the top of it. You’re nursing a cup of wine, unnoticed and unnecessary, still wearing the crown of green calla lilies. Helaena is thoroughly preoccupied with a plateful of pear tarts and the doting attention of Otto Hightower. Aegon is presumably off badgering a servant girl somewhere…or perhaps passed out under a tree.
“This is an odd question, I freely admit it,” the prince says, close enough that you can see the ring of dark blue around the edge of his iris like the ocean at night. Torchlight glows on the flush in his cheeks: one pristine, one ruined. “But would you happen to have been in my bedroom last night?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Lying is a sin in any religion.”
“Alright, yes, I was there. Briefly. Very briefly.”
“So you didn’t want to stay?”
In reply, you only gaze up at him, wanting him so badly it puts aches in your hands, your spine, your lungs, the threads of your heart. His smile is knowing and playful and warm and kind. He reads you the same way he pours over dusty, long-forgotten books in the library and you read him like a spell. You want to know everything he’s made of. You want to feel him beneath the innate design of your fingerprints. He looks into your eyes and sees all of this and more; and then he turns and descends the stairs.
You follow after him, your dress dragging on the stone steps. His footsteps are so light they’re nearly soundless. He moves like a storm, like a wolf; you don’t hear them until they’ve got their jaws around you. Torches burn overhead as you traverse the staircase down, down, down. You can still hear the muffled music of the strings through the castle walls. You can feel the pounding of your heart, the blood roaring in your ears like waves. The music fades as you walk, and then disappears; but your heart grows louder.
When you reach the final step, Aemond catches you, presses you against the wall, kisses you so deeply it feels like you’re drowning in him: in heat, in insatiability, in all that long-caged wildness screaming to be freed. Your wine cup and crown of calla lilies both tumble to the floor. His hands are gliding beneath your dress. You’re ripping open his tunic. In the sea of fabric, his fingers find the velvet-soft inside of your thigh and follow it upwards. You’re soaked for him already. He moans, licks his fingers, kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. Your hands tangle in his hair and drag him closer, closer, until there’s no space left between you, not even enough to second-guess this. You open your thighs wider, bite his neck, beg him to fuck you. His fingers stroke you until your hips are thrusting in rhythm, until you’re stifling your cries against his bare, flare-hot skin. There is a powerful, shuddering sensation of an opening, a warm glowing like liquid gold. Reflections of fire dance over you both. His breathing is ragged, ravenous. Even through his clothes, you can feel how hard he is, how thick. You are starving to be filled with him.
“Wait,” you gasp, and immediately he stills. You touch his face, your palm to his scar, and this time he doesn’t flinch away. “Can I see you?” you say. “I want all of you. The real you.”
He hesitates. He reaches for his eyepatch. He rips it away in one fluid motion, like a bandage off a fresh wound, like he’s afraid of losing his nerve. Where his left eye should be is jagged flesh framing a glittering, savage-blue sapphire. You can see the shadow of the little boy he was when he was disfigured and never avenged. You can see every brick he’s built himself with since.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you whisper, your words weightless and vanishing like smoke.
“I never wanted people to pity me.”
“No one pities you. They fear you.”
Aemond asks, mesmerized, spellbound: “Why don’t you fear me?”
“Because I was raised to admire ferocity, not to run from it.”
“You are perfection,” he breathes. “You were made for me.”
You grab his face with one hand, hook it around his jaw, and look him straight in his eyes, both of them: one flesh, one sapphire. “Show me.”
You’re still throbbing, still slick, still roiling in aftershocks as he plunges inside you. You fuck with your faces close and your hands entwined, kissing, moaning, biting, whispering promises that cannot be kept. When he comes, his teeth close around your collarbone to keep himself from crying out; and then he rests his forehead against yours. You remain there together in this dying moment, in the receding seconds, dwelling in them like the last days of summer. Then he steps back and the illusion is shattered.
You let the hem of your dress drop to the floor. Aemond refastens his tunic and smooths his hair. As you find your balance on weak and trembling legs—as you adjust to the unwelcome absence of him—you push Aemond away. “Go,” you say, glancing to the steps. “Go. I know you have to.”
His hands are open, empty. “Are you sure—?”
“Go,” you insist. “Please, just go. Before you’re missed.”
He looks at you like he’s going to say more. Then he picks up his eyepatch off the floor, secures it over what remains of his left eye, and ascends the staircase to rejoin his family in the Great Hall. That’s where he belongs, after all. That’s where he will always belong.
You wait to follow him until enough time has elapsed to evade suspicion. You wait at the bottom of the staircase in silence, in agony, your skin crawling with the echoes of flames.
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once upon a work in progress (akaashi/reader) - one
The first chapter is here! \ (•◡•) /
I was too excited to get to the fluffy scenes of this fic, so getting a first chapter down was hard. But it’s here! Heheh.
The first of what I hope will be many chapters of a completed long fic. (∪ ◡ ∪)
These chapters can get long, so they’ll all be under the cut heheh.
You can find the fic masterlist here!
one.
Were you incredibly lucky or extremely unfortunate to be here?
You kept asking yourself the question, your answer getting tossed back and forth, back and forth between the two extremes like an old rag. Akaashi shifted in his seat across from you at the table, and you looked up from the still blank document on your laptop to watch him do a mundane thing like adjust the position of his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
He looked absolutely beautiful.
You would’ve murdered someone in cold blood just for the chance to exist in such close proximity to the resident pretty boy of the company, but to have the man himself sitting at the same table as you was more difficult than you had anticipated. Akaashi Keiji was almost too pretty, every feature on his face delicately crafted to perfection by a higher power. You could only imagine the rest of him was built to the same too perfect specifications.
He rubbed at his eye under his glasses, knocking it out from its place on his face, and you laughed like you had forgotten he was still sitting in front of you.
“Hm?” Akaashi had prompted you to explain yourself, but you were too distracted by how cute – and still perfect – he looked with his glasses askew on his nose from his movements.
You cleared your throat needlessly when your laughter had died from being the focus of the Akaashi Keiji’s attention for more than a second. “It’s nothing,” you said, when he had deigned to keep his eyes on you. You brought your hands up from your lap and placed them at the edge of your keyboard, as if you were ready to start writing.
But your head was still empty. No ideas. No scene or sequence of somethings that stood out amongst all the others that could be used for your new novel. No thoughts about anything other than the person who was sitting across from you, close to enough to touch if only you dared. And you dared not, not even if you were offered a million dollars for it. There was no amount of money in this world that would be enough to cover your shame if he thought that you were creepy.
You mentally shuddered at the thought.
“It’s not nothing if you laughed,” Akaashi said, after a moment of silence because you had been pointedly ignoring his gaze for how self-conscious you felt beneath the weight of it. You kept up the pretense with much effort, eyes darting about on the plain white page that you still haven’t filled with anything.
“I’ve not seen you laugh before.”
There was something about the nonchalant way he said it that was immensely disarming. That he hadn’t seen you laugh. Why would that be something noteworthy to him? He had dozens of people falling at his feet on a daily basis. People of all gender identities were alike, some subtle and some not so subtle, in how they threw themselves at him. And he had noticed you in particular, amidst all the chaos that perpetually surrounded him for being as beautiful as he was?
You felt your face grow warm from his words and the feelings, the thoughts, the assumptions you were attaching to them, so you sank further back into the backrest in an attempt to get away from him. Not that it worked. Even in the far edge of your periphery, you could tell that he was still looking directly at you.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little more nervous. Or a lot more. You’ve been nervous since you were told that you were going to sit down with Akaashi from the editing department for a meeting about your novel – the one you had yet to write, you reminded yourself again. The one that existed only in your head in various scenes, with no words to pull them out of there and into existence.
But somehow this casual conversation was worse. Having such a beautiful man strike up a vaguely friendly chat in a professional environment was going to give you false hope, if you had indulged him.
“I write mostly horror and the like, so it’s weird if I looked like I was having fun at work, wouldn’t it? I’d look like a sadist or something.”
And indulge the beautiful man you did, spitting out a string of words that sat precariously on the border of professional and friendly. A little of both in your response so that he could choose where this conversation was headed.
You just hoped that he would err more on the side of professional, for the sake of your poor heart. It was too much work just existing with less than a metre between you and him. The longer you sat in this chair, the smaller the space between felt, shrinking more and more as this conversation continued. You weren’t mad about it per se, but surely Akaashi could take a hint that maybe it would be easier for you to start writing if he wasn’t sitting directly across from you?
The more you drank in the visage of beauty before you, the harder your heart worked. If he had a good pair of ears on that pretty head, he’d definitely be able to hear your heart incessantly thumping against your ribcage. It would sound a lot like a child bashing on a mini drum kit unsupervised in the music store.
“That’s mostly true, but it’s not weird to have fun at work.”
Why was Akaashi making it so hard to be around him? He should stop being so nice. He should stop having the ability, or the willingness, to keep the conversation going.
It wasn’t good for your heart at all, and you knew it. The little crush you’d had on him since your university days didn’t help your cause either. All that crush did was grow and grow no matter how much you willed it to cut it out, every stolen glance at the back of his head and chance passing in the halls jolting your heart into overdrive.
You nodded, a smile breaking out on your face before you could restrain it. “Of course! I don’t do this job for the money, you know.”
There was wrinkle on his nose at your response, and you froze. Was talking about money a sore spot for him? You immediately opened your mouth to say something to take back the words that you hadn’t intended to be offensive, but nothing came out.
So you closed your mouth and held Akaashi’s gaze that you still, for the life of you, couldn’t read.
“You don’t think the company pays you fairly?” He asked, his brows now knitted in what looked to be concern. You mentally yelled at your heart to stop dancing, because this conversation probably meant nothing to Akaashi. This concern was likely nothing special. He was just concerned for the sake of a colleague who might be underpaid.
You raised a hand to wave off his concern, a sheepish smile on your face.
“I’m getting paid just fine! What I was trying to say was something to the effect of ‘art for art’s sake’? That creating itself is the means, the function, and the end. There’s nothing more to add.”
You stilled in your nerve-fuelled gesticulation, suddenly acutely aware of your hands in front of your face and quickly setting them back down close to your keyboard. You swallowed again, your throat dry from the realisation that you had just gone off on a tangent to Akaashi and you barely knew him. Sure, you’ve had a crush on him for years now, but that didn’t mean that you were allowed to–
“That’s a good way of looking at it,” he said, nodding sagely, the hand he had pressed to his chin furthering the effect. “I feel the same way. There’s intrinsic value in art and creating art. If not, humans wouldn’t do it at all.”
He paused, for a moment, as if he had forgotten what he was going to say and was trying to remember it. Akaashi took his hand from his chin and replaced at his own keyboard, and said, “I’m looking forward to working with you on your novel, Y/N-san.”
Your brain shortcircuited at his words, but your body managed to move regardless, nodding and then giving a little bow to him before nodding again. “Ah, same here,” you said, inclining your head in another bow that Akaashi dutifully returned in kind.
“Let’s make it a good one?”
The words escaped your lips before you could stop them from leaving. Those weren’t words that you should be saying to a colleague that you weren’t close to, but what has been said was final, and you begrudgingly accepted the fact, pressing your lips shut to prevent more unseemly things from coming out.
You were so uncool in front of him, and you felt the back of your neck burn with embarrassment at how he must perceive you.
Akaashi had simply smiled, the first one you’ve had the pleasure of beholding up close. And he glowed, like the gentle rays of sun peeking into your room on weekend mornings to wake you up in their warm caress.
“Yes, let’s.”
Taglist: @sushizombie @knocklast @kittygonyan @this-kitty-got-claws @sinkix @haezen @catharsisbabey
Please feel free to send me an ask to be added to the taglist!
#hq!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#akaashi keiji#akaashi keiji x reader#fic#long fic#fluff#crack#finally!#after maybe two weeks of just thinking about it#the first chapter is out!#i warn you this will be relatively slow burn#so#please enjoy the ride heheh
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how he apologizes [series]
sakusa kiyoomi
genre: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff
word count: 3.5k
a/n: i’m currently sick so i might just be writing a bunch cuz all of a sudden, my sickness has gotten rid of my writers block??? how does that happen ?? lol anyways,,,im not sure how i feel about this one, but i just wanted to post something. i hope u guys enjoy ^_^
reblogs and comments are much appreciated <3333
(p.s. the ending is silly so don’t take this one too seriously)
HOW SUNA AND MAKKI APOLOGIZE
masterlist
SAKUSA
He didn’t know what to say.
Kiyoomi knew that he fucked up when he saw you fighting back tears with the scrunch of your nose. His heart sank at the sight — knowing exactly what that nose scrunch means— but something in him wouldn’t let him utter an apology, an excuse, or anything. He felt like he was frozen, stuck in a loop, watching helplessly as you tried your hardest to not break down in front of him.
Why did he lash at you when you wrapped your arms around him, knowing he had a bad day? You were only trying to help. Why did he say all those hurtful things to you when you were just trying your hardest to love him?
⋆͛♡⋆͛
Your boyfriend came home to you cooking his favorite meal.
You knew that he had a rough day because Hinata texted you before Kiyoomi left practice. Hinata warned you that there was a ‘storm’ headed your way, and not even he could calm Kiyoomi down. Worried to receive a text from Kiyoomi’s (favorite) teammate, you jumped up from your spot on the couch and ran a hot bath for him. Then, you began preparing his favorite meal, hoping that he would find comfort in two of his favorite things.
To your disappointment, he did not find any comfort in your efforts. He came home and it was like he was a stonewall. You welcomed him home with a warm hug, to which he flinched.
“Welcome home, Omi!” You smiled as he immediately dropped his bag on the floor and began undressing out of his outer garments. “Dinner should be done in about thirty minutes, and I even ran a bath for you because I know-”
“It’s like there’s never a moment of silence when you’re around.” He says while hurriedly untying his shoelaces. Kiyoomi feels his agitation growing by the second and he decides that all he wants is to change out of his sweaty clothes, take a shower, and go to sleep as soon as he can.
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, shocked at his harshness and tone. He then trudged right past you, and without a word, he headed straight for the bedroom.
As you watched his figure disappear in the darkness of your bedroom, you realized you were holding your breath. It was difficult to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, but you knew that Kiyoomi had his bad days. If it were you, you surely wouldn’t say such hurtful things to him; but somehow, you still felt inclined to cheer him up.
There was a big promotional game coming up soon and he’d been practicing almost nonstop. There were many nights that he came home late, but he still– he always managed to acknowledge you despite his exhaustion. But, this was an exception. He had never said something so hurtful to you before– let alone disrespect you by ignoring your affection.
Knowing your boyfriend and his moods, it was important that you chose your next words carefully. Kiyoomi’s tongue can be sharp, but he would never knowingly say such hurtful words to the person that he loves. You assured yourself this as you took a deep breath — preparing yourself to try again.
“As I was saying,” You huff as you stand in the doorway of the bedroom while he’s turning on the lamp on the nightstand. “I ran you a bath so you can relax before dinner’s ready.”
He pulled his shirt up over his head, meeting your gaze from over his shoulder as he threw the material in the hamper. “Did you not hear me or was I not clear enough for you?”
A moment of silence passes.
“Yeah. I heard you.” You respond, realizing that he wasn’t letting up. He continues to undress, sliding his sweatpants down his legs and stepping out of them.
“You don’t have to be so rude ‘Omi. I’m trying to make things easier for you.”
“Make things easier for me?” He scoffs, uncharacteristically leaving his sweatpants on the floor as he closes the distance between the two of you.
You take a deep breath at the proximity, suddenly growing uncomfortable with the intensity of the unfamiliar look in his dark eyes. You think, by the way his chest is heaving up and down, that he’s starting to get angry.
“When have you ever made it easier for me?” He asks with the tilt of his head, like he’s remembering a specific moment. “Everything I’ve done–everything I’ve accomplished– I’ve done it on my own. So don’t ever say that you’re making it easier for me, when in reality, all you’ve ever done is weigh me down.”
You step back, trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over because you don’t want to say something that you’ll regret. That look in his eyes makes him seem like a stranger to you– this isn’t the Kiyoomi that you know. His words make you feel sick to your stomach and you start to feel your temper flare– but what keeps you from raising your voice is the realization that he hasn’t appreciated your efforts. To think that your efforts to support him and his dream– that all the times that you’ve stayed by his side to comfort him in his losses– have gone unnoticed and underappreciated makes you feel worthless. The overwhelming sadness that floods you is almost too much to bear– much more intense than the feeling of anger from your boyfriend spewing such hurtful words.
“All this time, you’ve only seen me as a burden?” You choke out, instantly covering your mouth once you realize how emotional you were getting.
“That’s not what I meant.” He says dryly.
“We both know that’s what you were trying to say, Sakusa.” You sourly point out as you back out of the doorway, retreating to the kitchen.
To hear his last name from your mouth brings him back to reality. Did he really just say that? He blinks rapidly, like he’s starting to process what he’s said.
He can’t help the despairing sigh that leaves his mouth. He follows behind you, only in his boxers and socks, and he watches as you start putting the dishes in the sink with a heavy hand– the ones that you were using to make dinner for him. “I’m starting to think that this-” You gesture between the two of you, “has been a waste of my time.”
Kiyoomi cringes inwardly at your words, heat pricking at his cheeks and the back of his neck from embarrassment. He’s strangely silent because he’s afraid that he might make this worse– that he’ll end up hurting you even more than he already has.
You spare a glance to see him standing stiffly by the entryway but you don’t want to look at him a second longer. There’s no helping how frantically you’re moving around the kitchen because as much as you want to scream at him for hurting your feelings, you would hate yourself for stooping to his level. In an attempt to distract yourself from crying, you turn on the faucet and begin to wash the dishes.
Kiyoomi finds himself fidgeting like he used to as a child– pulling the skin hanging from his cuticles– because he’s not sure how to process what you’re saying. A waste of time? Has he wasted your time? For you to say something so drastic with nothing to follow it up, he’s sure that you’re trying your hardest to keep your emotions at bay. He knows how his words have affected you, but yet, he still stands there and watches as you clean up any evidence of your efforts to cheer him up.
Now, Kiyoomi’s internally screaming at himself to apologize; he’s screaming at himself to just do anything. But he can’t– the thought of you finally calling it quits because he couldn’t just suck up the fact that he had a bad day is making him panic.
“You promised me that you’d try.” You whisper in defeat, teary eyes focused on the dishes that you’ve thrown in the sink–food all over the countertops. “You promised that you wouldn’t give up and push me away anymore.”
It’s true. He did promise you that. So why does he find himself doing it again?
Maybe it’s because Kiyoomi truly believes that he’s impossible to love.
In all of his years, there’s only been a handful of people who’ve been there for him. And there’s been even fewer of them that he can recall by name that’ve shown up for him — to his games —and truly shown him kindness and support. Whether or not he reciprocates that kindness is debatable (Kiyoomi has a difficult time deciding if going out of his way is worth it) but still, he hates it: kindness.
He hates kind people and people who brighten up the room when they walk in. He feels uncomfortable around people who shower him with compliments because he’s not sure how to accept them. He turns his nose up at people who smile at him, even if they haven’t known him for long, because he can’t decipher if it’s genuine. Maybe he’s just pessimistic (he likes to describe himself as a realist) but, if Kiyoomi is going to be friends with someone, he needs to know that they’re real — that their intentions are pure. There have been too many instances where people have tried to befriend him because of his family’s wealth, his talent in volleyball, or his good looks. And he loathes it — the fact that people see him as a stepping stone for their own lives— that all he’s worth is being a connection in their own careers. Is that all he’s good for?
So, of course Kiyoomi’s guarded. He’s been hurt and betrayed over and over again — thrown away once they’re done using him. Naturally, he’s become cold and distant; sometimes he’s even negligent and cruel. But if it keeps people away, then he’s fine on his own. He’s almost convinced that it’s better that way – so that there’s no one who can disappoint him. Maybe that’s the reason why he’s the way he is: why he’s so hard to love.
The real problem is that Kiyoomi doesn’t know how to accept the fact that it’s simply human nature to want to be loved— that it’s human nature to want to love another person. Is it that hard to accept that he’s worthy of love? Yes. He’s not sure he’ll ever believe that he’s worthy of your love. It completely blows him away when he’s shown such unconditional love and care, that his first instinct is to push them away. He believes that he’s saving them the trouble of dealing with someone who refuses to be loved—that he’s saving you from himself. You deserve better, he thinks.
But you’re just as stubborn as he is.
You fight back every time and refuse to let him push you away. When he starts to distance himself, you pull him right back in.
He remembers that one time when he stayed behind at practice until midnight for an entire week because he was trying to deny the fact that he was in love with you. You were tired of how avoidant he’d become, and decided to show up to the gymnasium. He knew immediately how unhappy you were with him because you forgot to change your shoes at the door. The team was practicing their jump serves until you (rudely) disrupted practice. You yelled out — in front of his coach and all of his teammates—that he better grab his things because it was ‘past time to go home.’ No one dared to utter a word, scared that they’d be the next victim. Even Atsumu stayed silent, watching the situation unfold in front of his eyes. Kiyoomi grumbled under his breath about how bossy you were, but he listened nonetheless. When you drove back in silence, Kiyoomi was surprised about how grateful he felt. It was this moment that he finally understood what it meant to be seen and genuinely cared for. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you still stuck with him despite how much he resisted. And he loves that about you.
You cause him so much inner turmoil, but deep down, Kiyoomi knows that you’re good for him— that you’re the light he has always needed in his life.
So… he knows that he needs to make it up to you. He knows that you’re finally at your breaking point and that your patience is wearing dangerously thin.
He’s conflicted though. The familiarity of this situation makes him want to distance himself again–to hide and only crawl out of the hole that he burrows himself in when he has to; because sadly, this always happens to Kiyoomi– he pushes the ones that he’s begun to love away until they finally give up. The ones who don’t give up are those who can’t avoid him–like his cousin Komori and his teammates. But you’re different. You’ve chosen to stick it through all this time.
How can he continue to push you away and risk letting you go?
He decides that he can’t—he just can’t let you go.
Because you’ve chosen to love him despite all his flaws.
You’re worth him giving his all– you’re worth the challenge of him conquering his fear of abandonment. You’re worth all his effort, he decides definitively at this moment.
He approaches you cautiously, wrapping his arms around your middle as he rests his head on your shoulder. You stiffen at his unexpected touch and you even feel indifferent to his embrace. Before this fight, you would’ve melted at the gesture because you know how he feels about physical touch. But the reality is that you’re still incredibly hurt and angry from all the things he’s said, whether he meant them or not.
“Please don’t touch me right now.” You say quietly.
Your boyfriend knows that you don’t like to repeat yourself, so he listens. He takes a step back, letting go of you as he starts to understand how badly he hurt you.
“I know I can’t take back what I said.” He begins uneasily, noticing that you’ve stopped what you were doing.
“I’m-” He pauses for a second, “I’m sorry.”
You stay silent, mind racing as you think of ways to get out of the apartment–to escape so you can clear your head. There are plenty of places you could go at this time: friends you could call and count on to let you stay the night at their house. It breaks your heart to think that it’s come to this– to you avoiding the person you love, but Kiyoomi’s refusal to keep his promise has pushed you to such lengths.
When you turn around and lean against the sink for support, you are surprised to see the gloomy look on Kiyoomi’s face. You hope that he’s not just putting on an act so you’ll forgive him– but you know better than to assume he’d do such a thing. He’s never been one for dramatics.
“I don’t know why I said those things.” He averts his gaze away from you, nervous to be apologizing because he’s never done it before. “I don’t believe it– that you’re a burden or a distraction. It’s not true.”
“Then why did you say it? Because you had a bad day? That’s not a good enough reason, Sakusa.”
“I know.”
“You don’t say shit that you can’t take back. It’s not fair for the other person–for me– to be the object that you take your frustrations out on. I’m a person, y’know?” You hear your voice wavering as you continue on; Sakusa giving you his full attention, unlike before.
“It’s not fair, Sakusa. It’s not fair that you push me away when I just want you to be happy. You do this to yourself.”
When he sees that you’re dangerously close to breaking out into a sob, he wants to reach out. He wants to wrap you in his arms and hold you close; because the truth is, he’s terrified of losing you and the possibility of that happening has skyrocketed. And it’s all his fault.
The tears finally fall and as Sakusa hesitates on whether or not to comfort you, you cover your face with your hands.
He’s afraid. He doesn’t want to disrespect the boundaries you’ve already laid out– you told him not to touch you and he doesn’t know any other way to comfort you. Truly, he feels lost as he watches the person he loves most in the world fall apart.
“I just need some space.”
And he gives you what you ask for.
You left the apartment without another word and he’s not sure where you went. Again, he’s too afraid to ask, worrying that he’ll make things worse. He watched as you hurriedly packed an overnight bag, and he watched as you walked out, slamming the door shut.
When he remembers that he’s only in his boxers and socks, he feels even more pathetic. Unfortunately, Kiyoomi took too long, standing in the spot that he was in as he watched you leave. He stood there for so long, replaying the fight in his head, that he let the bathwater go cold; but he still took the bath anyway because it was you who prepared it for him. He scrubbed at his skin until it was raw–tears streaming down his cheeks because he was so frustrated with himself.
How could he let it get to this point?
⋆͛♡⋆͛
You ended up going to a friend’s house. They listened to you as you told them what happened, lending you a shoulder to cry on. The both of you ate ice cream and watched movies until you passed out on their couch. Because you cried your heart out to your friend, you were exhausted when you finally fell asleep. When you woke up the next day, it was already noon. Your friend was in the kitchen, trying to cook some breakfast for the both of you as quietly as they could without waking you up.
There were multiple things that you were grateful for: you felt relieved to have a friend that you could feel comfortable enough to talk about your relationship problems with– as well as have somebody that you count on when you needed help. You were also grateful to have some time away from Kiyoomi to think about what happened and what you’ll say when you see him again.
By now, your emotions felt more manageable. There wasn’t the urge to scream and cry, even though you managed to hold yourself back from doing so last night, you felt as though you could talk to Kiyoomi with a clear head.
Your friend fed you and gave you some good advice–the fact that you knew you needed space was a good start. After breakfast and a quick shower, they encouraged you to go back to your apartment and talk with Kiyoomi to set things straight.
⋆͛♡⋆͛
Kiyoomi was sitting in the living room when he heard you unlocking the front door. His head immediately whipped up when you walked in and he thinks you’re scared to meet his gaze– your head’s ducked down as you slip your shoes off.
“You’re home.” He states dumbly.
“Yeah,” You laugh dryly. “I live here, don’t I?”
“I thought that you might never come back.”
You don’t know what to say to that because you did consider never seeing him again after what he said. He sat up on the edge of the couch, watching as you placed your keys on the kitchen countertop.
“(Name)...” He calls out, “I’m so sorry.”
You spare him a glance as you shrug off your jacket, hanging it on the back of the barstool. “If you really mean it, then you’ll get on your knees.” You say jokingly, walking into the living room to sit on the loveseat that’s diagonal from where he’s sitting on the couch.
He takes you seriously, sliding off the edge of the couch to get on his knees. You can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, stunned that he would do something so degrading– you swear that this is a sight that you’ll never forget; to see a man like Kiyoomi down on his knees begging for forgiveness is a shocking sight.
“I wasn’t being serious!” You laugh even louder at the scowl that graces his features upon realizing you were kidding.
But he’s persistent in earning your forgiveness– it's the most important thing to him right now. If begging on his knees is what it takes for you to forgive him, he’ll do it for as long as he can so that you’ll stay with him. It doesn’t even hurt his pride, because he already has decided that you’re worth looking foolish for.
He takes your hands in his own, and before apologizing, he looks at your shoes by the door. He never wants the traces of you absent from the apartment ever again.
“Please forgive me.”
Is all he can say, because what else is there to say? He’s already on his knees.
“You’re only forgiven if I can take a picture of this.” You cackle, reaching for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans.
He groans, annoyed.
But he lets you, because there’s nothing scarier in the world than the thought of losing you.
A/N: SORRY THE ENDING IS SO SILLY BUT THE THOUGHT POPPED IN MY HEAD AND I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS!!!! :D
but fr.... imagine kiyoomi begging on his knees...... omg
if there are any typos just lmk cuz i barely even checked for them. I HOPE U ENJOYED :D
#haezen writes!#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x you#sakusa angst#sakusa fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu angst to fluff#haikyuu hurt/comfort#haikyuu!! angst#hq hurt/comfort
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pairing: suna rintarou x f!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: swearing
the hushed voice of your best friend whispered your name. “suna’s staring at you.”
you looked up from your work to meet suna’s eyes from across the room. in an instant, a small grin spread across his face and then he turned back to his own work as if nothing happened.
well, that was weird. you thought to yourself before giving osamu a look. “why was he looking at me like that?” you whispered. osamu only shrugged—the bell rang and students began to gather their things in a hurry. as you stood up to do the same, suna’s shoes were at your desk and you raised your head to meet his eyes.
towering above you, the brunette took a second before opening his mouth to greet you. “hey (name).”
you didn’t respond and started to put your things away in your backpack.
“you’re pretty good at this english stuff, huh?” he began awkwardly.
you nodded. curiosity suddenly overwhelmed you in the moment; “what can i do for you suna?” you questioned almost impatiently as he hovered. you picked up all your belongings and walked out of the classroom. just as you expected, he followed behind you.
the two of you walked through the hallway with some of your classmates giving second glances. “you know, it’s not everyday that the suna rintarou approaches a mere commoner like myself,” you stopped in your tracks to face him. pursing your lips and raising your eyebrow at him, you questioned yet again, “so what is it that you want?”
suna sighed. it seemed to him that you were more uptight than he thought. but he guessed it didn’t really matter if you were smart enough to help tutor him—but the fact of the matter is that he already had an A in the class. he didn’t need tutoring at all, he just wanted an excuse to talk to the prettiest girl in his class.
“i was wondering if you could tutor me, or else i’m gonna get put on academic probation.” he stated while scratching the back of his neck.
tutor him? wasn’t he supposed to be one of the smarter guys on the volleyball team?
“who would’ve thought?” you smirked. “asking someone like me to tutor you?” your amusement grew by the second. you wanted to toy with him. get to break his character, yeah... i mean was there ever going to be another opportunity as good as this one?
“would you say you’re desperate for my help?” you put your finger on your chin playfully only to see he wasn’t very amused at this (carrying that seemingly blank expression on his face like he always does.) “willing to do whatever it takes?”
suna gave you a look that told you exactly what he was thinking. a look that screamed: please just shut the fuck up and say yes before you embarrass me type of look.
tutoring rintarou every thursday wasn’t so bad. after school he’d head off to volleyball practice and you’d go to the library. most of the time, you’d sit in the library on your phone instead of actually doing your homework or studying (but nobody had to know that)
ten minutes ‘til volleyball practice ended, you’d head to the gym and wait for him to come out before walking together to his house. maybe every now and then, you’d peak in to watch them play. usually, his hair would be wet and he’d smell like lavender after he showered. sometimes you would even compliment him that he smelled nice.
he was actually a pretty smart guy. there were moments where you’d catch him stealing glances while you were explaining something; this resulted in you giving him a knowing look and he’d laugh. when he first laughed—like really laughed—you were surprised to find out that he had a loud laugh for being such a quiet guy. it totally caught you by surprise but it only added to his boyish charm.
over time, you began to fall for the middle blocker. at your weekly study sessions, the brunette slowly began to open up to you. even suggesting you call him by his first name one night when he walked you home.
osamu, your best friend as well as suna’s best friend, would ask you for updates and tease you because of the close relationship you had with his teammate. “so.....you and suna?” he’d say laughing, until your cheeks turned pink.
this became the new norm. osamu teasing you and suna giving you mixed signals that made you question everything in life. until one thursday, he stopped you mid-explanation and asked you if you’d come to their upcoming volleyball game. he told you it would mean a lot to him to have someone in the stands cheering solely for him.
you went to the game and cheered him on. at the end of the game, he walked you home like he usually did. he hated the thought of you being alone while walking home no matter what time of day it was. you glanced over at him—his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on his feet.
you looked up at the stars up above the two of you, taking a deep breath while your heart hammered inside of your chest.
“i’m in love with you, rin.”
he stopped in his tracks then and there and looked back at you from over his shoulder. his eyes softened—something you had never seen in his eyes before.
he then turned to you fully with a smile. he broke the silence, “i was waiting for you to finally say something.” his nose and cheeks were rosy from the cold winter air.
and to you, he was so beautiful. but he was the most beautiful when he truly showed himself to you in moments like this with no one around.
you rolled your eyes and elbowed his side as you walked past him. “you’re so mean!” all he did was laugh.
you didn’t expect him to respond in such a way but you were happy he didn’t respond negatively.
“yeah, but you love me anyways.” he shrugged nonchalantly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.
you wished a moment like this would last forever.
#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintarou#suna rintaro drabbles#suna rintaro scenarios#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#inarizaki#suna x reader#haezen writes!
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2:17 AM
“do you even know what time it is?!”
SHOYO is standing at your front door.
his cheeks and nose are red from the cold and he’s covered in snow. there’s even snow stuck in his fluffy hair. his freezing cold hands are shoved deep into the pockets of the black coat he’s wearing— zipped up all the way as he tries to hide his mouth and chin under the collar of his shirt for warmth.
“hi.” he breathes out and you know you’re doomed.
because when he’s staring right back at you with stars in those big brown eyes of his and a sheepish smile on his beautiful face, you realize that it’s incredibly hard to be mad at SHOYO.
“what are you doing here?”
“s’wanted to see you.” he admits bashfully, looking at you through his eyelashes. he knows now, after months of unknowingly doing that—that this move will never fail to win you over.
“hurry up and get inside before i change my mind.” you grumble, moving to the side so he can squeeze past. in an instant, his eyes light up even brighter than before — if that’s even possible — and his smile is so wide that his eyes smile with him.
as you close and lock the door behind him, he’s already shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the rack that’s hung up on the wall. you think that by the way he’s moving, he must’ve been wanting to come over all day.
“you woke me up, y’know.”
“oh, did i?” he asks, pretending to be sly about it. “i thought you’d be awake since you usually stay up so late.” he mutters out the side of his mouth while hastily untying his shoes. (he’s having a hard time because his fingers are numb from the cold)
“ok..well,” you cross your arms over your chest, watching as he places his shoes on the shoe rack. “i’m going back to bed.”
this is routine.
he follows behind as you walk into your bedroom. usually when SHOYO comes over to sleep in your bed, he’ll try to make small talk or ask how your day was, what you ate or if you had to deal with anything inconvenient at work. you’ll humor him, telling him every miniscule detail as he strips out of his outside clothes and change into the clothes he’s left behind at your place for this exact reason.
by the time he’s changed clothes and is settling into the bed, he already has something sweet to whisper in your ear.
“i missed you today.” SHOYO whispers as he wraps his arms around you, cold hands sliding under your shirt and resting on your skin for warmth.
you shriek out his name and complain, but the both of you know how much you enjoy his touch — despite how cold his hands might be.
and as he plants sweet kisses down your neck and whispers how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, you know deep down that there will never be a time where you will be able to deny him.
#babygirl shoyo#he's so cute i love him#he KNOWS he can always get his way#timeskip!hinata#msby!hinata#hinata shoyo#hinata shoyo x reader#haikyuu!!#hq!! drabble#hinata drabble#hq!!#haikyuu x reader#hq fluff#haezen writes!
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a/n: OKAYY IM SLOWLY COMING BACK im defrosting my writing skills ... they're frozen
(not proofread mb)
belphegor x gn!mc
2:56 A.M.
The perfect time for a late-night snack.
You make your way to the kitchen and try to be as quiet as possible, so as to not disturb any of the demon brothers ‘peacefully’ sleeping in their rooms. Though it’s useless because you can hear Levi screaming at his teammates behind a closed door. That was normal for the third-born. If you listen carefully, you can also hear a faint tune playing all the way from behind Lucifer’s door up in his study.
You tip-toe to the kitchen and peek around the corner to ensure Beel isn’t already inside rummaging around for scraps. Aaand he’s nowhere to be seen. Perfect.
During your time down in the Devildom with the demon brothers, you have noticed that there's rarely a day that passes where there are snacks for you to enjoy at night. Luckily, tonight seems to be an exception because a singular cookie is sitting smack dab in the middle of the kitchen island. Your favorite flavor.
You creep towards it to inspect it. How could this be?
There’s not a single letter, mark, or name written on the wrapper. There’s also no ignoring the convenient absence of any note that would indicate not to eat it. Surely with Beel’s senses, he would have been able to sniff this cookie out in his sleep. It’s a miracle that the cookie has lasted this long.
The growling of your stomach pulls you out of your thoughts. Nobody would miss this cookie if it was gone, right? There’s no time to debate or allow your conscience to take over because before you know it, you’ve already taken a ginormous bite out of the cookie. And it tastes absolutely divine. It tastes so heavenly that you can’t help but close your eyes to savor the flavors that overwhelm your taste buds. Have you ever had a cookie that tasted so good?
The bliss you’re experiencing from a singular bite out of this godly cookie comes to an abrupt end.
Creeaaak!
Oh, god. Please don’t be a ghost. You think as you peek around the kitchen door. Nobody’s there. You assure yourself. Everybody is busy or asleep. This house is just really old so of course it’s going to be creaky.
You take another bite and it’s just as good as the first. So maybe a moan escaped from your mouth? It tastes so good that you don’t care if any of the brothers heard you.
A glass of milk would go perfectly with this cookie. Even though it tastes amazing on its own, it’s kinda making your mouth go dry. You fling open the fridge door to grab the carton of milk – nearly empty.
With no one around to chastise you, you unscrew the cap and take a swig right from the container. As you begin to slowly shut the fridge and screw the cap back on, a dark figure is directly behind the previously open fridge door.
You want to scream but with your mouth full, you end up spitting milk straight into their face.
“What the fuck!” He yells with his hands outstretched in shock as he looks down at the floor.
“Belphie?” You whisper in disbelief, trying to calm your rapidly pounding heart. You want to feel bad for the demon because he's now soaking wet. But…you don’t because he scared the shit out of you while you were peacefully minding your business. He deserved it.
Ever since you told the demon brothers about Halloween and all of its traditions that you participated in up in the human world, the brothers have been tirelessly working to make it possible for you to celebrate the holiday in the Devildom too. Belphegor must have thought that scaring the shit out of you was perfectly in season. The thought of him planning the scare makes you wanna slap him. (Not that it’d hurt him, but just to get your point across that you didn’t exactly appreciate the gesture)
As your attack left him, his face, and his hair soaking wet, he’s forced to brush his bangs back out of his face to see properly. He tries to adjust to your unexpected reaction to his prank, but he could have never expected to be standing right in the splash-zone.
“Why would you DO that!” You whisper-yell and lightly push him backwards.
“I wasn’t expecting you to spit all over me!” Belphie groans in his defense, regaining his balance from your shove. “I was just trying to give you a good little scare.”
You slam the fridge door shut and shake the milk carton in front of his face. “You want the rest? Because I sure am tempted to dump the rest over you, you jerk!”
“Are you trying to get on my bad side?”
“Are YOU trying to get on mine?!”
“Ah, right.” He laughs and snags a hand towel from the counter to dab his face dry. “Well…I don’t suppose you want to help me?”
“Surely you’re joking?” You set the carton down by your half-eaten cookie on the counter. “You want help, Belphie? I can help you plenty!”
The look on his face sours at your sarcastic tone. He’s about to roll his eyes but the sensation of your warm hands coming into contact with the wet clothes on his skin forces him into giving you his full attention.
You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer, sticking out your tongue to lick his cheek. Belphie recoils in disgust but you don’t miss the slight tinge of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.
“You’re fucking disgusting!” He complains as he throws his head back. As he’s lifting his hands up to try and push you away, you lean in even closer to continue your assault. “Hey!”
“You asked for it!”
Giggles and loud protests from the both of you fill the kitchen. Neither of you want to let the other win. As the fight continues on, the louder his squeals and your laughter become.
You sneak in a particularly wet lick on his jaw and as he cringes away, his foot slips out from beneath him. In the blink of an eye, you've fallen on top of the seventh-born. The fiery look behind his violet eyes and the slowly growing smirk on his face (as he plots revenge) makes you want to kiss him.
“Oh, you’re so in for it now [Name].”
“I would say that the BOTH of you are in for it now.”
At the sound of Lucifer’s voice, you scramble off of Belphie immediately. Heat floods your body and when you meet Belphegor’s eyes, they are just as wide as your own. The apologetic smile he offers you in the midst of being caught immediately steels your nerves.
“If this kitchen is not cleaner than before you entered it in approximately ten minutes, both of you will deeply regret having left the comfort of your rooms tonight.”
"Yes sirrrr..."
#haezen writes!#obey me x reader#belphegor x reader#obey me fluff#obey me belphegor#om! belphie#shall we date belphegor#belphegor x you#belphie x reader#obey me belphie
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more slytherin sakusa kiyoomi please 🥹
hi anon! this one had been in the works for a while, but you inspired me to finish. thanks for sending in a request ily.
ATTENTION: read this part first because it will make more sense. but, if you read this part alone, i guess it will still work on its own.
pairing: slytherin!sakusa kiyoomi x reader
genre: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff
wordcount: 3.6k
happy reading <3
masterlist
You and your best friend, Hanamaki Takahiro, were currently standing together underneath the pavilion with the sole purpose of watching your mutual friends on the Slytherin team.
The players were waiting for the rainstorm to pass before resuming their practice: all huddled around in a circle with their hoods up. It was nearly impossible to see past the rain due to the force of the wind and rain whipping around the pavilion the two of you stood under.
Makki had suggested that the two of you go watch your friends practice this week because they had a big game coming up soon. You had nothing better to do and Oikawa had begged you to come watch him specifically as he claimed he needed your praise to calm his nerves. He made a scene of asking you, even going as far as bending down on one knee with a rose he had conjured up on the spot—his crazy, romantic gestures always made you laugh and you couldn’t help but accept knowing that he simply just wanted you to feel included in something he loved.
You squint your eyes with the intention of trying to tell the players apart, but with the intensity of the rainstorm, you found it difficult.
“Looking for someone in particular, aren’t you?” Hanamaki smirked knowingly, nudging your shoulder with enough force to make you lose your balance.
“I swear, one day I might just strangle you in your sleep. Then, you’ll really regret ever being mean to me.”
As you regained your balance from Makki’s shove, you huffed in frustration at how observant he could be.
“Oh, but I thought you could handle a little roughin’ up?” Makki sported a shit-eating grin with the quirk of his brow. “Can’t you, (Name)?”
He cackled as you reared your fist back to punch him in the chest. Although you made a show of winding your fist back to hit him, when your fist made contact, you put no real strength behind it. He cackles even louder when you pout and are unable to respond with a witty comment like you usually would. It’s like he’s proud of himself for bringing up your sworn-to-death secret; you can only side eye him from your peripheral, trying to move on from the topic at hand as soon as possible.
You fight off the urge to scrunch your nose up in shame as you recall the truth you confessed to your friends when playing Truth or Dare a couple months ago.
“What’s something you’ve never told anybody else?” Oikawa looks in your direction after he reads a ‘Truth’ question off a card.
You and your friends sat in a circle on the floor, surrounded by the darkness of the Slytherin commons; it was extremely late at night, but there was no stopping Makki and Mattsun once they set their minds on something. The only light in the room was the dim light from the logs that were burning in the fireplace. You sat across from Oikawa, staring blankly at the floor, desperately trying to think of something shallow to say in response.
“(Name), make it something juicy or else you’re wasting my and Mattsun’s precious time.” Makki, who was sitting on your left, leaned in close enough for his warm breath to fan your face and you covered it on instinct.
“Oh god…okay.”
You spread your fingers apart to peek at your friends who were anxiously waiting for your answer.
“I’ll spill. But only if you guys promise to never bring it up again.” You tore your hands from your face and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to accept the ugly fact that you’re going to tell all of your closest friends one of your biggest fantasies.
Sugawara and Kuroo both nodded in your direction while Makki and Mattsun shared knowing looks; a look that meant they’d store this information in their memory forever. You groaned at the realization but carried on anyway.
“(Name)-chan, it stays between us. Promise.”Oikawa smiled and extended his pinky towards you. You returned the smile and graciously wrapped your own around his to seal the promise.
“Okay, so…”
“(NAME)!” Mattsun shouts when he realizes you’re trying to stall; he’s extremely impatient in every aspect of life, even when playing a simple game of Truth or Dare. He groans, stretches his legs out dramatically, and falls backwards to lay on his back. You seize the opportunity to playfully slap his stomach, which causes him to immediately roll over to avoid another.
“My truth is…that I secretly want someone to maybe…manhandle me?” You hesitated as you spoke each word, eyes flickering to each of your friends' faces to gauge their reactions. They all burst out in a laughter so contagious that you couldn’t help but join in with a laugh of your own.
Makki especially found this confession of yours the funniest, considering he was the only one who knew the person you secretly wished to ‘manhandle’ you.
“I told you to never bring that up again, you idiot!” You groan as you cover your red face, not wanting to see Makki’s teasing eyes and wide smile.
One of Makki’s most notable traits is his brilliant memory – he never fails to forget the things you thought you told him in confidence, bringing up something you forgot you told him in the first place.
Since he’s been your best friend for so long, you know he truly meant no harm in teasing you. When he remembers the shocked expression that crossed your face just a moment ago, he clutches his aching stomach and wipes the tears that threatened to fall from his fit of laughter.
“I really can’t stand you.”
“That was so good, really. The look on your face was priceless. I wish Suna was over here to capture it.”
You cross your arms over your chest and give him a glare.
“You remember that dare that you never did?”
“Yeah?” You ask hesitantly, afraid of what Makki might say next.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers while motioning his head towards the group of guys huddled around for cover near the field. You followed the direction he tilted his head towards, only for them to land on Sakusa Kiyoomi, your year-long crush. You met your best friend’s honeyed-colored eyes with a stony glare, watching as his smirk grew to the cheesiest grin you’d ever seen on his face.
“I think I got a perfect dare for you. I’m redeeming it now.”
“Now?!” You yell in disbelief.
The team turns around to find the source of the noise, and even over the sound of rain, your voice carries over. You can’t help but look for Sakusa amongst everyone, and surely enough, you catch his attention.
Makki stares at you once he realizes the two of you made eye contact with one another. He relishes the faraway look in your eyes as you watch Sakusa fend off a clingy Miya Atsumu. Your best friend watches the fleeting look of admiration that graces your face suddenly morph into one of annoyance as you turn to him again.
“Why now?” You whisper-yell, eyebrows furrowing.
He remains silent and you immediately read his mind. You feel like throwing up and you fidget with the (your house colors) tie that hangs loosely around your neck.
“I can’t, ‘Hiro!”
He shakes his head with a soft smile, reaching to adjust your tie for you once he remembers that you fidget when you’re nervous. A habit that you’ve never been able to break.
“You won’t know until you try.”
Your eyes land on Sakusa once more, mind racing as you thought of all the times you imagined confessing to the brooding Slytherin. Hanamaki pushes you forward, effectively tearing you out of your thoughts, and you stumble forwards.
“Don’t be such a pussy, (Name). It doesn’t suit you.”
Something about those teasing words inspires a spiteful courage inside of you. You whip around, “Y’know what, fine! Fine, ‘Hiro. I’ll do it. ”
“Finally!” He exclaims loudly as you pull up your hood and make your way to Sakusa.
Hanamaki holds his breath as he watches you run to the field and over to the cover where the players are all standing underneath.
You’re soaked and out of breath when you reach the canopy, partly because you’re out of shape and partly because you’re scared half to death to confess to Sakusa Kiyoomi out of all people. None of them notice your figure approaching until you beckon to Sakusa. He points to himself, silently asking for your confirmation that it’s him you want to talk to. You nod as you inhale deeply to compose your nerves; he steps forward out of the group of players that move over to accommodate his large frame, and gestures to move over to the side, behind the large stands – away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers – for a little privacy.
Some of the guys whistle but you ignore them all while standing in the face of Sakusa.
“Hey.” You say as you’re still trying to catch your breath.
“Hi.” He responds, uncomfortable and oddly enough, he might even feel curious as to why you had come over to talk to him.
His curly locks are damp from the rain and he runs a hand down his face because the raindrops trickle down his forehead. He’s stupidly attractive and you hate it. Damn you, Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Sakusa generally feels uncomfortable in the presence of women, but he feels even more so in your presence. He thought he had gotten off easy by establishing a friendly exchange with you, with bringing you tea every other day, he thought that he wouldn’t have to hold a true conversation with you. But you manage to surprise him yet again; he was shocked to see you approaching the team and even more shocked when his teammates nudged his side, trying to tell him that it was him you were asking for.
Over the time you’d spent admiring Sakusa from afar, you’ve gathered that he isn’t skilled in hiding his true thoughts; you often can decipher his mood by just watching his expression change with the tiniest movements.
He raises his eyebrows ever so slightly as he watches you catch your breath. You know that he’s thinking: ‘What is it?’
“I won’t take up too much of your time-”
“You’re not.” He assures you pointedly. “We’re waiting for the storm to pass anyway.”
You nod in appreciation, grateful that Sakusa (famously known for his cold demeanor) was reassuring you in this nerve-wracking moment. You inhale once more, letting the humid air fill up your lungs, and blow it out with your lips pursed. You’re incredibly nervous and it shows. The realization that you’re about to confess to one of the most coveted guys in Hogwarts is already nauseating, yet you’re more worried about the fact that Makki is knowingly waiting for you to return. You can already see his face: pink eyebrows wiggling and his lips curled up in a devilish grin. Your best friend makes you sick to your stomach and you think that he deserves a smack on the shoulder for putting you up to something so terrifyingly embarrassing as confessing to the Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“This might be ridiculous because–well, we don’t even really know each other.” You start, pulling your robe tighter against your body because you don’t know what to do with your hands. “I think that I might just be curious. Okay, that’s not the right word.”
Sakusa’s curiosity is growing by the second. At this point, he’s even overcoming his uneasiness talking to women solely because of how nervous you are — he might even pity you at this moment. Sakusa really wants to interrupt you and urge you to, ‘spit it out,’ but he has a soft spot for you; so, he stays silent and waits for you to finish.
“Ok.” You shake your head from side to side as you imagine you’re shaking the nerves away. It’s almost endearing. Almost.
“I just came over here to say that I like you, Sakusa Kiyoomi.” You watch as his eyes widen but you push through it. “And I really like the tea you make for me. You make really good tea. I don’t really expect anything, but I wanted to tell you that.”
He’s shocked. Sure, he’s received plenty of confessions from girls before, but he’s never received a confession from a person he’s actually been interested in. Predictably, Sakusa can’t help but let the shock wash over him. His eyes still wide as he takes in the information, and as it processes, he feels like his whole body is on fire. The heat that soon overtakes his body travels up the back of his neck and his cheeks; surely, he’ll accept your confession in a heartbeat. He’s even imagined it. Yet, he stands there in shock as you believe he’s trying to figure out how to let you down easy.
“I-I’m sorry.” You splutter out as the inevitable embarrassment of being rejected by your crush sets in. “Okay, well. Have a good practice or-” You look out to the field and realize that they might not even have practice. At this point, you’re tripping over your words and you just want to escape; you need to escape the shell-shocked expression on Sakusa’s face. “I’ll see you around, Sakusa.”
He says nothing as you hurriedly walk back to the pavilion where your best friend is waiting for you. He watches as you disappear from around the stands, and he continues to watch your figure get smaller as you walk away. You finally reach the pavilion and grab Makki’s arm to drag him away.
He feels dread fill his heart at the realization that he just blew his chance with you. Sakusa feels like a coward. How could he have messed this up so badly?
When you reached Makki, the grin on his face disappeared almost immediately when he saw the look on your face.
You’re trying your hardest to keep your cool and you’re trying even harder to push down the humiliating fact that you just got rejected like every other girl who has confessed to Sakusa. You’re accepting the fact — in real time — that you’re not any different from them.
“C’mon.” You grumble and that’s all you can manage to say because you don’t trust your voice. You grab the sleeve of Makki’s robe harshly and pull him along with you.
“What happened?”
“I’m a fool.” You mumble under your breath. “I’m so fucking stupid. Why did I ever think that a guy like him would like me back?”
As you drag Makki along, the two of you are speed-walking to reach the doors of the school. In the process, you get soaked even further than you already were. Meanwhile, Makki’s observant eyes are raking over your face for answers; he’s hoping that he can find some while just looking at your side profile.
The rain pours down on top of you and Makki and you finally reach the doors. You swing them open with such force that the back of the door hits the wall.
At this moment, Makki is too afraid to speak up. He feels guilty because it wasn’t for him urging you to do your dare, you would’ve never been upset in the first place. You wouldn’t have gotten rejected because – Makki knows – you would’ve never found the courage to confess to Sakusa. He thought that if he had dared you to confess, that your dream of a reciprocated love would come true. But he was wrong.
“I’m sorry, (Name). But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.” Makki finally manages to stop you in your tracks as he stopped following you.
Your back is facing him because you don’t want to cry. You know that if you meet your best friend’s concerned filled eyes, that you will definitely break down. There’s also the fear that he won’t get the hint and will tease you about being rejected.
“He said nothing.” You say dryly. “I told him that I liked him and he just stood there.”
He’s silent for a moment before speaking up.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” Is all Makki can come up with.
Does he comfort you? He’s not entirely sure how to do that. Or should he hit you with the truth? Sure. It’s what you deserve. You deserve the truth and Makki believes that there will be no one great enough to deserve you. Not even Sakusa.
“I’m going back to my dorm.” You whisper under your breath and you don’t care if he heard you.
All you want is to take a warm shower and hide in your room. There’s nothing that can save you from the humiliation you suffered except for solitude.
So you do just that. You rush to your dorm and ignore the sounds of the water dripping onto the floor, the noise that your soaked shoes make, and all the stares along the way. You take a shower and let the water run down your back. Then, you crawl into bed and cover yourself up with blankets for the rest of the day until you fall asleep.
When you wake up the next morning, you contemplate whether or not you’ll visit the library. Will Sakusa be there, sitting in his spot? Will he spare you a pitiful glance once he sees you beeline for your own table? You don’t even want to run through all the possibilities of what could happen because you’ll talk yourself out of going. And you desperately need to go study.
Ultimately, you end up going because you would rather die than lose a day of studying a month before exams.
You walk into the library with your head down, staring at your shoes. You’re terrified that Sakusa’s going to be sitting in that spot, seemingly taunting you with all the ‘could haves.’ Some part of you is afraid that simply seeing him would make you fall into a pit of despair.
He’s not there.
You slump down into your spot with relief, letting your head rest on the back of your chair. You close your eyes, silently thanking whatever higher being for Sakusa not being here at this moment.
But then you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Your instinct forces you to open your eyes, and like out of your worst nightmare, Sakusa is standing behind you but he’s upside down due to your position.
You feel the bile daring to come up your throat and you want to scream out of frustration and embarrassment. You sit up and turn around to face him, your hands gripping the back of your chair until they turn white. When you say nothing– because what is there to say? – he starts first.
“Hi.” He says awkwardly. “Can I sit with you for a minute?”
You’re confused and he understands. Sakusa isn’t sure how he managed to ruin something so fast yesterday. He’s convinced that everything he touches – he ruins.
He waits for your response and you nod hesitantly, rotating your body as he walks to sit in the chair across from you. When your eyes meet his dark ones, you think that he is avoiding your gaze like he’s nervous. He’s wearing his mask and he unexpectedly wraps his fingers around the string hanging behind his ears, pulling his mask down to show his face to you.
When Sakusa watched you leave yesterday, Atsumu emerged from around the back of the stands where he was crouching behind to listen to your confession. He yelled, “You idiot ‘Omi!” and proceeded to scold Sakusa for being so cold.
Sakusa definitely got an earful from Atsumu, but it brought him back to reality. He knew that he had to fix things with you, even though he’s not used to repairing any damaged relationship in his life; something in him wanted to give this a try.
He knew that he didn’t want to apologize right away in fear that you'd run off. He’d even rehearsed ways in which he’d ask you, but only because Atsumu made him practice – Atsumu knows that he’s not the best with words, but Sakusa is even more inept.
“Would you like to go to this cafe with me?” He asked painfully, averting his eyes to the side because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to ask if he was looking at your face. “I heard that the tea is good there–the flavor that you like.”
Your heart dropped at the question. Is this a pity invite or a cruel joke? No, you deduce, Sakusa wouldn’t be one to take part in such cruel jokes.
“I don’t want you to take me somewhere because you feel like you have to.”
“I want to.” And his attention returns to you. Under his gaze, you feel small, yet you somehow believe him – believe that he’s being genuine.
Is a guy like Sakusa, who is so full of doubt and animosity towards strangers, capable of forming a connection with someone like you?
“Okay.” You nod for yourself while wiping your clammy hands on the material of your skirt. “I’ll go.”
You see his shoulders drop and you realize he’s relieved. You smile unknowingly and he catches a glimpse of your fleeting expression.
“Let’s go.” He says as he gets up, pulling his mask back over his nose and mouth while simultaneously collecting his things.
“Let’s go?” You repeat in confusion.
“Yeah,” Sakusa verifies as he stands by your seat, unintentionally towering over you. “I have to make it up to you.” He mumbles, almost incoherently, behind his mask.
You wordlessly listen to him, packing up your textbooks and other materials to stuff them all into your bag. As you do so, you’re trying to get over the rapid pounding of your heart.
“And you can call me Kiyoomi.”
#haezen writes!#haezen requests#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa x y/n#sakusa fluff#sakusa angst#slytherin!sakusa#haikyuu!!#haikyuu hogwarts#hogwarts AU#hq angst#hq fluff#hanamaki takahiro#hq angst/comfort#hq angst to fluff
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Hi, how are you doing? If it's okay, may I please request a Meguru Bachira x reader where they go on an ice-cream date?
hi anon! im doing awesome ty for asking lovely!! i hope you enjoy <33
"Did you forget?"
You ask plainly over the phone while you stand in front of your favorite ice-cream shop. You're freezing as you wait for MEGURU, shivering as you pull the thin fabric of your jacket tighter around your body while desperately hoping that your body will forget just how cold it is outside.
It's become a bi-weekly tradition for the two of you to visit your favorite ice-cream shop. It used to be a weekly thing, but since Meguru's schedule has become so busy and demanding, the two of you compromised—the two of you will go get ice cream one week and a place of his choosing the other week. And even though he's on a strict diet, he still makes excuses (for himself) for why it's acceptable to eat ice-cream with you every other week.
"Did I forget what?"
He grins when your eyes flicker up to his approaching figure on the sidewalk. He's got his athletic bag hanging on his shoulder with his jacket zipped up all the way to his chin. His cheeks are dusted pink— you assume it's because of the weather and realize that he had walked all the way here.
"Sometimes, I really can't stand you." You shake your head, and hang up, shoving your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. "How could you make me wait so long?"
"I'm sorry!" He exclaims heartily as he mirrors your actions, pocketing his own phone in his joggers. "I let the time fly by, but I'll make it up to you (Name)."
“Whatever.” You say as you fake a bad mood. But the both of you know that as soon as you receive your cup of ice cream and settle into your spot across from him in that corner booth that you like, your ‘bad mood’ will fade away as quickly as it came.
Meguru eagerly reaches for the handle of the door, swinging it open and gestures with his head for you to walk inside. You walk past him and inside the shop, throwing him a glare over your shoulder as he trails behind you. He smiles guiltily, eyes crinkling at the corners.
As you stand in front of all the options, eyes raking over each flavor with increasing interest, you feel Meguru’s presence from behind you.
His eyes are locked onto the same flavor he always chooses: pistachio.
“Are you ever gonna try something new for once?”
“I mean...” His golden eyes flicker up to meet your own. “Do I need to?”
“I guess not...but how could pistachio be your favorite? Out of everything?!” You laugh while the employee emerges from the breakroom, striding to attend to you and Meguru.
“What would you rather me try then? Surprise me.” He offers.
“Mmm..” You hum, resting the pad of your index finger flat over your lips as you decide between picking a flavor he’d love or one that he’d hate. “You like chocolate, don’t you Meguru?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, nonchalant. “I like almost everything.”
“Almost!” You exclaim like you’ve realized something. “Should I be evil and torment you?”
Meguru pouts, “I was only five minutes late!”
“He’ll have a cup of Cherry.” You tell the employee behind the counter.
“No!” He interrupts theatrically and you can’t help but laugh.
“He’ll actually have...” You look at all the flavors one time before pointing to Mint Chocolate Chip. “How about Mint?” You spare him a glance and he gives it a second of thought before nodding.
After the employee finished preparing both of your orders, he paid for them willingly. You thanked him with a soft smile and slid into the booth against the wall. He slid into the spot across from you and shoved a spoonful of the mint ice cream into his mouth.
“I would’ve ate whatever you picked for me.”
“Good.” You respond, shoving a spoonful of your own ice cream in your mouth. But before you’re done eating the ice cream in your mouth, you hurriedly reach over to steal a spoonful of Meguru’s ice cream.
“Hey!”
“Mmmm.” You hum once more as you savor the flavor of Mint Chocolate Chip; it tastes even better when it’s not your own. “How about we get ice cream again next week?”
He closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s trying to get past the fact that you stole a spoonful from his own cup. “Of course.”
You laugh in realization, knowing that you bothered him. But as you’re laughing, he sneakily grabs your cup of ice cream to steal a bite of his own.
“Meguru!”
#haezen writes!#haezen requests#bllk x reader#bllk#bachira x you#bachira x reader#meguru bachira x reader#bachira meguru#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#bllk imagine#blue lock imagine
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Hi!! I think the last time I sent you an ask was around two weeks ago, I can finally go on a mild break lol. I was wondering if I could request a military au with sakusa or if it’s much better for you to do a hogwarts one instead! Anyways, it’s no worries if you cannot but have a nice day/night :)
hi anon!! here's a lil hogwarts sakusa for u ^-^
sorry i took so long! im not sure how i feel about this one, but i figured i made you wait long enough. so here u go :D
pairing: slytherin!sakusa x reader
PART TWO is out now!
masterlist
the first time you’d ever laid eyes on your crush, sakusa kiyoomi, was in the library at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.
sakusa kiyoomi (aka “the prettiest slytherin to ever exist in the history of hogwarts!” claimed your best friend) was one of the most famous quidditch players and one of the most promising scholars. yet, he happened to be sitting there in that perfect, sunny spot near the back of the library: the spot you’d been eyeing until you saw his dark, curly hair occupying the whole table.
for the first few weeks, when you’d come in at your usual time, hoping that the spot would be free, he’d be there before you and he always sat in the same spot.
then one day, it was just his spot.
he often kept to himself despite the friends he’d made playing on the quidditch team. while his teammates could be seen teasing and hanging around the dark-haired boy, it wasn’t rare to see sakusa act like they didn’t exist. that was, perhaps, his favorite method of getting people to leave him alone.
over the course of the semester, you began to take an interest in sakusa.
sakusa, you realized, liked sitting by the window because that lessened the chances of people sitting near him. his table was secluded and in the back of the library, which meant that anyone who’d roam the aisles of books would still not be able to find him unless they were looking for him. he sat on the side against the wall, so that the warm sunlight that would often shine through the huge, open windows would hit his table perfectly.
you’d sit on the opposite side of the aisle and across the room, and that meant you got a great, uninterrupted view of the quiet and brooding slytherin.
you noticed the books he liked reading were books about muggles. it made you wonder why he took such a liking to the topic — considering he came from an affluent, pure-blood wizarding family. everybody in the wizarding world (and even some in the human world!) knew who the sakusas were, for it was unusual if the average wizarding person didn’t know who the family was. (especially because every member of the family was well known for having a particularly niche talent)
it was also famously known that sakusa kiyoomi hated germs; he always had a mask hiding his face and the only people that knew what he looked like were people who went to see him play. you were not one of those people.
you hoped that you’d get to see the bottom half of his face one day — but seeing his gorgeous dark eyes and abnormally long eyelashes was sufficient for you at the moment.
as the weeks went by, observing and learning new things about sakusa kiyoomi became one of your favorite pastimes. most of the time, he would just sit there and just read, leaving you the perfect opportunity to admire his beauty from afar.
he’d rarely ever do his homework and no one ever came to visit his table. well, it was obvious why no one would sit at his table.
that’s because sakusa kiyoomi was a person you’d never want to approach. especially because his presence is so overwhelmingly intimidating.
you also noticed that girls would roam the aisles of the library, and upon seeing sakusa sitting alone by the window, they’d stop and sneakily try to admire him. it’s like they were trying to muster up enough courage to make a move. after the first few girls, the information spread like wildfire. most of the time, their staring and hesitance was obnoxiously distracting because you knew that they’d come to the library with the knowledge that sakusa often hung out in the back. all you could do was laugh quietly at their fruitless attempts and hesitance in approaching him because of his strong presence.
no one had enough courage to approach him yet.
it took about two months before you finally interacted with sakusa. you remember your first encounter with him vividly. when you arrived at your usual time, you glanced over to sakusa’s spot to see that he was nowhere to be found. you thought it was strange considering that he was always there before you and well into reading whatever book he chose that day. as you settled into your chair and laid out all your things for your study session, an hour passed by.
and finally, in walks sakusa.
he doesn’t bother to look your way, per usual, as he heads towards his spot; but as you watch him take his seat and settle in, you notice his unusual behavior.
he moves slower than what can be considered a normal pace, and as he sits down, he sinks down into his chair like he’s melting. he rests his head on the back of the chair and with his eyes closed, he sighs loudly. note: loudly enough to make you look up at him from your books.
you force yourself to stop staring at him in fear that he’ll catch you and turn to you with a stern look and furrowed eyebrows. (you like to imagine every scenario possible in order to be prepared for it, in the unlikely event that it actually happens)
as you flip through your books as an attempt to focus on your homework and find the answer you’re looking for, he indirectly commands your attention again by sneezing multiple times. the sound makes you flinch because of the sheer volume of it. out of habit and without a second thought, you mutter, “bless you.”
he turns.
when he meets your eyes for the first time, you realize he is looking at you like that because he never knew you were there to begin with.
you are just a stranger.
“thanks.” he replies politely and his voice is shockingly deep and even has a rasp to it.
as you sit there, thinking about that bewildering expression on his face(well, what you can see from his mask), you want to be offended that it seems he never once noticed your presence. but, you choose to focus on something else. even though you’d never heard a word come out of his mouth before, you know it to be true. that’s when you put two and two together to realize that the infamous germaphobe of slytherin has come (back down to earth) with a cold.
(after this encounter, this is the only word you hear from sakusa for a long time. you committed his voice to memory the moment he said it.)
eventually, he just stops reading the book he brought. he closes the book–this time, it was a book called twilight, you think but it was hard to decipher the title from afar—and gently lays it down to rest his head on his arms. his eyes flutter shut and he sniffs as quietly as he can manage. as you look onto his sleepy figure, you decide that it’d be a shame to let this opportunity go to waste.
you head off to the kitchens. on the walk there, you ponder all the things you’d say once you returned to the library. would you even say anything at all? what could possibly be said to the scariest slytherin you’ve ever met?
the elves' eyes shoot to you as you waltz inside, greeting you with cheery hello’s. you decline their generous offers to make the tea for you and insist that you must do it yourself. you brew the tea, say your goodbyes and head back to the library.
when you return, sakusa has fully fallen asleep. his breathing (because you can hear it from your table) is slightly ragged and he sleeps as if he hasn’t slept properly in days. you tip-toe to his table and set down the tea cup in front of him as carefully as you can while watching closely to see if you’d disturbed him in the process. with a sigh of relief at success, you go back to your spot and continue to study.
he actually slept for a while after that and you’d gotten lost in your studies. stuck in your own world, you failed to see the signs of a sleepy sakusa start to stir and wake up. as he lifts his head up groggily, you try your hardest to ignore him so he doesn’t suspect you were responsible for it. when he notices the cup of tea in front of him, he looks around curiously before dipping the tip of his finger in the cup; you assume he does so to check the temperature. then, sakusa pulls out his wand, and effortlessly casts a simple spell. he pulls his mask down to his chin and out of the corner of your eyes, you sneak a glimpse at his face.
he is just as breathtaking as you imagined.
now, he can enjoy the tea made just for him by the generosity of a kind stranger, at just the right temperature to soothe his aching throat.
you smile to yourself when he hums in delight.
this continues on for a while. since the two of you had a routine, you made sure to get to the library early enough to leave a piping hot cup of tea – until you decided that he was well again.
he obviously wasn’t sick anymore, but you liked the glimpse of joy that flashed in his eyes upon seeing a cup of tea waiting for him.
today, you were running late. you slept in dangerously late, and only had twenty minutes to study before your exam today. when you walked into the library and headed towards your table, there was a cup of tea waiting for you. your heart almost fell to the floor at the sight of it because it was made just how you make it for sakusa.
when you turn to sakusa, ready to thank him, you discover that his nose is shoved into a book. you smile to yourself, knowing he isn’t watching your reaction.
as you sit down and daringly take a sip, you can’t help the hum of delight that follows. a sound that mirrored that of when sakusa first took a sip of the tea you made for him, weeks ago.
the two of you ignore each other like usual, both enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the library while doing your own work. as you take the last sip of your tea, you can’t help but glance over at sakusa. he’s packing up to leave and as he stands up, he hooks his finger around his mask to pull it down, baring his face to you. your cheeks flush. you’re touched by the gesture because you know how rarely sakusa is seen without his mask — you think he’d rather be caught dead than seen without it.
you realize you’re staring, unable to take your eyes off of the sight of his naked face. he’s usually used to the reaction, but to see it from you makes him feel uncharacteristically shy.
“don’t expect this to be a regular thing.” he deadpans.
you wave him off, shaking your head. “i don’t expect anything, but thank you. it was really kind of you.”
sakusa never does anything for anyone else. he doesn’t have the time or energy to do anything out of the kindness of his own heart. but to be called kind, especially by you, someone who he has never talked to, makes him feel unsure.
when he arrived at the library on that one day, feeling sick and more irritable than normal, seeing his favorite flavor of tea waiting for him at his spot warmed his cold heart. who knew sakusa kiyoomi had one?
he just had to return the favor. to know that he might owe someone a favor bothered him to no end. sakusa told himself that he was simply just returning the favor and not because he wanted an excuse to talk to you, because he doesn’t need friends. but when he saw the genuine look of happiness on your face, he realized that he might like doing things for other people – okay, maybe just you.
he reminds himself that he doesn’t have the time for anyone else (komori and atsumu demand enough of his attention) but he supposes if he can see that look on your face one more time, putting a little effort in might be worth it.
he hums in response, pulling his mask back up and he starts to head out.
“sakusa!” you call out, a little louder than what’s deemed acceptable in the library.
he casts a glance over his shoulder.
“thank you again.” you smile warmly at him and he thinks his heart might just explode. the tips of his ears flush red and in a panic, he nods in acknowledgement because he doesn’t trust his voice.
and it did become a regular thing.
#sakusa x y/n#slytherin sakusa#sakusa is so cute i love him#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#one shot#hq one shot#hq fluff#haikyuu x reader#hq!!#haikyuu!! x reader#haezen writes!#haezen requests
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OK SO IM thinking (lots of thinking) about
OSAMU having a food truck and showing up to your work when they host food trucks in the parking lot for the employees. he’s kind and sweet to your coworkers that gush over him when they approach his truck. they flood him with compliments and the stars in their eyes are hard to miss, but you knew that they would fall victim to his good looks anyway.
you watch on fondly as they all giggle and turn to you, reminding you how lucky you are that you have a boyfriend that’s both handsome AND knows how to cook.
he’d smile softly at you once it was your turn to order and you would still feel butterflies in your stomach at the sight.
“what can i get for ya, pretty lady?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling in amusement.
you’d play along and glance over at the menu, pretending like you didn’t know what you wanted as if you didn’t know the menu like the back of your hand.
“oh, i don’t know...” you’d hum. “i think i’m good actually, i haven’t even checked out the other trucks yet.” you say, trying to fight off a laugh at your boyfriend’s wide eyes.
“hey!” he’d shout after you when you start walking away. “’ya better bring your butt back ‘ere and order somethin’!”
he sure did have a lot to say when you returned with a plate of nachos. after eating more than half of what you ordered for yourself, he looked up at you with a guilty expression and his mouth full.
“it’s actually pretty good.”
“i would KNOW that if you didn’t eat all of it!”
#WOULDNT ONIGIRI MIYA AS A FOOD TRUCK SLAY#I LOVE OSAMU#i also love osamu in his lil cap i think that's so attractive#hehehe#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu#osamu drabble#miya osamu one shot#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#hq!!#haezen writes!
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GOJO’s favorite holiday is christmas.
he loves spoiling his friends and students by buying them all the things they said they wanted over the course of the year plus the things he saw that reminded him of them. if they refuse to accept his gifts, he’ll hide them in their rooms and force them to keep it. (he’s more stubborn than he seems)
he loves to wear those stupid ugly sweaters with unfunny memes on them; he likes to show them off and cackle at everyone’s reaction to it. and yes, he knows they’re ugly.
he loves drinking eggnog (not because he likes it, but because it’s festive) if someone comments on how they think it’s disgusting, he’ll chug a whole glass of it in front of them.
he loves sitting by the fire, watching it burn and listen to it crackle.
he loves to stand out in the snow, dropping his infinity, and watching the snowflakes fall on him. he thinks it’s the most peaceful thing in the world.
he loves to go see christmas lights and point at all the houses he think were decorated terribly. and even if it isn’t funny at all, listening to his contagious laugh makes it hilarious — you’ll laugh so hard with him that your stomach will hurt.
satoru loves those little cookies that you get at the grocery store—the ones with designs on the front of them. he loves to make those in the middle of the night and eat them like a gremlin, leaving none for everyone else because he loves sweets.
he likes to make christmas BIG. he’ll host a huge party and invite everyone he loves to his penthouse (yes, it’s super nice and everyone is shocked by how extravagant it is) he’ll ask for your help in decorating and making food for the party. everyone has a good time and maybe he’ll have a few drinks when you insist he needs to partake in the holiday fun.
he’ll get drunk (he told you he was a lightweight !!) and when you’re cleaning up after the party, he’ll whine for your attention and claim you don’t love him. you obviously do, but satoru’s always overly dramatic. after a little bit of reassurance and teasing on your part, he’ll settle down on the couch.
after you clean everything up, you worry that he’s a little too quiet all of a sudden.
then, he asks you to sit with him in front of the fire and maybe just maybe he’ll even let you play with his hair.
(a/n: im writing a fic for this in december <3)
#haezen writes!#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru drabble#gojo x you#jjk drabble#jjk x reader
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synposis: it’s halloween and you’re in charge of handing out candy for the night. what fun would halloween be without a little scare?
pairing: ghostface!suna, childhood best friend!suna rintarou x f!reader
genre: fluff, suggestive, friends to lovers, best friends to lovers
warnings: suna is his own warning, ghostface suna, cursing, he chokes u (kinda)
word count: 4k
a/n: THANKK U FOR ALL THE LOVE AND FOR 200 FOLLOWERS !!! <333 HAPPY OCTOBER !
in your house, every holiday is chaotic and you’re always on a time crunch to make it perfect.
and it always goes the same: buying whatever decorations are left at the store and putting them up in a hurry, last minute runs for essential ingredients that somehow didn’t make it on the grocery list, and of course, cleaning the house in a frenzy before guests arrive.
halloween isn’t any different.
well, except for the fact that you buy the candy in advance. (this is the only thing you don’t procrastinate on)
every year, you buy a few bags of candy to stash away in your closet and your family is none the wiser. you actually think it’s better for them to believe you only buy the essentials at the last minute. you’d much rather have your family expect less from you — so you can enjoy the sweet candy all to yourself.
this halloween, your family all had their own plans to celebrate this year.
‘hey (name), you mind handing out candy this year for us?’ your parents asked. you remember sitting on the kitchen counter, sucking on a caramel green apple lollipop as you watched them wash the dishes. they looked back at you expectantly, like the only answer you could say is ‘yes.’
you grimace at the memory. you wouldn’t mind if no one had expected you to stay all alone to hand out candy this year. but, the fact that you didn’t have a choice and couldn’t make your own plans this year was extremely bothersome.
so here you are, standing up on a chair, hanging up some ghost decorative string lights above the front door. in an hour or two, you were expecting to see some trick-or-treaters make their rounds around the neighborhood. you decided that you couldn’t ease up on the decorations this year even if you had to do it alone. being the house with the least spirit was the last thing you wanted. for your pride, you had to decorate and go all out.
you put up the last piece of tape so the string lights would stay hanging up. they flickered as you stepped down from the chair. moving the chair out of the way and to the side, you took another few steps back to admire your work. it would do. they might have been a few years old, but the lights were a classic in your household. a staple for halloween decorations. most of your halloween decorations were ghost themed. your (family member) loved ghosts, so anytime you bought decorations, you felt inclined to pick the ghost version. this included plastic plates, cups, napkins, trinkets, etc. it was just your family’s thing.
you set out the pumpkins you and your (family member/s) carved earlier outside on the porch. then, satisfied with the way the outside of your house looked, you head inside to light a few pumpkin scented candles and hang up a couple of faux cobwebs in the entryway. the time on the clock read 5:49 P.M. you still had plenty of time to get costume ready before trick-or-treaters start arriving.
your costume was laid out on your bed. this year, you decided you were gonna be a pirate. ‘decided’ isn’t really the best choice of words, but it was the only costume left at the store. you thought: what’s the harm? why not wear a sexy costume this year?
you put your costume on, including the most difficult boots you’ve ever had the displeasure of putting on your poor feet, and then start to apply the final touch: lipstick. this costume couldn’t be considered complete without it! you were focused on applying it perfectly which meant intensely staring at your own lips in the mirror.
all of a sudden, you are torn away from your reflection when you hear a slight crinkling noise.
you paused for a minute, waiting to see if you’d hear the noise again. the noise was very quiet, but then, you heard it a second time.
that’s when you noticed your closet door was left open just a crack.
oh, did i leave that open? ah.. maybe i forgot to close it after laying my costume out when i got home.
then you hear it a third time.
“ohhhhh my god..” you huff as you stomp over to check it out. your heart beats a little quicker at the thought of a rodent in your closet eating your stash.
your guess isn’t so far off.
you open the door to be met with the sight of suna, your childhood best friend, sitting on your closet floor with his cheeks stuffed full of kitkats.
your kitkats!
his eyes widen in shock like a deer in headlights for a split second as he realizes he’s been caught.
you act like the shriek that left your mouth at the discovery never happened and hope that he says nothing about the true terror that was evident on your face.
he’s wearing a ghostface costume with his favorite black boots (your favorite on him as well) and, you can see his face because his mask is resting on the top of his head.
“boo.” a cheeky grin slowly spreads across his face as he regains his composure, mouth still full of chocolate. he wasn’t expecting to be found out so soon but he does a great job of covering up his surprise. it was easy considering that you were too focused on how much of your stash he had devoured. when you snap out of your thoughts, your lips form in a thin line at his expression.
“rin, you’re actually the worst.” you groan as you stand there in front of him with a stern glare that signals you’re demanding an explanation. he knows exactly what that look means because he’s been on the receiving end of it for years. unfortunately, suna has no lack of imagination when it comes to pranking you.
your heart is still pounding from the scare and you rest a hand on your chest in relief that it was just suna.
the glint in his eyes makes you think that he still has more tricks up his sleeve.
he holds his hand out to you, asking for your help in standing up. without a second thought, you extend your hand out to him and he takes it in his own gloved one. he towers over you as he stands up straight.
wow. those boots really do make him taller...
“why couldn’t you just knock and come in like a normal person!? you’re such a fuckin’ freak.” you complain as you smooth out your skirt.
“s’ more fun to scare you.” he mumbles childishly with his mouth full. “y’know, if you didn’t take so long...” he jests with a quirk of his eyebrow. clearly, he is looking to provoke you.
“then what?” you challenge with your hands on your hips.
he shrugs in response to your question with his grin widening even more after he swallows the last of the candy he was chewing on. he’d rather leave it a mystery and have you guess his true intentions because he is nowhere near finished with his plans for tonight.
“i dunno. but from the look on your face...” suna waltzes over to your bed and carelessly flops down on it like he owns the place. he’s comfortable in your space and it certainly shows.
whenever he’d come over, which was often, he'd move and rearrange all the things on your nightstand while you weren’t paying attention because he knows it’ll get under your skin. he’d always get a picture of what he’d done and a text from you later complaining about his lack of consideration for your belongings. he would never admit it to anyone, but he giggles at these texts when no one’s around. so, to get a reaction out of you, he continues to do it every time he comes over and he’s able to go into your room.
“i still managed to scare the shit outta you.” he says as he moves one of your candles to the opposite side of your nightstand.
“you didn’t scare me, i just didn’t expect it.” you lie, sticking your tongue out at him when you notice what he’s doing.
“oh sureee...” he laughs while he shifts to lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand.
your back is turned to him as you busy your mind with last-minute tidying up. you didn’t think you’d have a visitor in your room and you left some of your clothes strewn out all over the floor. although suna has said nothing about the state of your room, you still felt a little embarrassed.
when you finally steal a glance at him lying there on your bed, you hate how your heart skips a beat. he’s watching you, no—gazing at you with that look in his eyes. the one that makes you feel like you have nothing to hide. the look that’s so full of care and love and it feels so familiar. maybe it feels so familiar because you have known each other your whole lives. maybe he just cherishes you as that friend who has always been there for him.
you try to talk yourself out of moments like these where you find a little love in him because you feel the need to protect yourself in case he doesn’t feel the same. but, you secretly wish that maybe there’s a little more to that look than you think.
it takes a minute, but when the two of you realize that you’ve been staring at each other, it’s suna who catches himself first. in an attempt to move on, he raises his eyebrows in anticipation as a way to invite you to say something.
“and if you’re gonna eat all my candy, at least pick up after yourself.” you grumble in annoyance and avert your eyes to the mess he’s made.
“sorry.” he whispers loud enough just for you to hear.
he watches closely as you bend down to pick up all the candy wrappers he’s left on the floor of your closet. at the sight of you bending over, he sharply inhales at the realization that the skirt you’re wearing is dangerously short. even though you guys have been friends for forever, he can’t help it; his eyes certainly don’t stray away from staring at your ass. he whispers under his breath a prayer that’d he would be able to see even a sliver of your underwear. then, he desperately tries to stop his dirty thoughts when he remembers who he’s staring at.
“are you doing that on purpose?” you hear his voice from behind you. you turn around to see that he’s gotten up from your bed and is now leaning on the doorframe, looking your way under the safety of the mask he’s wearing.
“oooh, scary!” you giggle. “am i doing what on purpose?” you question as you make your way to the trashcan to dispose of the wrappers.
when you look up, you notice that suna is gone from his previous spot at your door.
“rin?” you wait a beat before calling out to which there’s no response. you peek your head out of your room to check the hallway. no sight of him. you open up all the upstairs doors dramatically like you’re bracing for him to jump out at you any second. and, of course, you discover that your best friend isn’t waiting for you anywhere upstairs.
“come out already!” you yell out frustrated as you run down the stairs. you’ve reached the front of your house and that’s when you notice how quickly the sun is setting. it’s getting darker outside which means that the inside of your house is also getting darker.
you search around your house in a panic and frantically start to turn on lights. your nerves are starting to get the best of you with every passing second. this situation that suna has put you in leads you to believe that he’s been planning this all along. now, you feel dumb for expecting anything less of him on his favorite holiday.
“suna rintarou! i’m serious!” you cry, opening all the doors that you hadn’t already. you open the coat closet door, not really carefully checking the contents of each room anymore. you come to the last door you’d yet to open and you finally open the door to the garage. the current darkest room of your house.
as you’re staring into the darkness, you are harshly jerked backwards. you’re violently pulled out of your thoughts and back into reality. in a mere second, the breath is knocked out of you as you collide backwards with something hard. you soon are hit with the realization that suna had rushed out the adjacent room and has pulled you into him by your waist. with your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around your middle, you squirm in his embrace. it takes his low voice whispering in your ear to calm down.
“(name)~” you calm your movements at the sound of his voice, but the beating of your heart is anything but calm. he slowly moves his hand up your stomach, letting his gloved fingertips trail up to rest right over your ribs.
“huh?” you quietly breathe out as you crane your head to look up at him—to see if you can see his eyes through the mask. you try to act unbothered like the way he is holding you isn’t making you want to scream out of anticipation. you pretend that your heart isn’t trying to leap out of your chest because of the proximity between the two of you. you can’t help but feel excited that your life-long crush, your childhood best friend, the suna rintarou, is finally this close to you. it’s almost impossible for you to process that he’s finally touching you after so long.
to be held so close to him like this is making your mind incredibly foggy.
he sways backwards, like he’s hesitant to say or do anything that might cross a line.
because where do we cross this line? when had we already crossed it?
but you press your ass back into his crotch so you’re leaning back into him. it’s like you’re commanding his warm body to get closer to your own. for a second you worry:
should we be doing this?
he’s your best friend!
he takes a deep breath at the action and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. this isn’t how he wanted it to go. this isn’t how he wanted to tell you his true feelings, but seeing you bent over in that tiny, revealing costume made him go crazy. he realized in that moment that he couldn’t wait a second longer, for his feelings for you felt so overwhelming that he thought he might explode.
he might have gone a little overboard. all this hiding was only to get you a little riled up. but, this was obvious. suna had always been the one to tease. after being friends for so long, it was inevitable for you to learn from him: the master.
his hands started to creep up your chest, grazing up over your breasts to then wrap his fingers around your neck. he stares into your eyes through the thin fabric of the holes left in his mask. you gasp at the contact but make no further movements. he takes this as a sign to continue but he watches closely to gauge your reaction as he begins to slowly apply pressure.
“did you like the show i put on just for you?” you finally whisper out, trying to make him flush.
as much as you wanted him to choke you, the desire to see him all hot and bothered was much stronger. you decided that this time, you wanted to be the one to tease. you knew that your costume was revealing and you knew the effect it might have on your best friend. you made sure to put on a show when you were cleaning up his mess earlier. had you gone overboard?
you had caught him staring at you in the past—he wasn’t so subtle about it as he originally thought. while you were aware of his wandering eyes, you still worried that he might only be staring to satisfy his own curiosities. even though you weren’t expecting him to be so conveniently hiding in your closet, you planned to make a move on him today. obviously, it had worked.
his actions pause for a second and that’s when you take the opportunity to reach behind you to pull the mask off of his head. his brown hair flops out from the mask and over his forehead; it’s messy and some strands are stuck to his skin. his cheeks are flushed pink and you notice how his tongue darts out to lick his lips. a mischievous smile adorns your face at his expression and he, for only a second, feels defeated.
you drop the mask on the floor and turn your body so you’re chest to chest. his green eyes carefully watch your actions as he lets you do what you please. wrapping your arms around his neck, you lean in as close as you can manage and stop just before your lips reach his. he’s only a breath away.
the corner of his lip raises and he shakes his head, like he should’ve expected this from you.
“oh...” he chuckles as his head tilts to the side in amusement. it’s like the dots are finally connecting: you continue to amaze him every time. he mirrors you with his own mischievous grin. “so that was on purpose, huh?” he says aloud, referring to the scene of you bending over.
you purse your lips to hold back the laugh that is threatening to escape, but his next action really surprises you. he sweeps you up into his arms bridal style and the empty house is soon filled with the sound of your laughter.
“suna! put me down!” you yell, squirming in his arms. you know that your movement does little to persuade him.
“ah ah…now, that’s not my name.” he clicks his tongue. with you in his arms, he carries you to the living room. as he stands right in front of the couch, his grip on you remains the same. you realize he’s waiting for your response before he even thinks to put you down.
“but it literally is?” you reply, just as fast as the thought occurred. he almost throws you down on the couch as he feigns anger. you know he’s just trying to make you laugh at this point.
you giggle as you look at his form hovering over you. he’s furrowing his eyebrows and fighting back a smile.
“(name)!” now it’s suna’s turn to yell.
you find it so amusing to spend time with a suna who feels completely comfortable and free in your company. this is your suna. the one that’s not afraid to be loud or silly. this suna is playful, mischievous and loves to pull pranks. this side of him is reserved for you and you alone. it’s a bragging right you’ve been holding onto for forever. moments like these are ones you hold dear to your heart.
suna has done a lot of things that surprised you this evening, but somehow, you know what’s coming next.
he jumps on top of you and pinpoints your most sensitive spots to tickle you all over. you can’t hold back the cackles that escape your mouth in this frenzy that’s occurring in the living room of your house. if someone was standing outside, surely they’d hear the sound of your constant laughter.
“i’m not gonna stop til you get my name right!” he says half-jokingly and his attacks are relentless, proving his statement right.
you’re out of breath, he notices, and stops for a second to give you a chance to redeem yourself. his eyes are expectant and you can easily spot the playful sparkle in them.
“rintarou~” you sing enticingly.
his eyes widen at your tone.
he’d heard you call him by his first name plenty of times before, but when you say it like that, it sends a shiver down his spine. as he’s staring at you, trying to rack his brain for a response, he falls short. he’s completely stunned; tonight, you have tested him more times than he can count. he’s not sure how much longer he can handle your antics today, especially when your lips look so soft and kissable. you notice how his eyes lock onto your lips and both of your faces flush at each other’s reaction.
he’s unsure of what to do next. all his rational thinking has gone out the window. all the planning and practicing what he would say to you has vanished from his mind. just by looking at him, you can tell that there’s not a single thought occurring behind his eyes.
“rinnie?” you question out of concern. “why are you acting so weird?” you push up and rest on your elbows. he’s sitting on top of you and while it may seem he’s looking at you, he really is looking through you.
“did i break you?” you chortle and that’s when his attention snaps back into place. he swallows the lump in his throat and runs his fingers through his hair so you aren’t able to miss a single detail of his face. he pushes down his pride and that familiar look in his eyes resurfaces. your heart rate starts to pick up and that’s when you start to feel the gravity of the situation.
it’s so strange to see the usual smooth and charming suna be so fidgety and nervous.
with a deep breath, he utters, “i think…” he turns his head to the side when he starts to doubt himself and you notice his ears are red from embarrassment. everything in him is telling him to stop what he’s about to do; he’s afraid that you’d never return his feelings, that he’s going to look like a fool for even thinking he has a chance. but he ignores all his doubts and musters up just enough courage because, ‘it’s gotta be now.’
his eyes make contact with yours again and for once, he has no idea what is going on inside of your head. his heart is hammering inside his chest and he wants to hide from the intensity of your gaze. the room is spinning and he feels like he’s about to throw up all over you. that would be ten times–no, a thousand times worse than if you were to reject him.
“i love you.”
despite all his worries and anxious thoughts, the only thing he can focus on is how beautiful you look underneath him. a shy and contagious smile starts to spread across your face.
he swears he might faint at the sight.
“i’ve always loved you.” you reply without missing a beat.
relief floods over you at his confession and him at your response. this sweet and candid side of him is exactly what made you fall in love with the middle blocker in the first place. to see him be so unapologetically himself in this moment has completely melted you. it feels so natural to experience this sort of intimacy with him even though you’ve never been in a situation where he’s been this close. it’s completely foreign yet it feels the opposite, like you’ve been here before.
“oh my god, i thought i was gonna die if you said–” he exhales in relief and dramatically shakes his head trying to collect himself. “i swear–”
“just kiss me, rintarou.”
“okay.” he nods obediently as he gives you a dorky, nervous smile. he doesn’t waste another second and immediately leans down to cup your face with gloved hands.
you finally feel his lips against yours and you can’t stop the noise of excitement that leaves you at the contact.
his lips are just as soft as you hoped they would be and you feel dizzy because he’s wearing that cologne you gave him last christmas. he’s so passionate and rough in all the right ways and it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined.
maybe half of you is in disbelief because you just can’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re kissing your long-time crush slash best friend.
then, you realize that the other half of you knows you’re in bliss because he still tastes like kitkats.
#haezen writes!#suna rintarou#suna rintaro scenarios#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader#suna x you#suna rintarou x reader#suna rintarou x you#haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x reader#suna rintaro drabbles
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slytherin!atsumu x ravenclaw!fem reader ♡ part one
hogwarts au :D
i love the idea of slytherin atsumu so i had to write it for myself!! this is my first time posting my writing on tumblr so i hope you like it.
part one | part two
“Can I help you?” Tsukishima asked starkly. Your attention shifted from the potions book in front of you to the figure hovering over the table.
There, to the right of you, was Slytherin’s star Quidditch player: Miya Atsumu.
Atsumu sported a playful lopsided grin on his face; a grin that irritated your best friend, Tsukishima, to no end. He was up to no good and you could easily notice from the mischievous glint he held in his big brown eyes.
Everyone in Hogwarts knew the Miya twins, but Miya Atsumu was a unique kind of famous. He was an extraordinary Quidditch player that often garnered a lot of attention in any game he played. Watching him play was exhilarating and he sold many tickets because people would go out of their way to attend the games he played in. Even though he was well known for being such a talented athlete, he was more well known around Hogwarts for always getting in some sort of trouble. Atsumu could charm anyone and get out of anything with just his charming smile.
Girls would line up for him after his games, crowd the Slytherin section, and wear the Slytherin scarf around their necks even if they were in other houses. As he walked through the corridors, heads would turn if Miya Atsumu passed by. Hushed whispers of his name would reach his ears everywhere he went. Atsumu would always smile at everyone he encountered and say something flirty to any girl that bat her eyelashes at him.
Apparently, he even manages to charm the professors who are cursed to have him in their classes. All it takes are a few smooth words and a flash of his award-winning smile for him to get his way. And he always gets his way.
“Yeah ya can actually..” Atsumu started, glancing over his shoulder at his friends sat at the Slytherin table (who were staring at him intensely with amused looks on their faces) “I was wonderin’ yanno, like I usually do...”
“Spit it out so we can study in peace. It would be a miracle to study without hearing your grating voice a second longer.” Tsukishima’s words had no effect on the phony blonde but their eye contact proved otherwise. Both boys were sizing each other up through intense glares. Their eyes were saying something unknown to you.
“As I was sayin’...” Atsumu huffs, “I was wonderin’ if yer beautiful minds would be up to the task.” He said while putting his foot up on the bench and resting his elbow on his thigh so he could lean a little closer to the two of you. Atsumu had to finish this up quickly.
At the mere mention of challenge, Tsukishima’s interest was piqued. Your watchful eyes observed the glimpse of excitement flash in your friend’s expression. Tsukishima’s tells were subtle and if you were to put it simply, you could read your cold, emotionless friend like a book. After spending all these years by his side, you would not be able to call yourself his best friend if you could not do something as simple as read his body language.
“What is it, Miya?” You turned your body towards the Quidditch player, completely forgetting about the potions book you had your nose in only a minute ago.
His eyes met yours in an instant. To have his attention, if only for a couple of minutes, was incredibly suffocating. Atsumu’s gaze was captivating and in this moment, you understood why he has charmed so many people. To admit this to anyone was to utterly admit defeat. To admit that Atsumu might have caught your interest was the last thing you wanted. You did not want to be another girl added to his very, very long list.
You wanted this encounter to be over as soon as it started and Tsukishima shared the same sentiment. The three of you were all aware of the attention Atsumu had drawn to the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. Everyone was supposed to be quietly studying, but more often than not, most of the students ended up conversing as quietly as they could without getting in trouble. Depending on the professor, some study hall sessions could get rowdy. But today was Snape’s turn to supervise.
“What is Atsumu doing talking to them?”
“Doesn’t Tsukishima hate Miya? Hahahaha....he looks so bothered.”
“Why is Atsumu talking to (Name)? He should come over here instead...”
You tuned out all the whispers that had failed to do their job-- you could very well hear what they were saying and then some. From hearing people whispering and knowing their attention was on you made you feel uneasy. So uneasy that a sour look began to show on your face. Atsumu pretended not to notice.
“Are you just gonna stand there or what?” Tsukishima pointed out. “I’m sick of smelling your Slytherin stench from here.”
Tsukishima always knew exactly what to say to grind someone’s gears, especially Atsumu. Anytime Atsumu was in the vicinity, Tsukishima would tense up. Whenever you tried to pry for information, you were shut down. There was no telling what had happened between the two boys but you figured it must have been something serious for Tsukishima to hold such a grudge.
Atsumu’s smile faded as soon as Tsukishima’s snarky comment left his mouth. But before he could respond, a loud voice boomed from the other side of the hall.
“Mr. Miya!”
Everyone in the Great Hall flinched at Snape’s stern tone except for Atsumu and Tsukishima.
“(Name)...” Atsumu broke his intense eye contact with Tsukishima and turned to you with a forced smile. “I’ll find ya after potions tomorrow.”
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#slytherin!atsumu#hogwarts haikyuu au#ravenclaw!reader#haikyuu x reader#atsumu miya#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#atsumu drabble#haezen writes!#Miya Atsumu
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Hi can I request a streamer!nagi seishiro x reader hcs please.
of course you can! i was so excited to see someone request nagi!! ty for sending this in <3
this is my first time doing headcanons!
if you guys like this one, please challenge me and send me more requests :3
i’m also working on a few stories rn, so please look forward to them!
streamer!nagi who is a popular twitch variety streamer. he prefers to stream competitive games with his best friend, reo, who also happens to stream. they play together all the time and their chats love their bestfriend dynamic.
but chat’s favorite type of stream is when nagi streams with you: his significant other.
streamer!nagi, who usually only plays competitive games, plays games more suitable to your tastes when you come to play on his stream.
he’ll let you sit in his chair so you can be comfortable. sometimes, you’ll make him sit on your lap because you think it’s hilarious. chat also finds it quite funny to see someone as big as nagi sit on the lap of his significantly smaller partner. you’d wrap your arms around him to reach the keyboard and you’d just barely reach to rest your chin on his shoulder. he shyly admits after the first few times that he happens to love sitting on your lap. even though, realistically, it makes more sense if you sat on his lap instead.
he would never say it aloud, because it just isn’t him to say such sappy things, but these are the moments that he holds most dear to his heart. seeing your excitement and joy while playing with him makes his heart swell with pride.
you also love interacting with his viewers — you go even as far to tease him in front of everybody!
but if it’s you, then he supposes it doesn’t matter what humiliating things you can come up with to embarrass him. hearing your sweet giggles, seeing your bright smile, and watching as your eyes light up in amusement is all he could ever wish for.
streamer!nagi who isn’t afraid to post about you and your relationship. he loves to show you off, especially because he wants everyone to see his beautiful significant other. you are his best accomplishment after all. he loves to rub it in his friend’s faces; they’re still shocked that nagi started dating before them.
streamer!nagi who’s still clingy even when he’s streaming. if you aren’t by his side, then he’ll text you throughout stream. he’ll keep checking his phone to ensure you hadn’t responded while he was distracted. nagi will smile at his phone unapologetically if you happen to text him something sweet or funny.
and of course, chat already knows how in love he is with you! so, they’re quick to notice what’s going on.
‘who’s he texting?!’
‘omg he’s so whipped ahah’
‘LUL it must be (name)’
streamer!nagi who’s clumsy and forgetful. there have been multiple instances where he thought he already ended stream or he was positive his camera was off. then, you’ll end up kissing him or sitting in his lap, thinking the two of you are sharing an intimate moment; but really, due to your boyfriend’s carelessness, everyone is still watching ! it’ll take a sound alert from someone donating or subscribing for the two of you to realize — it’s super easy to get lost in your own world when you’re with nagi!
streamer!nagi who stands up for you without a second thought when the occasional hate message pops up. he’s quick to diffuse the situation and he’s even quicker to defend your honor. he’ll do anything to protect you, even if that puts him in a difficult position.
you are his #1 priority and your boyfriend will always make sure you remember that.
#haezen requests#haezen writes!#blue lock headcanons#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#nagi seishiro#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro x you#blue lock#bllk x reader#bllk headcanons#bllk nagi
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they’re best friends!! (not really)
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x you (reader)
genre: fluff, comedy
kuroo as your best friend but you guys love each other scenario<3
“Your fly s’down.”
His head immediately whips down to check the state of his pants, which causes you to cackle in amusement.
He soon realizes that you were joking, but he doesn’t mind being laughed at if it means he’ll get to hear that beautiful, contagious laugh of yours. He feels like a teenager: he feels young again.
“How do you fall for it every time!?” You manage to speak out in between laughs, your stomach aching from the fit you just had.
His cheeks puff out in frustration and he quickly averts his gaze. He trudges forward, passing you with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Oh, c’mon Tetsu!” You skip to catch up to your best friend and stand right in front of him.
You have his full attention but he moves past you again. His eyes bore into yours; he keeps walking with a fast pace. You catch up to walk backwards in front of him so you can gauge his reaction with your next words. You gaze up at Kuroo with a wide smile. “How could I resist such an opportunity? It’s just toooo easy.”
Out of nowhere, he pulls you into him by grabbing a fistful of your sweatshirt. The force he used to pull you towards him knocks the breath out of you. Your faces are so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath and it would take no effort at all to reach his pink lips. If you wanted to, if he wanted to, you just had to slightly lean in.
But you see, Kuroo Tetsurou was a man who had self-control. (In his humble opinion) By the look in your eyes, he can tell that he flustered you. That look on your face was one he didn’t get to see very often. His self-control was wavering, but he’s the so-called master of holding back. If he had gone this long without making a move on you, he could get through it this time right? Anyways, the control was back in his hands. And that’s exactly how he preferred it to be.
“Watch where you’re going, (Name).” He whispers lowly with a smirk before letting go of your sweatshirt. “You’re gonna get run over not paying attention like that.”
You splutter, “No way! I saw it!” You shake your head with the hopes of him not pointing out your red face. He already did but he spares you further embarrassment.
“So you’re saying...you wouldn’t jump in front of them to save me!? What friend you are, Tetsu.” You say as regain your composure with your hands on your hips to feign confidence.
“Oh shut up!” He shouts.
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