Realizing He Loves You

ran haitani x f!reader

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chapter 8 - ran gets to be the good guy, what could go wrong, really?

a/n - violence, kidnapping, reader is tied up in a not sexy way, some villain reveals and twists, swearing, guns, murder(?), intrugue, corruption. same tone as the show. reader is cis female, dom ran, sub reader.

You wake up with a bad taste in your mouth. Feeling slowly comes back to your limbs, you flex your fingers, your forearms, your feet, your thighs, and realize that you are tied quite securely to a chair. There’s a slight chill, and your coat’s been removed. There’s a dull throbbing at the back of your head. You wait to open your eyes until you’ve been listening for a few minutes, you can hear the hum of a television in the corner, the sound of someone breathing. The kind of fear that’s quiet and cold, that makes it hard to speak, hard to breathe, settles in your chest. You open your eyes.

“You up?” A deep voice, one they don’t recognize. “Yukihira’s a fuckin’ amateur,” You blink in the darkness of the room, you’re in a basement, cinderblock walls painted green, one window duct taped shut, with a tarp swaying gently against the wall. “He overdid it.” You turn your head towards the voice and the largest man you’ve ever seen moves towards you. You let out a little frightened squeak. “That’s fuckin’ precious.” He says in a low growl, his blond hair tied away from his face in a messy bun.

“Can’t believe Yukihira and Haitani hit that,” you feel his eyes rake over your body, “You’ve got shitty taste in men.” He pulls a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up. He’s wearing a dirty white tank top that clings to his muscled abdomen, you can see his tattoos through the shirt. You swallow a couple times, bringing moisture for your mouth.

“W-where am I?” You can’t help the stutter that slips into your voice, your hands are shaking even as they’re tied to the chair.

“My place.” The man says, his eyes not leaving your chest when he speaks to you.

“I don’t have any money.” You say quietly, terror rippling through your body, and he nods.

“Don’t I know it.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Gonna ask who I am?” Ice creeps into your veins as you realize, no, you don’t have to.

“You’re Terano South.” He smirks. “You uh, I’ve seen your picture in Tooru’s files,” a thought hits you, “Wait, where the fuck is Tooru?” South takes the cig out of his mouth and blows smoke.

“He wants to see ya but I told him to fuck off,” South crouches in front of you, “I wanted to meet the only girl Haitani Ran ever loved first. Alone.” You shake your head.

“He didn’t love me, really.” The words are heavy on your tongue, something you’ve thought often, an idea you’d cling to like a life raft, when you would lay next to some boy who wasn’t Ran, who might have been alright in bed, serviceable even, but who wasn’t Ran Haitani, wasn’t a slow smirk and firm hand, wasn’t yours. Those words had carried you for years, that if he loved you he’d have followed you, he’d have left Roppongi, he’d have come for you. Even after all this time, it had been you, not him, who had sought him out.

“It’s not any of my business.” South says, bringing you back to the present. “But I wanted to meet you.” He offers you the half smoked cigarette.

“I’m alright.” You say quietly, stretching a little, testing the rope. He shrugs, popping it back in his mouth, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Do I get to know why I’m here?”

“Ah,” South shrugs, “You were giving so much to Bonten, I just thought I’d have you spread the wealth.” Something about this rings oddly false to you. “Yukihira’s been mine for about a year, and when he let me know that Haitani was,” he thinks about the right word for it, “Hanging around, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to get back at Mikey.” You blink a couple times. If you try hard, you can remember Mikey, remember the void darkness of his eyes, his blonde hair, his slight silhouette. “Of course, fucking with Haitani is just a bonus, but you,” he reaches out and cups your face with a gigantic hand, “You’re going to give me everything I want.” You swallow nervously.

“A-and what is it you want?” You ask, a pit forming in your stomach, but he waves your words away.

“A great number of things.” He rumbles, eyes flicking down to your breasts and then back to your face, “But I’ll start with the code to get into the evidence locker at city hall. I know they have a specific one that they use before trial, and I know that you know what the code is.”

“And if I refuse?” You ask, and he cocks his head at you.

“Interesting.” He considers, as if he’d never considered that you wouldn’t cooperate. “Interesting. Then I’ll hurt you.” Your jaw sets.

“Hurt me how?” You curse yourself for the pathetic tremble in your voice.

“Well, now,” he says, a smile plays on his lips, “That’s up to me isn’t it?” You shiver. “I can think of a lot of fun ways to make you see sense. Wonder if Haitani would still want you, after I made you mine?” He snarls the last word and you spit in his face, on instinct. “Stupid cunt,” South snaps, wiping his face on his already dirty tank top, and slapping you, his palm connecting with your face with a sound like thunder.

You’d take the hits back on the playground for your brother a thousand times, a hundred times, before this, it hurts, badly, but the sheer impact of it knocks the chair you're tied to onto its side, your wrist cracking against the concrete floor of whatever basement you’re in. “Yukihira,” South yells, “Come talk some sense into your fucking bitch.” There’s a pause, one you vaguely register as your brain floats back to your body and a tear leaks unbidden from your eye.

You blink a couple times, and South comes back into focus, oddly, he looks nervous, and jumpy rather than angry. You hear a loud crash and South takes off, bringing a walkie talkie to his lips. Your head spins on the ground, the pain in your wrist and face is intense, distractingly so, but it also grounds you, keeps you conscious. You rest your head on the cool ground, and listen to the growing shouts that clearly indicate a fight.

You start to wiggle your wrist out of the rope on your good arm, and it takes a few minutes, you can hear the kerfuffle escalating but as soon as you yank your hand free you get to work on your other hand, which is starting to swell. It works, but you’re slow, and clumsy. You bend forward to work at your ankles and the door to the room opens again. Your ex boyfriend steps into the room, knuckles bloody, hair askew.

“Fuck off,” You snap but he just looks concerned, as if your vitriol didn’t register. He notices several things very quickly, your already bruising cheek, your spot on the floor, your half untied form.

“Ah, ah,” He tuts, pulling your chair into an upright position. “Put those back,” he gestures to your wrists. “It’s nothing, right now. Just a little security breach.”

“If you actually cared about me,” You say, venom dripping from your voice, drawing your free hands into your chest so that he has to pry them away from you to attach them again. “You’d let me go.” He shrugs.

“I don’t like that he hurt you.” He says quietly. “But you knew what you were getting into when you re-entered this life, when you invited Haitani back in.”

“This is not about him,” You say angrily, “And Ran would never hit me. Not ever.”

“Is that so?” Tooru says, as if he’s barely paying attention to you. He opens his mouth to continue but his eyes roll in his head and he falls forward, blood at the base of his skull, stumbling and catching himself on the ground as Ran steps around the corner, tucking the slightly bloodied silver pistol into his shoulder holster.

“Of fucking course it is.” He rolls his eyes, and darts to you. “Bastard.” He whips out a knife from his belt. “If you’re injured, I’ll take it out on his fucking corpse. After I kill him.”

“Ran,” you’re in shock, numb, things are changing so quickly, “Ran I think my wrist is broken.” He presses a kiss to the side of your face and slices through the ropes on your waist and bends down to your ankles to free them.

Over his shoulder, you catch the familiarly monstrous silhouette darkening the hallway. Later, you would protest that your first thought was actually just to warn Ran, that it didn’t have anything to do with your faith in him, that it was complete instinct that had you rip the pistol from Ran’s upper back holster and point it at the blonde. You’d say you didn’t mean to pull the trigger, that you didn’t realize how sensitive the mechanism would be as you picked it up with your good hand and point it at South. There’s an ear splitting explosion as the bullet leaves the gun, hitting Terano South square in the chest.

“F-fuck,” the huge blonde falls to the ground, his breathing shallow. “Stupid, fucking bitch.” He spits blood on the floor, his eyes losing focus. Your ears are ringing in the silence, mind absolutely leaving your body as you stare at the body on the ground in the hallway. Ran lifts his head and takes exactly one beat to take stock of the situation, easing the gun from your shaking hands, holstering it, and lifting you in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s okay, baby, don’t think for me, just hold onto my neck, can you do that?”

“R-ran,” you get out, your teeth are chattering, your temperature is dropping, Ran doesn’t have to be a doctor to recognize the onset of medical shock.

“I need you to breathe.” Ran says sharply. “Can you do that for me?” You nod, trying to focus only on taking short measured breaths. “That’s my girl.” He steps over South’s body, turning your face into his shoulder.

“Did I kill him?” You twist in Ran’s arms, and start to tremble, “Ran, did I just, did I just kill someone?”

“Shhhh,” he breathes, “Don’t think about that right now.”

“Ran,” you raise your voice as he runs out of the back of what you now realize is a huge warehouse and gets into a car that’s got the engine running, “Ran I can’t just-”

“Shut up for me.” He says, more sharply than he means. You feel him rub your forearms as you take a shaky breath. “Just don’t try to think about it right now for me, alright, we’re gonna go back to my apartment and-” He’s cut off by your dry aching sob.

“Ran,” you choke out, “Can you make it go away,” you wipe your face on your hands, and he tucks your head under his chin.

“Yes, baby,” he coos, “Daddy can make it all go away.” You start to cry then in earnest. “Give me your wrist.” He orders softly and you hand it to him. He takes the swollen joint and raps on the partition between him and his driver. “We’ll need a doctor to the office’s after you drop us off.” He presses a kiss to the side of your face, feeling you gasp and shake as you cry, hard. “Did they touch you, baby?” He asks, and you hear the threat, the undertone in his voice centers you a little as you shake your head and bury your face in his chest.

“R-ran,” you choke out, “I shot s-someone.”

“Let’s stop saying that out loud, darling,” he coos, “Can you do that for me?” You nod, sniffing loudly. “Gonna let me take care of things?” You nod again, the only warmth in your eyes is his own reflection. “That’s my girl.” You relax against him, he smells like pine and musk and right now, you cling to him, locking your arms around his neck as the car speeds off.

Ran rubs circles in your back as you start to sob violently, the kind of aching, headache causing angry tears he’s seen from you only once before.

“You know,” You’d said, leaning against the doorway to his room. “I’m leaving in a week.” He looks up at you, confused. It’s late summer, the golden days of August tinged with rot. “For college, Ran, I’m going to Tokyo.”

“You were serious about that?” He says, rolling his neck, listening to the joints pop. “Leaving me, for college?”

“It doesn’t have to be leaving you,” you protest gently. “I um,” he watches that shy smile that he loves so much creep across your face. “I know you have stuff here, with Rin, and Hanma, and whatever it is you all get up to.” He raises an eyebrow. “I know I know I’m choosing ignorance here.” He gestures for you to sit, but you don’t take him up on the offer.

“I mean, you’re not going.” He says, mouth pressing into a hard line. “No, I want you here, and you’re going to stay here, Lamb, you don’t want to go to school-”

“Yes I do.” You cut him off. “I do and I’m going and, and you’re not going to be able to scare me into staying Ran.” His eyes darken, wanna fucking bet, his mind races, imaginging what he could do to- “I have an offer for you.” You say, circumventing his planning quickly.

“Shoot.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest, walls up.

“Come with me.” You say, and there’s this quiet delicate urgency to your voice. “Get a normal job in Tokyo, Ran, fuck this shit, you’re smart, you could do it. There has to be something you want to do more than selling drugs, and all this violence I mean-”

“You think I can just roll up to an office,” Ran says, almost amused at the absurdity of the thought, “And get a job?”

“You could work at a bakery or something,” you say quickly, “Or in a kitchen, you could do data entry, maybe get your GED, finish high school-”

“Babe,” Ran laughs, “I don’t wanna do any of that shit.” He watches you deflate. “But don’t worry, you’re gonna stay here and move in with us. We need someone to clean, anyway.”

“I’m not,” you stop yourself, and take a deep breath, shoving down your anger at his immediate assumption that you’d be his live-in maid. “Ran. I’m going, I’m going to college. The question is if you’re coming with me or if you’re going to stay here and let your life continue to deteriorate.”

“Deteriorate?” Ran’s eyes narrow sharply, “Didn’t I save your fucking ass, on more than one occassion, and you wanna come in here and-”

“I want better for you,” your voice finally rises in pitch, “I want more, don’t you want more, than like, fucking around, never learning, never getting better?”

“I like my life.” Ran says, defensively, “I like my life a lot, and I’m not about to leave Rindou here and abandon all the shit we’ve built,” he leans forward, “We rule this fucking city, baby, and I wanna do it with you at my side I-”

“Except I wouldn’t be at your side.” You snap. “Because I don’t approve of violence, and I’d apparently be at home making you dinner.” He smirks.

“And you’d look sexy doing it.” He jerks his head towards the other seat at the table, but you stay at the doorway.

“I am leaving.” He hears it now, the desperation in your voice, “And I love you, Ran Haitani.” He doesn’t say anything. “I love you, so much.” You say again. “I think about you, when you’re out with your friends, I get so worried that my stomach hurts, when I know you’re doing dangerous shit, I, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I can’t fucking live like this all the time knowing that you’re willingly putting yourself at risk, I-”

“I can take care of myself.” He says sharply, “I don’t need-”

“I know you don’t need me worrying,” Your hands shake harder, “I just, I think you’d be safer doing something else, anything–”

“You know I’ve killed people.” He says coldly, and watches you flinch like he’d swung at you. “I’m nineteen and I’ve seen the inside of a prison cell more than I’ve seen my own fucking mother..I am not the kind of person who can,” he laughs again but it’s joyless, “Go get a job at a bakery. And,” He stands, taking a step forward, towering over you, “I’m not the kind of person who you can just leave.”

“I,” your voice trembles, “I just wanted, I want,”

“To change me,” Ran says, eyes flashing dangerously, “To make me a completely different person, so that I’d fit in with your bullshit intellectualist friends? You think you’d want me if I was the kind of man your mother would approve of? You think you’d still want me without all this?” That makes your eyes shoot open and you lean towards him even as your lower lip quivers.

“I would want you. Period. End of sentence. That’s what love means. It means I want you.” You take a deep breath, and steady yourself, his expression is still completely unreadable. “I mean I,” you reach for him and he doesn’t reach back, but lets you take his dead fish hand, lets you lace your fingers with his. “Come with me.” You whisper. “I think you’re worth it,” you rock onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. He remains impassive. “I think you’re worth saving, I wanna save you like you saved me, that’s all.” He nods slowly, and pushes you away from him. You feel your heart break in your chest. You’d never realized an organ could be so brittle. “Don’t you,” you warble, “Don’t you love me,” your voice is tiny, “Ran, please, say it back.”

“Get out.” He says, looking at the door. “Get going before I lock that fucking door.”

“Ran.” You beg, hating the sound of your own voice as you start to cry, hard. “Ran please,”

“I said fuck off,” He snaps, “I said fuck straight off with that shit, you wanna fucking save me, it’s too goddamn late, do you know how that fucking sounds?”

“I’ll, I’ll text you, tomorrow, I have a week we can-” “Don’t fucking bother.” He fumbles in his pocket for a cigarette. “Get out.” You don’t however, leave, you stand there, for some reason, tears pouring from your eyes, crying hard. “Are you waiting for me to comfort you?” He snarls, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “I can get any bitch I goddamn want I can-”

“Fuck you,” you choke out, wiping your face on your sleeve. “I’m going.” Please don’t. Ran thinks.

“Good.” He says. Please don’t leave, please don’t, please don’t, please, I’m begging I’ll beg. “Hope you find some other bastard to annoy.” You cry harder, but turn your back on him and head towards the door. It opens a second before you get there, and you go to push past Rindou, who sees you crying and grabs you by the upper arm roughly, stopping your escape.

“The hell is going on?” He asks. Ran lights up his cigarette.

“Let her go.” Ran says, shrugging. “Bitch wants to leave, let her go.” Rindou’s brow furrows, but makes a quick calculation, and drags you outside, slamming the door.

“You think I’m gonna let you near him ever again?” Rindou snarls, as if you’re not crying so hard you can barely see, as if your face isn’t puffy and swollen. The grey skies give way to a gentle rain as you stand outside the apartment. “If you leave, if you hurt him, I will never fucking forgive you.”

“I g-gave him a choice,” you choke out. “He told me to leave.” Rindou lets go of your arm, surprised. “He d-doesn’t love me.” You watch Rindou consider, consider the entire summer, how you’d been the first girl Ran hadn’t gotten bored of, the first girl he’d ever touched softly, the first girl who stayed over without being tossed to Hanma or Rindou in the morning. He remembers how you’d balked at the idea of being shared, even when Ran had ordered you to do it, how you’d refused, genuinely confused by the request.

“But I love you, Ran.” You’d said.

“Go, then.” Rindou takes a step back from you. “Just go. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to him.” You keep crying and walk down the empty stairwell alone, taking the long way home so that you’re cried out by the time you get to your kitchen. No one waits up for you any more. You collapse on your bed, and catch something dark draped over the chair of your vanity, and take out your phone.

You: I still have your jacket.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, hating those words, they taste so off on his tongue that he nearly recoils. “For being an asshole.” You look up, and he registers your bruising face, your likely concussion. “When you left, I should have held your hand, I should have begged, I wanted to, I wanted to tell you to stay. I was,” he pauses, “I was young.”

“It’s okay.” You croak.

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” He promises, “Gonna make everything up to you baby, I love you, love you so much, alright?”

“Never stopped,” you wipe your face on his shirt and he chuckles. “Embarrassing but I still have your jacket, if you want it.” That hits him harder than he expects, the idea that you held onto that cheap black jacket, that someone had embroidered for him when he was a teenager, for all these years.

“Later.” He says softly. You feel him caressing your silhouette, his lips on the top of your cheeks, his hand on your waist. “We’re gonna go to my office,” he says softly, “I’m gonna give you some pills they’ll help you chill out.” You nod, burying your face in his neck. “Wish I’d killed Yukihira.” He mumbles, trying to make a joke but you shudder.

“D-do you think I k-killed that guy?” You hiccup, and he pretends to think about it.

“Probably.” He says honestly. “Not many people get shot like that and live.” You lock your arms around his neck, fresh tears in your eyes. “You won’t go down for it,” he massages your scalp, “Promise I’ll take care of it.” He pauses. “You trust me?” You blink up at him, catching your breath long enough to say,

“With my life.”

Ran tucks a blanket around your body as the xanax helps your mind drift off to sleep before joining the rest of Bonten in the private dining room they did business in. Rindou glances in his direction, a bruise forming under his left cheek.

“Who gotcha?” Ran asks casually and Rindou rolls his eyes.

“Who the fuck do you think? Terano on his way out of there to get to you.” He says and Sanzu lets out a manic cackle.

“Heard your bitch took care of business for you.” Ran’s eyes narrow and he whirls on the hitman, but Kakucho clears his throat.

“We need to strategize. The two of you can whip your dicks out later.” Ran mutters something under his breath, sitting down next to Rindou. Mikey stands.

“Four warehouses, and three of our apartments were raided by federal officers who were apparently tipped off by someone who works for our organization. Terano acted on that information by way of his inside spy in city hall, Yukihira Tooru. The feds didn’t find shit,” Mikey’s eyes are dark and cold, “But we won’t be able to use those warehouses again for months.” Kokonoi massages his temples.

“I’ll figure something out, but it’ll be expensive. We got lucky.” He stands, sweeping the cards and empty drinks that cover the table they’re sitting at. “The way I see it, here are our players. We got City Hall, the feds.” He takes Ran’s empty Manhattan, the orange peel curled and fragrant. “We got Terano, and other gangs, and the link, is Yukihira and Ran’s girl.” Ran cocks his head a little.

“I didn’t think Terano had a crew,” Ran mutters, thinking.

“He doesn’t,” Rindou confirms, “I keep tabs on him.”

“So where did he get all those guys, and also,” Kachucho says, “Yukihira doesn’t have the kinda clout at city hall that can move a whole ass SWAT team.” Ran nods.

“His dad does.” You say, standing at the doorway, eyelids heavy as every mobster in the room turns to look at you. “His father,” you rub your eyes with your good hand, your other wrist heavily bandaged. “His father is the police commissioner. And this,” You pad over to the table and frown. “It would make sense if he gave some of his dirty cops to Terano to use to take you down, which would serve several of his needs, one,” you stop and yawn, “Sorry, one, to get rid of me, because I keep throwing his men in jail when they pull shit. Two, if he’s crooked in favor of Terano then he’d benefit from any power diminishing he could accomplish of um,” you think about it, “You call yourselves bonten, right?” There’s a silence. “My head hurts.” You mumble.

“So this is where Ran’s braincell has been.” Rindou says eventually. “You took it with you when you left.” You laugh halfheartedly, and Ran scowls, yanking you into his lap.

“C’mere.” He says, nestling you against his chest.

“I actually came in for more drugs,” you say, twisting to look up at Ran. Mikey’s eyes fall on you, his gaze is dark and cold.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, and you swallow, trying to ignore the throbbing of your wrist and head.

“I’d bet my life on it.” You shrug. “I kinda am, already, aren’t I?” Mikey nods slowly. “For the record,” you return his joyless stare. “I think you should go to prison, and if I could, I’d put you there.” There’s a cold silence, even Ran doesn’t move. “But I want the commissioner gone more.” Ran’s grip on you tightens, a warning, but Mikey doesn’t seem baited.

“You wanna make a deal.” Mikey says, leaning forward, placing his palms flat on the table. “Do you think you’re in any position to negotiate?” Ran’s grip on your waist tightens, but you respond anyway.

“I,” and for the first time the vulnerability surfaces under the pseudo calm of the drugs. “I shot a man, a few hours ago.” Your lips twitch downward. “My grip on reality is um, tenuous at best. But I’m willing to give you, to give you what you want, if it means you’ll take the commissioner down. I don’t know if that counts as negotiation.” Ran opens his mouth to speak but Mikey puts a hand up.

“And what,” He says, “Is it that you think I want?”

“I can testify that Yukihira is dirty.” You lift your head. “He’s the D.A. in charge of organized crime, which would mean every clue he touched, every case he’s built against every man in this room would get thrown out because it’s,” you put up air quotes, “Fruit of the poison tree, aka inadmissible in a court of law in this country.” You shrug. “I can’t stop them from investigating you, but I can make them start from scratch.”

“Holy shit.” Kokonoi breathes. You rub your eyes.

“How do we take down the commissioner,” Mikey demands. You sniff, tears welling in your eyes as your broken wrist throbs. You wipe your eyes as every man in the room holds his breath.

“You have to um, you have to trick Tooru into outing his own father.” You swallow. “Or um, I have to. But I think I can do it. You’d have to trust me.” You turn in Ran’s lap. “This would mean letting me um,” you grit your teeth for a second and let out a long breath, controlling the pain in your head and arm, shoving it down, “Letting me out of your sight for a few minutes.”

` “Then no.” Ran says. “Then we do something else.”

“Haitani,” Mikey cautions.

“No fucking way,” Ran stands up, depositing you in the chair, “I just got her back, I get that none of you,” his voice cuts through the room like a blade, “None of you have shit like this, attachments, but I, I’m not gonna live without her because you wanna avoid getting your ass dragged into court.”

“Ran-”

“Shut up,” He snaps at you, “You’re the last person I want to-”

“Haitani,” Mikey glowers up at him, and Ran closes his mouth, but puts his hand up.

“I’m gonna talk to my bitch outside.” He pulls you into a standing position. “Anyone have an issue with that?” No one speaks. “Great.” Ran drags you into the hallway, ignoring your protests. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re just gonna walk into a room of fucking criminals and open that mouth of yours? Mikey could have shot you, fuck Sanzu absolutely would have shot you-”

“Ran I know what I’m doing-”

“You do not.” He hisses.

“Ran,” you look up at him, eyes wide, pleading. “Ran I have to do this because after this is over I’m resigning.” He blinks down at you, shocked. Yes, you quitting your job was part of the plan, but he thought he’d have to knock you up first, that it would take years. “I have to do one last good thing but I,” you chew on your lower lip. “My faith is shaken. In,” you gesture broadly, “In the goodness of people. And of institutions, I,” you sigh. “I’ve known Tooru a long time, and he just,” you shake your head, “Handed me over to them like it was nothing, I mean, I slept with him, he stayed over, he told me he loved me, and then, for what, he betrayed me for power, for money? For revenge?” You shiver, and Ran softens, realizing what a blow this is for you.

“After this, you’ll resign?”

“Yeah,” You say, your voice tiny and small. “I’ll get some corporate counsel job, where um, where I can’t end up tied to a chair in someone's basement.” He pulls you into his chest. No, no you’re not, he thinks, it’ll be a miracle if I ever let you out of my sight again. Bbut he doesn’t say it.

“I’m gonna take care of things, alright, you’re gonna be safe from here on out because anyone coming near you,” you catch the steely glint in his eyes, “Has to get through me.” You take a fistful of his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I feel like if I hadn’t reached out to you-”

“You calling me was the best thing that possibly could have happened to me.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Let’s go back in there, you just stay in my lap this time like a good little lamb.” You laugh lightly.

“Painkillers first?”

“How about booze now,” He offers, “Painkillers tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” You agree and he cups your face and you nuzzle his hand affectionately before leading you back into the room.

“Baby is going to behave.” He announces. “She does this for us, and none of you get near her again.” Mikey nods, and gestures to the table.

“So what,” you feel his dark eyes boring into yours, “Is your plan?”

Scoring, In More Ways Than One | Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x Reader

When you ask your non-writer friends to help you name your fic and you end up with football puns, but I’m not even mad about it.

This is a disgustingly late submission to @prettyboykatsuki​‘s Corruption collab. I’m so sorry that I’m now so late you probably forgot all about the collab entirely, but thank you so much for letting me join! This has been dying in my docs for months so it feels amazing to actually finish it and I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You knew when you first started dating Kunigami that he took football extremely seriously, and it was something that you accepted about him.  He’s waiting until he makes it into the Pro-leagues to have sex with you, because he can’t have any vices or distractions from his childhood dream, but Raichi thinks you’re the biggest distraction there is.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, no beta, virgin!reader, implied/hinted virgin!Kunigami, threesomes, degradation from Raichi, praise, blowjobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, sweat, cumplay, creampies, no protection, voyeurism.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x f!reader.

Word Count: 8.6k.

Qualifying matches were often a hostile environment for your boyfriend and his football team, the tensions high as they made their way up the tables towards the finals. During these periods it was normal for you to see less of Kunigami as he spent all his free time practising with his team, but for a few cherished moments each evening, you’d have him all to yourself.

You’d been lucky enough to accompany him to the championships this year. Often having to resort to FaceTime, texts and voice calls to keep close during the distance in your relationship. But as well as getting to spend more time with your boyfriend during downtime and watching the games from the sidelines, this meant you now got to experience how hostile the environment could get with his teammates.

“That goal was mine, Kunigami.” Raichi snarled after shouldering his way into your hotel room that evening, “You always have to play the fuckin’ hero, huh?”

“You weren’t open,” Kunigami replied smoothly, towelling his hair dry as he stood at the foot of the bed with a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, “And we needed to win.”

“Are you trying to say I couldn’t have made it?” Raichi scoffed.

“There was no way,” Kunigami shrugged, “That’s why Isagi passed to me.”

“And you thought you’d just score the winning goal.” Raichi rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t that the point of the game, Raichi?” Kunigami tutted, dropping the towel onto the office chair in the room to cross his arms over his chest, “Scoring goals?”

“You’re so lucky to have such a good guy ain’t ya, sweetheart.” Raichi seethed, pure venom dripping from his every word.

“Yeah, she is.” Kunigami furrowed his brows, “And I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Keep reading

Happy Iwa day! Can you please create a ‘waking up with Iwa’ drabble?

Thank you!

... dont blame me for taking this fluff and turning it into smut tho hfygusdgfd sorry sorry i am only wholesome in asks but not in writing

tw yandere, somnophilia, hate-fucking, possession, noncon

You've haven't gotten used to the achy, sore feeling of having your poor pussy stretched and abused for hours when he starts bothering you during naps too. When your brief moments of sleep get interrupted by a slow few pets along your hairline, your sides, along the curve of your ass. It'd be romantic if it was anyone else, if you didn't wish you could blink his face out of existence.

Iwaizumi's roughed up fingers toy along your slit with spit-strung lines that still leave your thighs all sticky, when you barely manage to pull yourself back into consciousness. The room is never how you left it. He can't stop himself from cleaning up in the pretense of love and care, and apart from angering you -you could help if he didn't insist on fucking you until you passed out- it at least serves as some sort of sense to tell the time.

As you try to push yourself up onto one arm, Iwaizumi grunts softly, before breathing your name. You hate how he says that too. You can tell that his first instinct is to push you back down, but instead he just dips his digit in and out of your awfully sore hole. You notice that the room is clean. The fresh sheet smell is nice, and you bury yourself deeper into them.

"Morning, doll."

You choose to ignore the wistful longing in his tone, and jerk as he strokes a particularly sore spot. "Aw, Iwaizumi, that hurts." He doesn't stop, and you swear a slight glint of enjoyment even passes over his face when his fingertips curl deeper inside you. "Aw, aw, that hurts!"

"Hm, someone's still sore from before, huh." You nod, and try to reach behind you a little to dig your nails into his forearm- but he presses your wrist to your back with a pleased hum. "Well, maybe you deserve that, doll." Tears spring into your eyes, and you glare. God, you hate him. Even if he hadn't stolen you away from your family and locked you up in his fancy prison, even if he hadn't raped you and embarrassed you and hurt you- you'd hate him.

It lingers on the tip of your tongue when he pulls his fingers out of your wet, because of his spit and the motions only, pussy and slots them between his plush lips. Olive eyes find yours as your mouth opens, and maybe he knows you, because one brow lifts. I hate you. I hate you, you think, and bite your lip hard, but it doesn't come out of your mouth. Your body refuses, and you tear up more. Last time you said it left you choking on his cock for long enough to have you gagging your throat raw.

But your tongue still brushes your teeth, and you whimper when he rolls you over. "I-"

"You love me." He pats an impatient hand against your thigh, and you lift it to make room for his narrow hips and thick thighs. "You love," he kisses your leg, "me. This gives you meaning. You're right where you need to be." Of course his cock is already hard. Of course the flushes head is leaking a bead of precum, he can't ever help himself. "My doll. My little puppet."

He lines up, and his mouth corners twitch up a little when your lip is bitten painfully tight between your teeth. You cry out a little noise at the sting, the hurt, the already raw flesh getting overabused from the second he slides in-- shudders above you like he likes it. It hurts. It really really hurts, and yet, your cunt squeezes around him as wetness automatically lubes up his thick cock. "You love this, pretty girl. If you don't yet, you will."

Love Galore

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f!reader x bokuto koutsro

chapter summary: an introspective view of the story's events from the beginning — through the eyes of Akaashi Keiji

wc: 19.2k+ [jfc i really am so sorry]

a/n: thank you to those that have stuck by me and this story, despite my hiatus. i truly appreciate every single person that's ever read a single word of LG, or left lovely messages/comments, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. i worked on this chapter, little by little every day, and i promise i never stopped thinking about you guys. i kept thinking it was done, but apparently i had a lot to say haha. this still isn't the end, but please enjoy the chapter, i've worked really hard on it and i hope you like it :) your love and support mean the world to me, xoxo

Masterlist

chapter 14 ✧ souffle pancakes

Akaashi doesn’t say much, but he sees it all. 

It was a habit that he’s had for as long as he could remember, practically born with. Practically second nature, it seems, for him to keep a keen and sharp eye on his surroundings, making mental notes until it’s all piled up and cluttered into his brain. He’s been called many things in his short life. Observant. Perspective. Attentive. Psychic. Genius. Creepy. 

Akaashi prefers to just be called Keiji. 

Most of the time, he thinks it’s a blessing.  

When he was younger, he’d impress all the old ladies in his neighborhood with his mindless comments.

Have you lost weight?

That’s a new jacket isn’t it, oba-san?

Oh, that must be a different perfume you’re wearing today.

Comments that sounded adorable coming from a child, when all the others in his age range could barely notice if they were even wearing matching shoes. 

Sometimes, he’s thankful. It was what got him so far in the sport he loved, after all. His ability to see things others usually just brush to the side — how an opponent grits his teeth and flexes his jaw right before he jumps up for the spike, or the directions their eyes tend to flicker to right before they pass the ball. How the twitch of their lip meant anger and annoyance, or the restless running around the court showing impatience. 

Akaashi sees it all – each bit of information sorted into the compartments in his mind, saving it for when he needs to make his move. This wasn’t something inherent – it was a skill he only learned with time, through trials and errors until his mind became a well-oiled machine. Eventually, it’d become difficult for anyone to escape the sharpness of Akaashi’s eyes, and it’s a skill he’s always used to his own benefit. 

If that player’s angry, it will be easy to bait him. If he’s impatient, then it’s just a matter of time before he makes a mistake. And Akaashi will be right there waiting. 

It was easily applicable outside of the court as well.

In the hallways of school, he’d learned to ignore the giggles and whispers in his wake. Making friends was simple, almost effortless. An off-handed comment about someone’s new haircut, bringing his classmates snacks and drinks as if he had just accidentally bought too much at the convenience store – not a single person thinking twice at the fact that he’d miraculously gotten all their favorites. 

Akaashi was the guy that would notice if you were wearing different nail polish, or if the charms on your backpack were different, would note if you’ve started a new sport or were talking about that new drama just a little bit more often – and he’d say a something that could be compliment, with only a few words at best, but it was enough for you to note that he was paying attention. 

In his second year of junior high, he’d even become quite the hot topic among the girls in his class, because somehow he could always tell who had a crush on who. They’d flock around his desk like vultures, picking at whatever bits and scraps they could get from his carcass until he had no choice but to throw them a bone. 

If you get this bread for Yagi-kun, he’ll really like it. 

Arakawa-san told me he likes girls with short hair. 

Toku-san studies in the library on Wednesdays, you should bring him a drink.

The boys would try to act like they’re not interested in the commotion that always seemed to surround Akaashi. Gossip? That’s for the girls – not something for boys to partake in. But it was only a matter of time before they’d come running to Akaashi for a “psychic reading”, never wanting to admit that all they really wanted was a bit of guidance. 

They’d come running back to him, tittering and snickering whenever his advice would work. Suddenly, he was seen as a genius, a guru – as much as any preteen boy could actually be.

It was easy, really – a person’s body language can often tell you much more than words could ever manage to say, and Akaashi had always been an avid reader. He’d try to tell them as much, try to teach his friends what to look for and where, but alas the ability had still been dubbed a ‘gift’.

But sometimes, it can be a curse. 

For a long while, there were only two kinds of people in Akaashi’s life: those that wanted to use him for his talents, and those that seemed to resent him for it. 

It was actually comical how fast it is for some to turn their backs. Flipping around on him like a switch, taking all the brightness with them and leaving Akaashi alone in the dark. 

He had learned – the hard way – that most people actually quite hated the notion of being perceived. It strikes them with a sense of anxiety that was unfamiliar – not exactly fear, but something akin to uneasiness. The constant feeling of eyes on your back was enough to drive anyone crazy, even more so when you’re meant to be somewhere safe. 

It’s not as if Akaashi was doing it on purpose. Sometimes, he wasn’t even aware he was doing anything at all. He wasn’t watching anyone specifically, but was it his fault if certain things caught his attention? Was it wrong for him to be observant of his surroundings? His classmates were part of his environment, it was only natural for them to be part of his observations as well. It was nothing personal, it was just a habit.

It was difficult to explain as such when a boy from his class called him a stalker for knowing he was in the soccer club, because how else could Akaashi have known? He hardly knew Akaashi. Even though Akaashi pointed out the grass stains on his socks and the pair of cleats peeking out of his bag, the boy still threatened Akaashi to stay far away. 

It was even harder for him to calm the angry girl from two classes over – the one that happened to always eat at the lunch table next to his in the cafeteria. He froze when she stormed up to him, tossing a baby blue hair clip on his table. Steam was billowing out from her eyes, saying she’d only ever spoken a grand total of six words to him, so how the hell does he know her favorite color? Never mind the fact that her earrings, her phone case, her jacket, her thermos, and her bento are all that same color. It was an educated guess, one that was clearly correct if her angry reaction was enough to go by. 

It was frustrating, honestly. Did she even know how pathetic his own classmate looked, sniffing around Akaashi and asking how he should approach the cute girl from class 2-C? Was it really wrong for Akaashi to suggest getting her a hair clip in the same color? What difference did it make whether he figured out random stuff about her or not? 

But the scowl she threw in his direction had almost successfully masked the panic that swept through her eyes. But Akaashi had seen it. 

She was afraid. Of him.

She had called him names then, names he had heard before. Weirdo. Stalker. Creep. Names that never bothered him in the past, but coupled with the look of fright on this girl's face – whose favorite color he knew, but name remained foreign – all of it sounded much harsher than he ever remembered. Especially when she dumped the rest of her milk on the top of his head. 

After that incident, there was a sort of shift in public opinion on Akaashi. The whispers that followed him down the hall no longer mingled with soft giggles and smiles. They were whispers behind narrowed eyes and scowling faces, disapproving frowns upon any lips that would say his name.

Some friends stood by his side, half-heartedly defending him in a way that told him they didn’t actually care – they just wanted to stay on his good side. Nosy busybodies that only shielded him from the wary stares so they could keep asking him for his advice on whether he thought Dairiki-kun like girls with bangs or without.

It was one of the few times Akaashi had really, truly felt pathetic. His life was sitting in the sweaty palms of his peers, and a single wrong move will have him crushed by their grubby little fingers. It was infuriating, suffocating – having to think twice, thrice, four times before Akaashi could even say a single word. 

But they had already decided on the box they would put Akaashi in, and he could do nothing more than sit still. Sit still and ignore the sneers and scowls from people that he used to call friends. Stay quiet when the boys of his class would shove him around the halls calling him freak. Look the other way when he’d come back to his desk and his things were destroyed. Ignore the pang in his chest when he ate his lunches alone in the library. 

At the turn of his adolescence – his first year of high school – Akaashi decided that things needed to change. 

Fukurodani Academy was a different setting – different classes, different halls, different people.

He would be a different Akaashi Keiji. No longer putting himself out there, or offering his observations to anyone who would listen. He would just keep to himself, and not let anyone close enough to contain him again.

Then he met Bokuto Kotaro. 

The boy was simplistic in nature. Kind and bright, with a horde of people that always followed him around wherever he went. Dozens of eyes constantly tracked his every move without fail, and Bokuto happened to be the type of person that thrived in such an environment. Though, despite being interested in the same sport, Akaashi never felt the need to become a part of his entourage. He was exactly the kind of guy Akaashi wanted – needed –  to avoid. 

But some things are simply not up to him. Each morning, he managed to mask the slight surprise on his face each time he walked into the volleyball team’s gym, and found that Bokuto was already there. And had probably been there for who knows how long. When Akaashi joined this team, he fully expected to always be the first to show up, and last to leave the gym each day, just as it was at his previous school. 

Yet, there Bokuto was, every morning without fail, nothing but his grunts and the echoes of the ball spiking on the ground filling the gym. Every morning, he’d greet Akaashi with too much energy, the corners of his lips never dropping despite the fact that Akaashi never responded with anything other than a silent nod. 

For a little while, that was all they had. A silent agreement to work together on the sport they loved, to be a team on the court, and strictly teammates off of it. Nothing more, nothing less. Bokuto continued being his charming self, scoring victories and basking in adoration as he was wont to do. Akaashi stood content to the side, satisfied with the joy of knowing his serves were in the capable hands of such an ace. 

Akaashi should have known that it was only a matter of time until Bokuto would flip everything around. 

They had been alone in the gym for at least an hour at that time, while the rest of Fukurodani Volleyball Club had gone home at an actual reasonable hour. The sun was already slipping past the horizon, taking with it the last tendrils of the day’s light. Bokuto had begged Akaashi to stay a little longer and help with his spikes, as usual. And Akaashi was quick to agree, as usual. 

What was unusual was the way Bokuto kept glancing at Akaashi from the corner of his eye, and Akaashi wanted to laugh at Bokuto’s pathetic excuse of being discreet.

“What is it?” Akaashi asked, uncharacteristically breaking the silence. 

Bokuto jumped, startled that Akaashi noticed him watching. It took a second for Bokuto to gather himself, absentmindedly bouncing the volleyball on the gleaming gym floor, face scrunched in a way that Akaashi had only seen while Bokuto was on the court.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Bokuto opened with those words, bouncing the ball one last time before catching it tightly in his hands. Akaashi’s silence was the only indicator of an agreement, and Bokuto took this as his cue to continue. 

“Why do you hold back?” 

There were many things Akaashi thought Bokuto might have asked. This one wasn’t even really on the list. Akaashi had forgotten what it felt like to be caught so off guard, unable to do anything but stand stupidly as his mind buffered. Bokuto’s pupils moved imperceptibly quickly, raking themselves all over Akaashi. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Akaashi replied carefully, his shoulders rigid, nervously clasping his hands in front of him.

Bokuto frowned a little deeper, resting the volleyball now between his arm and his hip. “You don’t have to lie, Akaashi. I can tell you’re not… I see how you watch everything, but you always catch yourself before doing anything. It’s like you’re scared or… or – I don’t know! But you are, you’re holding back! I can just tell.”

It took all of Akaashi’s willpower not to let his jaw hang loose, only allowing himself to blink slowly. He dug through his mind, searching through every crevice for any memory of someone being able to read him like this. He went out of his way to be invisible, yet the overly cheerful, happy go lucky, sunshine ace of the volleyball team had somehow managed to still see right through him. 

“So why?” Bokuto prodded again, and his tone could easily be confused as haughty, but Akaashi knew better. Akaashi continues to study Bokuto, the poor boy fidgeting under Akaashi’s frigid stare. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t back away. His weight shifted from one foot to the other, but he still waited for an answer

“It’s a long story,” Akaashi said quietly, turning around to walk towards the volleyball cart. 

He hoped that would be the end of it, that Bokuto would take the hint and leave him alone. But before he could take more than three steps toward the cart, it clattered loudly and rolled away with the momentum of the volleyball that just landed into it from across the gym. 

Akaashi turns back to Bokuto, a single eyebrow raised incredulously at Bokuto’s now empty hands. A corner of Bokuto’s mouth lifts devilishly, and he offers Akaashi nothing but a shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ve got a bit of time,” Bokuto rests his hands on his hips, shifting all his weight onto one leg. Akaashi wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, and wanted to ask Bokuto why he even cared. He was happy with how things were right now, and there was no need for him to do anything drastic. 

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Akaashi could feel no truth behind it. And one look at Bokuto told him that he was not winning this round. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and heaved out a sigh.

“If I don’t hold myself back, then people tend to get intimidated,” Akaashi offered, and that was as much as he was willing to expand on at this moment. “And when people are scared of you… that’s when you find out how nasty they can actually be.” 

“So what? You’re scared?” Bokuto asked, and Akaashi scoffed because of course he wouldn’t understand. Everyone loved Bokuto, and even those that didn’t still held some sort of respect for him. He was the ace of the volleyball team, and he was the school’s heartthrob. What the hell would he know about being shunned and isolated?

Akaashi opened his mouth to say something snarky, the words burning up his throat and on to the tip of his tongue. Except when his lips parted, it wasn’t his voice that came out.

“If you hold yourself back because of random, faceless people, then aren’t you letting them win?” Bokuto interrupted Akaashi before he could speak, as if he knew that if he let the setter say whatever he was about to say, then the conversation would take a dive into the worst. “I hate losing, Akaashi.”

“What does me losing have anything to do with you?” Akaashi asked.

“Because we’re partners now. I got your back, and if you lose, I lose,” Bokuto smiled this time, and Akaashi’s chest felt a little bit lighter, “Like I said, I hate losing. So don’t make me into a loser, okay? Or it’s gonna be a problem.”

Bokuto brushes past Akaashi as he finishes speaking, hands resting on the back of his head as he walks the distance across the gym and to the volleyball cart. Akaashi’s eyes followed him in awe, a sudden fluttering in his heart and stomach as the ace digs out a new volleyball and bounces it twice onto the hardwood floors.

“We’ve only done eighty serves,” Bokuto changes the topic seamlessly, continuing on as if he hadn’t rendered Akaashi speechless, “We gotta do at least twenty more before Yamiji-san comes back to kick us out.” 

Akaashi felt his feet move, his arms positioning themselves to receive, his body running around the gym until sweat dripped on the floor all around him. But his thoughts were elsewhere, plagued with memories of a past that had apparently silenced him into a pathetic existence. He’d thought this path would be better, make him feel like he belonged.

Maybe for a while, he convinced himself that it did, satisfied with existing as a shadow on the wall. He hadn’t anticipated Fukurodani's golden-eyed Adonis to shatter the illusion with so much ease, Akaashi wonders how he ever fooled himself into believing it in the first place. 

They didn’t say a single word to each other for the rest of their practice. Or on the walk home. Or at morning practice the next day. Bokuto didn’t speak to Akaashi until the middle of their afternoon practice, when Akaashi had received every single one of Konoha’s spikes and gave Bokuto elegant, risky serves that had everyone on the other side of the net scrambling on their feet. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bokuto exclaimed while pumping his fist, giving Akaashi a pat on the back that made the setter jerk forward two steps, “Keep that up, Akaashi!”

Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side. That’s when he noticed the thumbs up Bokuto had thrown you from across the court, and the relieved smile you returned as you flipped the numbers on the scoreboard. You and Bokuto held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, and Akaashi felt like he’d eavesdropped on an entire conversation. 

You shivered slightly when Bokuto broke away, as if Akaashi’s icy stare washed over your entire body. Then you turned your head unnaturally quick and met Akaashi’s stare dead on, making him jolt. You offered him a small wave and half a grin, but before he could respond, Bokuto was dragging him back into the game. 

After practice, Akaashi found Bokuto waiting for him by the gates of the school. He flew into an immediate tirade about the bad grade he got on his exam, and how the cafeteria ran out of katsu before he could get there. You showed up in the middle of Bokuro’s story, and the three of you started walking in sync towards the direction of Akaashi’s house, your voice mingling with Bokuto’s as you offered your own tidbits of the day. Akaashi didn’t question how you both knew where he lived, or why he was suddenly flanked by the two chattiest students in Fukurodani. But if Akaashi had known that was how it would all begin, then he might have cherished that moment a little bit more. 

He never really spoke to you during his initial months in the club, which isn’t saying much as he didn’t speak to anyone. You were nice enough – always asked him how he was doing, berating the older ones whenever they’d give him a hard time, giving him reassuring smiles whenever he got scolded for messing up. The perfect example of a manager; your only fault being the nonsensical hearts in your eyes whenever they happened to land on Bokuto. 

You tried to hide it desperately, but there was no hiding the affection in your smiles whenever they were directed toward Bokuto. It was obvious, painfully so, and it bewildered Akaashi that Bokuto still had not noticed. He can at least assume Yukie and Kaori knew, if the worried glances they threw at each other behind your back were of any indication. But if they or anyone else on the team were aware of your feelings, they respected your efforts enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. 

He couldn’t blame you, not in the slightest. Not when Akaashi’s own heart skipped a beat or two during the night of that initial confrontation, and suddenly he himself was enamored by the ace – wanted to give him the best serves, set up the best plays, win him all the games. When Bokuto was on the court, then it was natural law of the universe for Akaashi to use every skill in his arsenal to make sure he shines. Akaashi did not choose for it to be this way, it simply is.

Perhaps that was how it was for you as well, Akaashi thought. Sometimes, the most painful part about love is having no choice, the complete loss of control. Akaashi could see it; the groan after each stolen glance, shaking him off when his hug made your face too hot,  how you would slap your cheeks whenever you caught yourself staring, like a desperate attempt to break yourself out of some wretched spell.

If Akaashi was being honest, he hated seeing you that way. It didn’t take long for you to become someone precious to him, maybe even quicker than it took for Bokuto. Bokuto infuriated Akaashi as easily as he amazed him, each day a toss up on whether he admired him or wanted to strangle him.

But you brought Akaashi comfort, and a sense of understanding he’d never experienced from a friend. Sure, technically it was your job to assist the team, but he could tell that everything you did truly came from your heart. You were kind and selfless, the type of person that would give someone the very shirt off your back but still spit venom at anyone that spoke ill of your friends. 

To have you in his corner, Akaashi couldn’t even begin to explain how much it saved him. He’d been drowning in the middle of an ocean, nearly overpowered by turbulent waves when Bokuto had given him a boat, and you’d given him an oar. As long as he remained with the two of you, then Akaashi thought he could get himself through it all. 

So whenever he would watch you watch Bokuto flex his muscles to the girls cheering in the stands during a game, watch you gripping your clipboard so hard your knuckles turned white, he may feel... a little bit more than annoyed. And whenever Bokuto would then openly flirt with some of those girls after the game, Akaashi could admit that he might even feel a little bit upset.

Because how could he not see the way you look at him, how you smile when he says your name, how you trail after him like a lovesick puppy? At this point, Akaashi’s been friends with the two of you for months, won and lost countless games, gone to training camps, spent more time with each other than with your own families. And the entire time, Akaashi had to work very hard to act like he didn’t notice your feelings. How could Bokuto still be so ignorant? 

It really bothered him a lot more than he cared to admit, and it surprised him. Akaashi never expected to care about you the way he does, but there it was. Maybe it was this comfortable closeness between you that propelled Akaashi to act so boldly, in a way he couldn’t bring himself to in a long time. 

At the end of one of these unsavory games, while Bokuto busied himself with trying to get the number of a cheerleader in the stand, Akaashi scanned the court for a second, stopping only when his eyes landed on you. You were comparing your notes with the coach, and Akaashi waited until you finished speaking and Yamiji-san stalked off to scold someone else before he approached. 

“Keiji! There you are, I wanted to talk to about your receives in the first set, you –”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Akaashi asked, not even registering what you were saying. You might have been irritated at his interruption if you hadn’t been confused by the seemingly random question he just threw at your face.

“What? Tell who what?” 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi crossed his arms and straightened his back, “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?”

You blinked at him once, the only indication that you heard what Akaashi said. He stood facing you, and the seconds seemed to stretch as you did nothing but stare back. The cacophony of sounds that usually bounced along the walls of the gym suddenly sounded muffled and dull. Your lips twitched slightly before they spread into a rehearsed grin, your face slipping easily into a mask of casual indifference.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Keiji,” you answered him softly, shaking your head. 

“Come on, Y/N,” Akaashi groaned, “You know exactly –”

“No, I really don’t,” you said almost pleadingly, your eyes darting around the gym, a mixture of sadness and relief in them when you see Bokuto still showing off to the girls that descended from the bleachers. You look back at Akaashi, brows furrowed as you said, “I don’t know what would make you even think that. Bokuto’s my best friend – that’s it. God, Akaashi, you should really be careful about what you say. If someone heard you, they might have gotten the wrong idea.”

You shot him another hard look – almost a glare, and one that he could read very well, that told him you knew he knew you were lying, that said please, just play along – before you made an excuse of gathering up all the other players for the bus back to school. 

Akaashi’s feet felt stuck to the ground, an achingly familiar helplessness sluicing through him as you walked away. He couldn’t even bring himself to move until Bokuto threw an arm around his shoulder to drag him out, finally done with his flirting and ready to go home. 

You were already seated on the bus when Bokuto and Akaashi finally deigned to board. The seat beside you was occupied by a chattering Yukie, who refused to move despite Bokuto’s complaints of always being the one that sits next to you. You laughed sheepishly and yelled claims of ‘manager bonding’ and doing everything you could to avoid meeting Akaashi’s eye. 

That was the tone of your relationship for the next few weeks. An awkward tension that no one else seemed to notice but you and him. You didn’t treat him any differently – you still greeted him with a smile, walked home together everyday, still messed with him during practice. You still asked him about his day, and told him about yours and Akaashi almost could have convinced himself that nothing was wrong. 

But everything you did started to feel like an act. Disingenuous, like a robot following a set program. You stopped sitting next to Bokuto at lunch, started walking to classes with your other friends instead. Your eyes started flicking to Akaashi whenever you felt you laughed too loudly at Bokuto’s jokes, and you latched yourself to the other players, throwing everyone off kilter. 

You were going out of your way to prove a point that only Akaashi could understand, and even when Bokuto himself had pointed out your strange behavior, you simply brushed him off. There was a sense of insecurity that Akaashi knew he instilled in your actions, and it brought a twinge of regret that he never wanted to feel when it came to you. 

Akaashi had been pouring over how to remedy the situation for days when an olive branch came in the form of Bokuto’s new girlfriend. 

She was a girl from another school, and he met her after one of their games. She came over to their side of the court and congratulated Bokuto for thoroughly defeating her team. She was very pretty and he liked her smile, so Bokuto had asked her out, and she was very quick to say yes. She was waiting for him one day after practicing, standing patiently at the entrance gates with a bag of homemade cookies in her hand. 

Bokuto was so excited as he ran out of the gym to meet her, sparing one minute to ask Akaashi to let you know where he’d gone. Akaashi supposed it was a little comforting to know that Bokuto genuinely cared about you, even if it was encased with his own selfishness. 

Akaashi waited until the rest of the volleyball club had emptied the gym before he made his way into the equipment room. He could hear your sniffling before he even opened the door, his heart slowly crumbling when he walked in on you crouched behind the volleyball cart. 

You sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. Your forehead rested against your knees, and your quiet sobs filled the tiny room. You didn’t bother to look up as Akaashi approached, and fought his own tears as your shoulders shook with every breath. 

He kneeled in front of you quietly, silently debating with himself before he placed a tender hand on your shoulder. You continued to cry, taking uneven, shaky breaths. You didn’t move from your position, and Akaashi briefly wondered if you’d even registered his presence. 

“Did he leave?” You asked suddenly, voice thick and hoarse.

“Yes,” Akaashi answered. 

Slowly, you lifted your head to face him. Your eyes were puffed and swollen, eyes rimmed with red and cheeks stained with tears. Snot dribbled down your nose disgracefully, and there was a sorry attempt on your part to wipe away the evidence of your heartbreak. The sleeves you’d worn your heart on were now soaked with salty tears, and you couldn’t control the tremble of your lips. 

Akaashi didn’t know what else to do other than wrap his arms around you. The position was awkward and he’s pretty sure he’d actually never hugged you before. He felt you stiffen for a second, almost making him pull back. But then you buried your face into the crook of his neck and cried. Akaashi could feel his shirt begin to soak, but he pulled you tighter against him. 

He had no idea how long he held you for, but he stayed there in that smelly old equipment room and he held you until his knees ached and you had no more tears left to give. 

Neither of you spoke once you were done, giving him a sad smile as you pulled away. He didn’t offer one back, but he helped you up to your feet and kept an arm around your shoulder as you both walked out silently. Akaashi knew there was nothing he could say to soothe the pain, and you didn’t look like you wanted to say a single word about it anyway. 

He simply walked home with you as usual, taking the long way around to ensure you both end up walking by your favorite takoyaki stand. He spent the money he was saving in his wallet for a rainy day, and bought you all the food you could eat. He had even gotten your favorite popsicle from the convenience store by your house, and though you still remained silent, he was happy to see you eat everything he gave you. 

By the time Akaashi dropped you off at your front door, the tears were long gone and the moon was high in the sky. You turned to Akaashi, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tried to find the words. Akaashi smiled to himself, and reached out to pat his hand lightly on the top of your head.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, hoping you’d believe him. The lonely smile you gave him tells him you don’t, but you hug each other one last time anyway before saying your goodbyes.

Akaashi remembered the first time you and Bokuto successfully broke through his brick walls. Broke might have been too gentle of a word for it though – smashed through might be better. It was at the start of his second season with Fukurodani, and he was still riding the high of an amazing first year. He was ready for an even better year, ready to try out his new skills at the first practice match Yamiji-san had arranged with a school the team had never played with before. 

Then a familiar voice called his name from the other side of the court. A few familiar faces from a life he was desperate to forget peered at him through the net, chuckling and laughing and asking him where the hell he’s been for the past year? Akaashi froze – completely and pathetically froze. It was only after six missed serves and accidentally smacking Bokuto in the back of the head with a ball did Yamiji-san finally tire of his antics and benched him for the rest of the game. 

Akaashi ran to the locker rooms as soon as practice was over. He didn’t acknowledge his old classmates, didn’t even pretend to be polite or engage in empty pleasantries. Instead, he hid in one of the shower stalls until the rest of the team left and he was absolutely sure there would be no one left to see him leave. 

But when he exited the stall, there you were. Standing next to Bokuto in a locker room he was absolutely sure you weren’t allowed to be in, with your hands on your hip and brows etched in concern. The two of you cornered him, and barricaded him until he fessed up about what the hell just happened on that court. Akaashi was a resilient man, but even he could do nothing against you two. 

So he told you everything – from his ‘guru’ days to the milk dumping incident to the isolation and bullying – everything. He didn’t stop speaking for what felt like hours, but neither you nor Bokuto interrupted him once, allowing him to regurgitate everything he’d been holding in for years. 

When he was done, he wasn’t sure what he expected. Pity, or sympathy or something like that. But, no. Instead, when he looked at the faces of his two best friends, all he saw was anger. Clenched fists, tight jaws, fire burning in eyes – anger. And it made him happy. Whatever happened in his past didn’t matter, because here, he had two people who were willing to get angry on his behalf. 

He thought he couldn’t get any closer to you than he was at that moment. But he was wrong.

Walking away from your doorstep, Akaashi knew the bond between the two of you was solidified after this – having already seen each other at your worst, taking turns being each other’s salvation. You become more than his friend, you were his sister. Sister in pain, sister in darkness, sister in light. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, and you for him. 

Thinking back, the sobbing was probably a bit of an overreaction. A little dramatic considering Bokuto had broken up with that girl not even three weeks later. He was crying and moaning about it for about ten minutes until you promised to take him to his favorite yakiniku spot, and he never thought about that girl again. 

Things would go back to normal for a little while – the three of you acting as reckless teenagers do when they had free reign over the streets of Tokyo. Sitting in cafes sharing one drink for four hours, getting scolded by the coach for staying in the gym too long, laughing and arguing over the most ridiculous reasons that Bokuto turned emo. 

Until Bokuto meets his next girlfriend. Then your heart breaks into a million pieces, and Akaashi tries to hold you together. Then Bokuto breaks up with his girlfriend, and comes running back with crocodile tears in his eyes. You’d catch him again with open arms, and things are alright for a little while until the ugly cycle starts over again. 

Akaashi tried not to let himself wonder why you allowed yourself to accept this – allow Bokuto to put you through it over and over again. He told himself that he didn’t really care, it wasn’t any of his business. Whether you told Bokuto your true feelings or not was your prerogative, and Akaashi wouldn’t do anything but respect your decisions. Even if the decision seemed borderline masochistic. 

Akaashi is forced to simply brush off his irritation at his best friend, because Bokuto was so painfully unaware of what he’d been doing. And if Bokuto was too stupid to see what was right in front of his eyes, then Akaashi was not interested in being the one to enlighten him. 

Ultimately, Akaashi does what he does best – keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. He would listen to every single complaint Bokuto would have about his girlfriends, but he never dared offer his own opinions. He allowed you to drag him to whatever random activity would keep your mind off your own issues, but he never outwardly acknowledged the hurt you always tried to hide. 

And as horrible it is to say, the girls never lasted very long. A month, maybe two at the most. Hardly enough time for Akaashi to memorize any names, as cruel as that sounded. Soon enough, they would complain about his training schedule, or whine about how he hangs out with his friends a bit too much, and that was all it took for Bokuto to cut it off. Bokuto’s priorities always remained the same, and that at least was something Akaashi happily gave him credit for. 

By the time college rolled around, you had even started dating. No one else had ever successfully managed to ensnare your attention for more than five minutes, but Akaashi appreciated seeing you try. Though he admits it was rather amusing to see Bokuto so fervently talk shit about any person you had even a remote interest in, and maybe a little bit more than satisfying to see Bokuto finally be the one on the other side. 

Bokuto, surprisingly, never actually brought any of his girlfriends around. He talked about them, and on occasion, he would invite them to some of his games, but that was it. It was odd, because Bokuto had always struck Akaashi as the type that wanted his partner cheering for him at every opportunity they could get, and would want to hear their voice screaming his name from the stands. But on the rare occasion he actually allowed any of them to come watch him, Bokuto was quick to usher them out of the gym before anyone could even introduce themselves.

It bewildered Akaashi to no end. Was it because he was ashamed?Akaashi’s met at least two girlfriends, and Bokuto’s gone on double dates with Konoha and Washio. Was he hiding his girlfriends from you?

Did he finally get a taste of his own medicine when he saw you kiss that guy in your psych class? Was Bokuto trying to spare you the pain? Akaashi didn’t really want to think of the implications if that statement were true. 

Well, out of sight, out of mind was a set up that worked for him very well.

And more importantly, it worked well enough for you. Worked for Bokuto as well, apparently. He didn’t want to see any of your flings, and you were better off not seeing any of his. A nauseating song and dance that only the two of you knew the steps for. Neither of you were willing to be each other's partner, satisfied to let the opportunity suspend in the air between you, yet never reaching out to take it. 

But hey, if you’re fine with it, then Akaashi could work with this. He could live with this.

That was until Hikari came along. 

Akaashi was honestly a little surprised – Hikari wasn’t typically the type of woman that Bokuto would tangle himself with. That wasn’t to say anything about her looks, or her personality – she was very much Bokuto’s type. But she had already been an essential part of at least one aspect of his life before they started dating, and it was unusual for Bokuto to allow a relationship to transpire with someone so close – the manager of his team, at that. Bokuto always dated outside the proximity of his circle; someone that went to another school, or one that he met at the gym, or sat next to him in one of his classes. 

Never anyone too close. Never anyone that would matter if he lost them. 

But apparently, Hikari was a woman on a mission. Akaashi knew it from the first time he met her, could see it in the wolfish gleam in her eyes as she watched Bokuto from across the room.

He was a little taken aback, but not all that shocked when you came home from that party, practically giving him a heart attack when you burst through the front door and stormed directly to the couch. You didn’t spare him a glance before you face planted onto the cushions, buried your face into the decorative pillows he’d spent two hours picking, and let out the most ungodly scream he’d ever heard. 

You didn’t have to tell him what happened; Akaashi could easily guess. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he still asked slowly, afraid any sudden movements might cause you to lunge. 

“I wish I knew,” your voice was muffled, not bothering to lift your head from the pillow. 

A nagging voice in his head told him he should have stayed at that party, to be your emotional support at the very least if nothing else. He mentally kicked himself, glaring at the laptop he sat in front of, and the blinking document of his unfinished part in the group project he was meant to present to his group mates in the morning. As if the assignment was responsible for his failure. 

You’d be safe if he left, he reasoned with himself. The volleyball team was full of idiots, but they were all good guys. Besides, Bokuto was there and there wasn’t a single chance in hell anything bad would happen to you while he was around. And if Bokuto was too drunk, then Kuroo at least would make sure you all got home safely.  He’d even set himself up on the dining room table so he could see you walk through the front door with his own two eyes. 

Because he had fully expected you to walk through those doors with Bokuto in tow like you’ve done dozens of times, and the fact that you arrived in the dead of night alone was enough to make Akaashi’s blood pressure rise. 

He stood from his chair and walked the few short steps to the fridge. He opened the freezer door, pushing through packets of frozen meat until he found the cream puff flavored ice cream that you had to special order online. He grabs the pint and two spoons before he makes his way to the couch. 

You didn’t move when he pushed your leg to the side, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. You didn’t move when he nudged your calves with his knuckles and asked you to sit up before you suffocated. So he just leaned back, tossing the lid of the ice cream pint onto the coffee table before digging in. 

It’d been two bites of ice cream and one minute later when you slowly maneuver yourself to sit up. Akaashi tried to pretend not to notice you, but it was impossible when you snatched the extra spoon and the entire pint out of his hand in one fluid motion.

“Jesus, watch out for my fingers,” he mumbled, smirking at the glare you shot his way. But you only held the fake contempt until the first spoon of your favorite dessert hit your lips – then you were sighing and leaning your head against Akaashi’s shoulder.

He patted a hand on your knee, reaching over for a scoop of ice cream and chuckling when you blocked his spoon with yours. You tried to hide the ice cream from him, but his arms were long, and he easily snatched the pint back. 

“Hey!” you cried out, and Akaashi quickly conceded before you really took out a finger. 

“How’d you get home?” Akaashi asked, lifting his feet to rest them on the coffee table and leaning his head against yours.

“Kuroo walked me home,” you replied quietly.

“Good.”

Neither of you said another word as you let the quiet of the evening envelope you, not a single sound save for the occasional clashing of spoons when you both reached for another bite. He could feel you slowly ease beside him, the tension in your body melting away with each passing minute.

When the ice cream was finished, the empty pint decorated your table, along with two spoons haphazardly tossed, surrounded by splotches of melted cream that was sure to be a pain to clean. Your breathing was steady, and the time on the clock read ‘Akaashi is going to be exhausted in the morning’. 

He didn’t care, though. You hadn’t moved or spoken in a while now, and Akaashi was convinced you were already asleep. He already prepared himself to spend the night on the couch, your head on his shoulder and his body twisted in a way that was sure to make his back ache the next day. 

He was just seconds away from giving into sleep’s lovely tug when you broke the silence. 

“I saw him with…” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt and clearing your throat, “It was Hikari.”

Akaashi sighed, reaching a hand up to pat your head. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, a pitiful question that he’s repeated to you countless times.

He waited for your usual answer – vehement denial that anything could be possibly wrong, an airy dismissal of his concerns, and a change in conversation so effortless, it almost makes Akaashi forget what he was saying to you in the first place.

This time, though – this time, a weighted silence followed his question, and you looped an arm around his, hugging him firmly.

“Not really,” you admitted softly. 

It was the first time Akaashi had ever heard you confess your heartache. It was always something that was unspoken, and seeing your crumpled face made Akaashi regret ever keeping things that way. He turned fully to wrap himself around you gently, and you gave yourself to his embrace. He’d only heard a sniffle or two, but he could feel the moisture slowly seeping into his t-shirt. It was a feeling that was achingly familiar. 

“Come on, now. Didn’t we say crying over boys was… I think your words were ‘so fucking embarrassing’,” Akaashi mumbled into your hair, smiling when he felt you chuckle against him. His stomach turned at the inadequacy of his words, but he had no idea what else to offer, so he simply offered himself. “I’m here for you, okay? Always.”

You pulled back for a moment to give him a watery smile. Akaashi wiped at your tear stained cheeks.

“Literally, your snot is dripping down to your mouth, and it’s disgusting.” 

Your laughter warmed Akaashi’s cheeks, smacking him on the shoulder before you stood up. You said nothing else as you stalked off into the darkness of your bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights before shutting the door. 

A myriad of emotions swirled through Akaashi as he remained seated on the couch. Was there more that he could have said? Could have done? If he had stayed at the party, would he have been able to stop this from happening? Was it even any of his business to stop it? 

But Akaashi knows himself, and knows he would have said nothing if he saw Bokuto sneak away with Hikari. He would have done nothing except perhaps usher you to the other side of the house, using whatever means to keep you distracted. Even if he was there, all he could have done was spare you the knowledge of it – at least for one night. 

He couldn’t help but feel as if he failed you then – to be a good friend, a brother. Or maybe he’s failed you for years. You’d never see it that way, could never even fathom the notion of his failure, and somehow that thought bothers Akaashi more. 

Akaashi stood up and stalked to his own room. He shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, hatred pumping from his heart through his veins as he drifted off to sleep. 

It was that lingering hate he could still feel churning in his gut when he awoke the next morning that spurred him out of bed and scurrying into the living room. He had every intention of starting the day as a new man – one who didn’t allow his cowardice consume him, didn’t place the comfort of his wellbeing over the needs of those he loved. 

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind, but his momentum halted instantly when he rounded the corner of the hallway, and saw you standing in the genkan. You looked like you had just rolled out of bed yourself, eyes swollen and still wearing the clothes from last night. Your hand rested on the doorknob, the front door wide open.

You turned to him as he approached, and gave him an almost pleading look. Akaashi only had to wonder why you were distressed for two seconds before Bokuto barrelled through the doorway, way too loudly and looking much too bright for the hour. 

Akaashi has seen this dance before. He’s seen it so many times, the sequence of it already playing out in his mind like a familiar melody. Bokuto comes in with a plan that sounded equal parts ridiculous and exhausting, dragging you out without even asking. Akkashi scoffed as you tried and failed to ward off Bokuto with pathetic excuses, but as usual he was having none of it. And both you and Akaashi knew better than to think you could win against Bokuto Kotaro. 

He stood aside while you flurried around the apartment like a blizzard storm, fighting the frown at how Bokuto stood in the foyer with his hands on his hips, a satisfied and smug look on his face. Bokuto turned to Akaashi as if he’d just noticed him for the first time, slapping him on the shoulder before asking, “Akaashi! Why do I feel like I didn’t even see you at all last night?”

It was an effort not to lift a hand and smack Bokuto in the back of the head right then and there. But thankfully, you came rushing out of your bedroom, hastily grabbing a pair of shoes from the genkan. You shot him one last apologetic glance, and you were out the door before he could even bid you goodbye. 

And there he stood – alone in the foyer of his own apartment, feeling like nothing more than a fly on the wall. 

A glance at the clock was the only thing that could have set him in motion, already running ten minutes later than he wanted to start his day. From the tornado named Bokuto that just passed, and the flurry in which Akaashi himself now dashed around, it seemed the apartment was destined to be chaotic. 

He was impatiently tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter, glaring at his coffee machine as if his sheer will would somehow make the brew drip faster, when there was another knock on the door. 

The day was already filled with chaos, but apparently also surprises, because the last person he expected to see on the other side of the threshold was Kuroo Tetsuro. 

The two boys blinked at each other for a second, Kuroo looking just as confused as Akaashi as to why he came to visit in the first place. Kuroo shifted his weight from one foot to the other with his hands tucked in his front pockets, offered Akaashi a nervous smile and a lukewarm attempt at small talk before finally asking if you were still asleep inside. 

Akaashi sighed as he delivered the unfortunate news that not only were you already awake, but were currently being dragged no doubt halfway across the city by none other than Kuroo’s very own roommate. 

“Do you guys not communicate or something,” Akaashi asked blandly, and Kuroo just shrugged.

“He wasn’t there when I got home last night, and he wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. What do you want from me?” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but he still widened the door for Kuroo to slip through, who only smiled at him sheepishly as he entered the apartment. Akaashi asked if he wanted some coffee, and Kuroo graciously accepted, slipping back into the easy, laid-back attitude that he’d always been known to wear. 

Content to leave Kuroo to his own devices, Akaashi darted back into his room to quickly change. When he emerged eight minutes later, fully clothed and his backpack dangling from his shoulder, Kuroo was filling up his thermos with coffee while Akaashi’s already sat waiting for him at the counter. 

Akaashi nodded his head in thanks, Kuroo handing him his cup as the two walked out of the apartment in tandem. He didn't say anything when Kuroo remained in step with him, chattering about his classes as they embarked on the twenty minute walk to campus. Didn’t even consider that it was a weekend, and Kuroo likely didn’t even have to head in this direction so early at all. 

Kuroo stayed with Akaashi as far as the library entrance, the latter almost entering the building before he finally had the frame of mind to wonder, “Wait, so why’d you stop by the apartment today?” Akaashi looked over his shoulder and adjusted his bag a bit higher, “Sorry, I was too distracted by… everything. Did you need something?”

Kuroo chuckled almost guiltily, a crooked smile on his lips. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at Akaashi as if he was debating whether he wanted to tell him the truth. 

“Oh, ha,” Kuroo breathed out, shaking his head slightly, “No, I was just – I mean, y/n looked pretty out of it last night. And I was about to,” Kuroo cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt, “I was heading to that cafe – you know, the one in front of that seven eleven? – and I thought I’d check in to see if she was alive.”

Akaashi’s eyes softened in understanding, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding his head once as he turned to face Kuroo fully and offered him half a smile.

“Thanks for taking her home last night, by the way,” said Akaashi, “She’s lucky you were still at the party.”

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. He takes a strap of his own backpack off his shoulder and flips it to the front, holding it against his chest as he hastily pulls open the zipper.

“Yeah, it was just good timing,” Kuroo replied while he continued to dig through his backpack. He eventually pulls out a few red packets and hands them to Akaashi, “Here. It’s red ginseng. I’m not sure how long you’re planning to be here, but it should help you get through the day.” 

Akaashi examined the red packets in his hand, almost pouting with appreciation to Kuroo. But when he lifted his head, Kuroo was already walking across the courtyard.

“Make sure to give one of those to y/n when you see her!” He yelled over his shoulder, waving at Akaashi one last time before taking off. 

Akaashi did eat the red ginseng, and it did help him get through the seven hours he had spent in the library that day. And he never thought twice about Kuroo’s impromptu visit to his apartment that morning, nor did he think twice about being escorted to the library despite the cafe Kuroo mentioned being on the complete opposite side of campus. 

Because that was just Kuroo – Akaashi had never known him to be any other way. The very definition of all bark no bite, the kind of man that would tease you relentlessly for a stain on your pants, then take you to a store to buy you a new pair. 

Though Kuroo may have been closer to Bokuto, Akaashi had a tremendous amount of respect for the man, and would probably even go so far as to say Kuroo was also one of his closest friends. 

And when Hikari started to prove herself a new fixture, and Bokuto’s absence became more frequent, Akaashi was appreciative of Kuroo’s steady presence – still showing up to the study sessions, and coming over to watch volleyball games on Akaashi’s “much nicer TV”, and grabbing hot ramen and a cold beer after a particularly stressful test. 

He was acting as the Kuroo Tetsuro he’d always been, and it was that semblance of normalcy that Kuroo effortlessly provided, without anyone asking him to, nor any expectations from anyone else – like a lighthouse in the middle of a raging storm, Akaashi knows it was Kuroo that brought them safely to harbor. 

Because Akaashi was waiting for it. Ever since that day you had come home from your outing with Bokuto, dragging your feet through the door, looking like someone had just ripped the world out from beneath your feet, he had been waiting. For the other shoe to drop, for the inevitable descent into madness - at least your version of it. 

He felt prepared for it in a way, felt ready. He was no longer going to pretend to believe your fake smiles and reassurances that you were fine while you locked yourself in your room days at a time, and he wasn’t going to let you throw yourself so hard into your studies that you forget to eat. 

Akaashi felt things would be different this time around. He’d make sure of it. So he waited for the moment your mask would fall, and prepared himself to catch the pieces.

But the moment never came. 

Don’t misunderstand. It’s not as if Akaashi wanted to see you have a mental breakdown for the eighth time in as many years, and he certainly didn’t want to watch you retreat into a shell of yourself as you attempt to reconcile your new reality with your broken fantasies. 

Akaashi can see it in your face sometimes, even though you try your hardest to hide it. The exhaustion beneath your red-rimmed eyes, the very slight downturn of your lips when you thought no one was paying attention, and the tiredness in your slumped shoulders, as if you’ve been carrying a mountain on your shoulders. 

Still, you always made sure to take care of everybody, and you did it for so long. Akaashi didn’t want to admit to being part of the guilty party, but he had just been as willing to take everything you gave, and believed when you said you needed nothing in return. 

It was shameful, and a little bit more than selfish, but a small part of him wanted this chance. To prove himself a worthy friend, that he could take care of the people that mattered to him the most. He almost hated himself for it, for using your suffering as an opening, but he wanted to make up for all the lost opportunities, for the pain his silence might have caused. 

It was his turn to take care of you, and he was ready to do a damn good job.

Except, you were fine. 

He was thankful, if not a little thrown off by the lack of a depressive episode. But thankful, nonetheless. 

More than thankful, though, he was curious. Bokuto was becoming increasingly absent, flaking on plans and ignoring phone calls. Akaashi had never seen him be so serious about a girl, and even he was feeling annoyed about being left in the proverbial dust. Akaashi had imagined you’d be a little more… upset.

He hadn’t noticed any particular changes. Your routine hardly deviated, aside from the occasional dinners or drinks at the bar with him and Kuroo – if you were not in class you were at work, if you weren’t at work you were home, and if you weren’t home you were in class. For a short while, Akaashi felt like he had been living with a ghost, just going through the motions until the sun set and rose again for the new day. 

Sometimes, though, he’d find you on the balcony, sitting on the matching chairs Bokuto’s sisters bought for you when the two of you had first moved in. A mug of coffee or tea would be in your hands, the liquid looking as if it had long gone cold. You wouldn’t acknowledge Akaashi whenever he’d step outside to join you. Say nothing as he sits in the vacant seat beside you, staring only out into the blinking lights of the city. 

When you were this way, Akaashi knew better than to try and bother you to speak. Your mind was eons away, in a world where Akaashi had never been and would never get to see. So he settled himself to sit beside you silently, until you were ready to climb back down from wherever you wandered off to.   

But even those days became few and far in between. 

It was something that confused him, like he’d been following a trail of crumbs laid before him, yet had no idea where it would lead him to. 

That was, until he walked up to Study room 201 for the usual Tuesday evening session. On a normal day he would simply barge into the room without a thought as to who was already in there or if they were in the middle of anything important. But there was a tug in his chest that halted him in front of the narrow, rectangular window cut-out of the sliding door. He was still as he peeked through the glass, and something clicked so loudly in his brain, his eardrums nearly burst. 

Because Study Room 201 was already a mess of textbooks and papers, prohibited snacks and drinks littered the conference table, and Kuroo Tetsuro was sitting next to you. 

You were leaning over as you read something on his laptop screen, and Kuroo slightly leaned back to give you some room. Your eyes were roving over the screen quickly, faster than any normal person should be reading. Then you frowned at something, your finger pointing at certain spots as you explained his mistakes. 

It seemed like you were ripping into Kuroo’s essay or project or whatever it was he was having you read over, your mouth running off into a seemingly endless tangent of all the things he could have done differently. If it was Akaashi in that situation, his head would probably feel so hot from how irritating your voice surely would have sounded in his ears. He might have shoved you away altogether. 

Yet, there was Kuroo Tetsuro, sitting in the seat Akaashi had only ever seen one other person sit in, staring at you as he tried but failed desperately to hide the smile on his face. You turned just as Kuroo’s smile bubbled into a chuckle, and you smacked your pen so hard on his head, Akaashi was afraid he might start bleeding. 

Kuroo’s chuckle turned into complete laughter, loud and obnoxious and infectious, it was only a matter of seconds until you dissolved into a fit of giggles yourself. 

Neither of you paid him much attention when Akaashi finally decided to open the door. In fact, it seemed as if you hadn’t noticed him at all, despite nearly slamming the door in his haste to enter. Akaashi settled into the seat across from you, as he’s always done, and a small part of him wondered if Kuroo might move back into his usual seat beside him now that Akaashi has entered the picture.

He didn’t. He simply smiled at Akaashi and asked him if he’d like a turn to criticize his work. Of course, Akaashi agreed and thoroughly enjoyed tearing down Kuroo’s perfectly good thesis if only because it made both of you laugh. 

Akaashi felt incredibly stupid for not seeing it before, and now that he has, he doesn’t understand how he could have possibly missed it. He stared at the man beside you now, sneaking grapes onto your laptop to get you to eat and wordlessly walking down the hall to fill your water bottle and filling in the seat Akaashi never braved to fill, and the revelations pour over him like a waterfall, loud and rumbling and serene all at once. 

He’s glad it was Kuroo. 

It was a little painful, though. Not a heartbreak, nor a pang of jealousy, but there was an ache that took hold in his body all the same. And he hated that selfish part of him that was hurt – wishing it was him that could have helped you heal.

But it wasn’t him, and he’s glad it was Kuroo. 

Whatever sort of pain or shame or guilt that he was torturing himself with was quickly eased away by the sound of your muffled laughter through the apartment walls during late night phone calls, the color that was beginning to return to your cheeks, and the light that had finally returned in your eyes.

In those following months, you stopped locking yourself in your room, stopped losing yourself in the city lights on that cold, empty balcony. And more than once has Akaashi come home to find you and Kuroo splayed across the living room, either giggling over something playing on the TV screen with beer cans littered across his coffee table, or sitting beside each other in comfortable silence while you both worked or studied.

One way or another, Akaashi would get roped into whatever it was you were doing with Kuroo. And he’ll complain, berate you two for wasting his time on nonsense and tomfoolery, but it was those moments that provided him with a sharp clarity, like he finally has all the pieces he needed for this puzzle. 

Akaashi may have been just a man on the outside looking in, but the picture that Kuroo had built with you – for you – was more beautiful and warm than Akaashi had ever thought to imagine. And whether you realized it or not, you now went about your days with a permanent smile on your lips and a lightness in the air about you that Akaashi had not felt in years. 

It had filled him with something he didn’t even know he had been missing, as if his lungs were finally taking their first gulp of air after so long underwater. The brightness you started to exude felt as warm and refreshing as summer’s first rays of sun, and Akaashi finally lets himself relax. 

Because Kuroo – that son of a bitch, Akaashi could kiss him in the mouth – he had taken the pieces of you that were scattered across the dirty floor, and he’s put together every single shard until you were nearly whole again. He had breathed an entirely new life into you, a mosaic of all the things you thought you couldn’t handle, brought back to make you stronger. You were almost unrecognizable. 

But people don’t change so easily, and some habits are ingrained into your bones. Akaashi could already see the beginnings of it. The self-doubt, the fear, overthinking your every word and action. Often, Akaashi felt as if he could hear your thoughts from across the room, his throat constricting as they wrapped around him like a noose. 

He didn’t want things to be the same, he told himself. Things were going to be different this time. He’d said it like a mantra over and over again, and now was the time for him to put his money where his mouth was. 

And one day, Akaashi was in the kitchen making his usual cup of coffee, you came bouncing – no, literally, you were bouncing – out of your room with just about the goofiest smile he’d ever seen on your face, and it was all the push he needed to step over the line.

He allowed himself that bit of courage, something he’d spent years shoving to the back of his mind, smothered by his own hands.

“Excited for your date?”

“It’s not a date!”

“Would it be so bad if it was?I mean look at you, you’re smiling like an idiot.” 

For one, glorious, precious second, Akaashi thought that things would finally work out. The gears started spinning your head, and even though you glared at him, Akaashi could already see a sparkle in your eye, and a hint of smile you tried to hide.

“You know what, Keiji, I’m getting sick of you –”

And it only took three knocks for everything to come toppling down. 

The not-so-serendipitous entrance of Bokuto Koutaro was usually accepted with open arms, and an exasperated sigh that wasn’t actually exasperated but a little excited to see what he’s got planned for the day.

But that day, the sight of his streaked hair made Akaashi’s stomach drop to the floor, and hearing the way he spoke to you only made Akaashi see red. 

He almost didn’t register the slam of his front door, the blood roaring in his ears too loudly for him to hear your heated exchange. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel sorry for his best friend, pouting like a child whose favorite toy was just ripped from his hand. 

Akaashi knew, deep down somewhere in a dusty corner of his heart, that Bokuto didn’t mean any harm. He might have even thought he came here with the best of intentions, that maybe he was trying to be a good friend. And maybe that’s what irritates Akaashi even more, the complete lack of self-awareness, and the obliviousness to those around him – perfectly content with staying inside his own Bokuto-powered bubble. 

Irritated, yes. Still, Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to be truly vexed. Not when Bokuto looked just as confused and distraught. Akaashi didn't know what he was thinking, or perhaps he wasn’t even thinking at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. But the worst part of it was, he didn’t want to. Because you were finally letting yourself be happy, and he wasn’t going to let Bokuto ruin it. 

“She’s finally moving on. You shouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

“Just leave it alone, Bokuto-san. Before anyone gets hurt.”

By the time he was finished, the flames of anger Akaashi felt just moments prior had completely died, and he was left with nothing but a taste of smoke and ash on his tongue. He spoke the words a lot more calmly than he felt, a familiar sense of sympathy creeping over his heart yet again.

Because the look on Bokuto’s face was one Akaashi had seen before, but never on him. A mix of shock and confusion, topped off with a hint of anguish and regret. It looked sad enough on you, but on Bokuto, it was heartbreaking.

So he truly didn’t know. Akaashi’s not sure if it made him feel better or worse. He just knew he was finished with this game, and although he couldn’t really understand the gravity of what he’d just done, he didn’t regret it. When Bokuto silently nodded and left his apartment, he felt only relief.

There was an eerie calm that settled in the wake of Bokuto’s departure. You came back from your date-not-date with Kuroo in infinitely better spirits than when you left, back to skipping around the apartment while humming a tune only you could hear, and the morning’s debacle was already long forgotten. 

Kuroo, unsurprisingly, became quite determined to attach himself to your hip, with a new sense of comfort and a different sort of tension that Akaashi didn’t feel like addressing. It seemed the encounter with Bokuto had added fuel to more than one fire, and if Kuroo was trying to hide his feelings before, he wasn’t bothering to do so now. Akaashi’s caught the way Kuroo looks at you more than once, and it’s even given him butterflies more than he cared to admit. 

Bokuto eventually apologized, and he’d even started bringing Hikari around more. She really was a sweet girl, clearly putting in the effort to get to know Bokuto’s friends. She even desperately tried to ignore Bokuto’s longing looks at a certain blossoming couple, and Akaashi wished he had the capacity to care just a little bit more about the poor girl Bokuto dragged into the tangled web of his heart. 

Alas, he was too busy preparing for the storm.

Akaashi had always been an overthinker. It’s in his nature, something inherent in him that he could never shake no matter how hard he tried. Or it could be the result of his younger days hiding behind his fear, maybe it was something he never actually got over. Akaashi doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows much of anything these days. 

His useless mind was only searching for ways he could have prevented this. If he pushed you about your feelings earlier, would you have ended up with Bokuto instead of Kuroo? Would it have been the two of you laughing and dancing, pouring honey in each others’ ear in a crowded room like no one was watching? 

If not for Akaashi, would Bokuto have ever even realized you were in love with him? Were it not for him, would it have eaten away at Bokuto’s very heart until he attacked his own best friend? Akaashi should have kept his mouth shut. If he did, then maybe you might have actually allowed yourself to enjoy being with Kuroo, to let him romance you in the way he’s been aching to do, to let yourself fall in the way you’ve been afraid to for so long. 

And if he did, then maybe he wouldn’t have found Bokuto’s white-knuckled fists gripping Kuroo’s shirt in the middle of a stunned crowd, drenched in sticky alcohol and hair in disarray while you were crying in the corner. Hikari wouldn’t have been sobbing in the back of a dirty taxi, fighting the bile rising in her throat from the betrayal of the one meant to love her most.

He wouldn’t have had to drag you home, too stunned into silence to fight him. He was thankful for that, because he knows that if you had seen the look on Kuroo’s face as everyone he loved left him soaked, eyes stinging, and alone… Akaashi would have deserved that punch you’d throw in his face. 

There were a plethora of things he wished he said, things he could have done. They played through his mind like an endless reel of maybes and what ifs and would haves over and over again as if determined to drive him insane.

He’s not sure what to do now. He’s not sure if he should even do anything. He was tired, he hadn't eaten in at least twenty seven hours, and when he looked in the mirror that morning, he cringed at the deep purple color that encircled his eyes. 

The coffee maker beeped loudly, and Akaashi mindlessly grabbed his mug from the cabinet. His eyes were unfocused, relying on his muscle memory to grab the oat milk creamer from the fridge and mixing in his preferred amount of sugar. 

The morning was calm, a stark contrast from the evening before, and Akaashi’s been awake for a lot longer than he’d care to admit. He stirred his spoon in circles, watching the whorls of milk blend into inky water. This was his fourth cup. Four times he’s brewed a fresh pot, hoping to have one ready for you once you step out of your room. Four times the coffee had turned cold, and he watched it swirl against the steel of his sink as he poured it down the drain. Four times he’s walked to the counter to brew a fresh pot again. 

He winced when he took a sip, coffee burning his tongue, like one last insult to his injuries. By now, he’s already used up more than half the bag of coffee beans you brought home from work just the other day. He hated being wasteful. He hated drinking more than one cup before he could even eat his breakfast. He hated waiting for you alone with nothing but the sugar granules littering his dining table to keep him company. 

He hated the silence in his apartment. He hated the 53 missed calls on his phone from Kuroo and Bokuto. He hated that he was the one who sent Bokuto into a downward spiral. He hated every single face that did nothing but gawked with their phones out while two men – who had never so much as raised their voices at each other  – looked like they were two seconds away from ripping each other's throat out.  

He hated everything.

But he would still do it all over again. Let the fire he had unknowingly started burn their slate clean. If it means peace, if it means freedom from the cage they built around themselves… then he’d do it all over again, for his friends. 

And once it grows cold, Akaashi will brew another pitcher of coffee. He will make himself another cup. 

And he will sit in this chair, and he will wait until he sees you walking out that door. 

The sun was nearing its peak when you finally woke up. 

You cursed yourself for forgetting to draw all your curtains last night, and you squinted against the harsh rays of sun now beating down on your face.

It was an effort to open your eyes. There was crust lining your waterline, stinging your lashes when you tried to flutter them open. Your lids still felt heavy and swollen, and you barely won the battle of keeping them open. 

Your head was throbbing, so loudly that it was the only thing you could hear. You dig into your temples with the heel of your palm, groaning as you positioned yourself to sit up. You run your hands along the rumpled sheets until your fingers hit something hard. You dig through a little more, closing your eyes and bracing yourself as you grab your phone. 

Dead. Only a black screen stared back, no matter how many times you pressed the buttons. You tossed the phone back on the mattress just as you flopped yourself back down, the both of you landing on the sheets like a useless brick.

You should probably charge the damn thing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb the morning’s peace just yet. You doubt you’d find another moment of it the second you get out of this bed. 

Instead, you bury your fingers into your own hair, twisting your body around until your face is buried in your pillow, and you fight the urge to scream into it, too worried that the extra strain might actually cause you to hurl your guts out.  

Not yet. 

You burrowed even deeper into your sheets, wrapping the blankets around yourself until you were nothing more than a cocoon of self-preservation. Because you weren’t ready to face it. The betrayal you were unknowingly the center of, the years of friendship that was splintered in a matter of seconds, the broken hearts of the people you cherished the most. You weren’t ready to face any of it. Not yet.

As if the cowardly admission was some sort of key, memories began to flood through wide open gates in your head, soaking you all over again with sticky alcohol and salty tears. You tried to push it back, tried to cover yourself, like holding an umbrella in a hurricane. But the waves of memory overpowered you, knocking you off your feet each time you remembered Kuroo’s wide-eyed, vacant look as he watched Akaashi haul you away. 

Kuroo. 

Tetsuro.

Even a mere whisper of his name still sends shocks through your nerves, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The thought of him consumed you so easily, so wholly, like he was a blanket of calm that smothered all your raging thoughts until there was only him. Everything about him made you so dizzy, light headed and out of breath.

Every time you hear his voice, so rich and creamy, it coats all over you like something luxurious on your skin. Forcing yourself to pretend that you’re not breathing in his scent whenever he’s near, pretend that cedar and smoke and warm amber don’t haunt your dreams – it was a tremendous effort on your part to keep yourself sane, to keep yourself from free-falling into the rabbit hole that was Kuroo Tetsuro. 

But last night… You could have dreamt all you wanted about what it would be like to have him look at you with shaky breaths and dilated pupils and ask if he could kiss you, and it still wouldn’t have amounted to anything close to actually having him in front of you. It made you want to laugh almost as much as it made you want to cry, because of course Kuroo Tetsuro could make reality surpass fantasy. 

You wished the memories could have stopped there, that your night ended with the only kiss that has ever made you feel like you were in the clouds.

But fate was almost as cruel as life. 

It was difficult to explain how it felt, for everything to finally click into place while also spiraling into confusion. 

You understood with painful clarity why Hikari hated you, why she acted like you were a pebble in her shoe, and looked at you as if your very existence was an eyesore. You remembered that fight with Bokuto, and the tension that never went away even after the two of you reconciled – all the times Bokuto’s mood would plummet at the mere mention Kuroo, each time you ignored the frustrated glances he threw towards the both of you, hoping you were simply imagining things.

Because what reason could Bokuto possibly have to act that way? You thought about it over and over, and could never come up with an adequate conclusion. 

Now, your willful ignorance has finally come to pay its retribution, a sort of cosmic joke that you were sure some powers above found absolutely hilarious – because Bokuto Kotaro was in love with you. In love. With you. Has been, apparently, for … you didn’t even want to think of how long, couldn’t comprehend the implication of his confession.

A confession that you vividly remember praying for, words that your heart has longed for and ached to hear. Cried for in the silent void of your bedroom, hoped for in your fractured soul, because for so long, you waited, even just for a sliver for a chance for Bokuto to actually see you as more than a friend, more than just the overbearing manager who followed him to college. 

It almost kills you to know that he was waiting for the same thing. 

For a moment, you envisioned it. The life you could have had with Bokuto – walking around campus tucked beneath his arm, registering for classes that fit each other’s schedule, wearing his jersey when you watch his games. Maybe you would have joined the team as a manager, and there wouldn’t have been a second you wouldn’t spend together. Bokuto probably wouldn’t have even waited for the first year to end before convincing you to move in with him. The apartment would have been small, but he wouldn’t ever miss a single dinner together. 

Every morning, you’d wake up to an empty bedroom, but by the time you prepared two steaming mugs of coffee, Bokuto would have already returned from his morning run. He’d kiss you and embrace you, and you’d get ready for the day together, leave your home together, and come home together.

Grief is peppered through every thought like weeds, mourning for the time lost and each memory that never happened. It would have been a beautiful life together. It would have been filled with love, laughter, and happiness so bright, just imagining it made your eyes burn. 

The smell of fresh coffee permeated through the musty, stale air of your bedroom. You could almost see the trail of the scent wafting through the open seams of your door, snaking through the smog until it wrapped around you like a warm embrace. It beckoned you like a familiar friend, so enticing that it actually spurred you to sit back up. 

Suddenly, you felt your stomach grumble and the dryness in your mouth felt like ash, as if the smell of arabica beans was that first fallen domino that had all your issues tumbling into each other. You ignored the rush of nausea churning in your stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol you drank last night, and swung your legs over the side of your bed, feet absently shuffling against the wooden floor until they found your slippers. 

You stifled a groan as you stood, and dragged your feet across the room slowly. You snatched the thin robe you kept hung over your computer chair, and wrapped it tightly around your body, taking a deep breath as you closed your fingers around the door knob and twisted it open. 

You nearly choked on the wave of aroma that rushed at you so fast, you might have thought you were stepping into an actual roastery instead of your own living room. You half expected to see Akaashi standing over a heated pan, vigorously stirring beans until they turned brown – or however the hell one would roast coffee, you seriously had no idea. 

Instead, you found him standing in front of the coffee maker you bought for him two Christmases ago, hands on his hips and foot tapping on the floor. The machine was bubbling and hissing as the coffee dripped slowly into the pot, and the counter was an abhorrent mess that you’ve quite literally never seen Akaashi make in the entire time you’ve lived with him. 

“Did you open up some sort of… cafe in our apartment that I wasn’t aware of,” You tried to keep your voice light and playful, but the words scratched at your throat, and they came out sounding tired and rough.

Akaashi could have broken his neck with the speed he turned around, shooting an arm out to catch himself on the counter when his momentum threatened to hurtle his body too far. He regarded you with wide, tired eyes, coffee staining his shirt in four different places, and you had a strange feeling that if you reached up and tried to run your fingers through his hair, you would find a bird’s egg nestled somewhere deep within. He looked – and you were putting this nicely – like absolute shit. 

You tried to smile, and his gaze immediately softened, lips coming together into a tight line. And you regretted any previous thoughts you might have had about the malnourished vibe he was putting down., because the pathetic way he looked at you definitely said that you looked about a million times worse. 

“I thought I’d give it a try,” he said softly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter, “It can’t be that hard, can it? Especially with an experienced barista in the vicinity.”

You clicked your tongue, and gave Akaashi a mocking glare, “You wouldn’t be able to afford my skills and services.”

Akaashi brought a finger up to his lip in faux-thought, and you felt your heart flutter when he opened his arms wide, “I can pay with warm, comforting, and gentle embraces?”

You shook your head, and your slippers slapped against the wooden floor as you hurriedly made your way across the room and crashed into Akaashi’s arms.

“Can’t you be normal and just call it a hug?” Your voice was muffled against his chest, “Who the hell calls it an embrace these days?”

He pulled you against him even tighter, “Literary geniuses, that’s who.”

A chuckle softly escaped from your lips and vibrated against Akaashi’s chest, and it felt like a tether had been snapped. Even more giggles tumbled out, and the fact that Akaashi was not laughing somehow made it even more funnier – made what funnier, you actually had no idea, though at this point you could hear how unhinged your laughter actually sounded. But you couldn’t hold it back, and you laughed until your belly ached, and tears formed on the corners of your eyes. 

You laughed until the laughter felt like acid burning up your throat, and the tightness of it made it difficult to breathe. The tears that pooled in your eyes now flowed freely down your cheeks, and there was no stopping it then, not when you choked out a sob, clutched at the fabric of Akaashi’s shirt and cried. While Akaashi rested one hand on the back of your head, and stroked small circles around your back with the other, you wept and you cried. Cried and cried and cried. 

Whatever restraint you’d been keeping against your heart was undone by the strength of Akaashi’s arms around you, and knowing that he was there to hold you together… it was enough to have you falling apart.

You don’t know how long the two of you stood in that kitchen for. It could have been a few minutes. It could have been a few hours. Akaashi didn’t falter, didn’t move a single inch. Through each shuddering sob, every heaving gasp for air, Akaashi had stayed. He waited until the shaking subsided, and your breathing evened out, and there was not a single tear left to cry. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you peeled yourself away from his embrace, wiping your entire face with the sleeve of your robe. You backed another step, and Akaashi met your swollen, red eyes with his own sunken, tired ones. He tried to smile at you, and tried extremely hard to seem like he wasn’t uncomfortable in his soaked shirt.

“Go change out of that thing,” you said by way of apology, cringing at the mess you’d left behind, “Please.”

For a second, you thought Akaashi might have argued with you. But then his eyes switched from you to the hallway then back again, before he nodded and darted to the direction of his bedroom. You breathed out a laugh and walked to the counter, grabbing a towel from beside the sink and wiping away the coffee grounds that dirtied your usually-immaculate kitchen. 

You were sweeping up the stray flecks that littered the floor when Akaashi came barrelling back into the kitchen. Before he said a single word, he snatched the broom violently from your hand.

“Hey, I was –”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, not when Akaashi practically shoves you into a seat at the dining table. 

“Stay,” he pointed a finger at you, and you quickly swallowed back the snarky comment you were prepared to throw out. Your eyes just silently followed Akaashi as he fussed around the kitchen, mopping the rest of the floor and shaking his head at you when he realized you’d already cleaned the counters. 

He grabbed your favorite mug – drying on the dish rack like it had just been washed after use – then turned to make you a cup of coffee. But when he touched the top of his fingers to the glass body of the pitcher, he frowned. Deeply. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“The coffee got cold again,” he grumbled, making you shoot out of your seat and scramble towards him when he yanked the decanter off the hot plate and headed to the sink.

“Stop!” you practically screeched, just barely making it in time to grip his wrist before he could fully pour the contents down the drain. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Akaashi just stared. “It’s cold now.”

“So?!” you looked at him like the roles have now been completely reversed, “We can just microwave it or something. You don’t need to throw the whole thing out.” You tried to pry the pitcher out of Akaashi’s hand, but he clutched on tightly.

“I wanted you to have fresh coffee,” he said simply, and you gaped. You looked at him for a second longer before your eyes flick back to the counter that you just cleaned up, and realization washed over you like a gentle shower. 

“Did you –” you paused for a second, unsure of how you were going to deal with this situation, “Have you been making a new pot of coffee each time it went cold?” 

Akaashi opened his mouth as if to speak, but quickly clamped his lips down to press them into a thin line. You managed to grab the pitcher from Akaashi with no resistance, and rushed to place it back into its proper place on the machine. In your peripherals, you could see a crinkled bag, folded in half and tucked in a corner behind the coffee maker. 

“Is that…” you mumbled to yourself before quickly snatching the nearly empty bag from its hiding place, “Keiji!”

He winced slightly when you presented him with the evidence, coffee beans flying astray when you shake the bag in Akaashi’s face.

“I just got this bag, Keiji!” you groaned, lamenting the gallons of your favorite roast undoubtedly swirling through the drainpipes of Tokyo by now. You peeked into the bag, frowning when you saw that only about a fourth of the bag had been saved, “Now I have to wait until next month for the cafe to give me a free one.”

“I wanted you to have –”

“Fresh coffee. I got it,”  you sighed, placing two hands on each of Akaashi’s shoulders. Again, he showed no resistance when  you pushed him backwards and sat him on your empty chair. He opened his mouth to argue when you grabbed two mugs and poured in the cold coffee, but the glare you shot him was enough to make him shut it. You ignored his searing gaze as it trailed after your every movement, ignored it burning holes in your back while you microwaved the two mugs of coffee, ignored the burn in your throat at the pathetic way he watched you place one mug in front of him, and held the other as you took the empty seat across from him.

You gestured silently to the mug of coffee.

“Drink,” you ordered, and the word made Akaashi instantly grab the handle, “There’s only room for one mental breakdown in this apartment at a time. And I call dibs for today, okay?”

Akaashi couldn’t stop the laughter that broke free, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exasperated way he shook his head. When the two of you lifted your mugs, your eyes met for just a moment, and the smile you shared with your best friend might have been enough to heal your heart. 

Then, you took a sip of the coffee, and the moment the dark liquid hit your tongue, you had to fight the cringe, and pretend that the way he burnt this batch didn’t break your heart all over again.

“That’s…” you begin, searching for the words. You coughed instead of finishing your sentence.

Akaashi simply sighed. He reached a hand in his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him slowly slide his fingers up and down the screen. 

He gives you a pointed look. “What’s it look like? I’m getting breakfast delivered.”

The sun looked just about ready to set by the time you and Akaashi decided to settle down. Empty take out boxes were piled in the proper compartments of the trash bin, and neither of you have bothered to clean up the crumbs all over the table. 

Breakfast had passed by silently, the both of you just content to be in each other’s presence, still sniffling as you shoved entire forkfuls of souffle pancakes from your favorite bakery. You shrieked with delight when you recognized the logo on the bag Akaashi retrieved from the delivery man. You didn’t even scold him for the insane delivery fee he probably had to pay for them to bring it all the way here. 

You just crushed him in a tight hug and accepted his kindness with a kiss on the cheek. He sighed in the way you imagined an older brother would about his annoying little sister, despite you being an entire year older. It made you chuckle, especially when he let you break his very strict “no eating in the living room” rule. 

If Akaashi had any questions or concerns about the events that transpired last night, he mercifully kept them all to himself. After breakfast, he dug out the kotatsu blanket from the storage closet, and – after screeching to Akaashi that he was banned from making any beverages for at least a month – you brewed some of his favorite green tea.

You laid under that kotatsu with Akaashi for hours, sipping on tea that had long turned lukewarm, talking about things that were of neither importance or relevance. You wasted away the entire day, it seemed, if the setting sun and ombre skies out the windows were of any indication. 

Akaashi sat across from you, his back leaning against the foot of the couch. The kotatsu blanket reached up to his waist, and his head lolled lazily to the side as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. You’d long thrown propriety out the window, though it never is in the room when you’re with Akaashi. You managed to snuggle yourself completely under the kotatsu table, the blanket skirt covering your body while using your seat cushion as a pillow. 

Akaashi had gone through tremendous effort to make this day feel as casual as last week’s Sunday morning. You had a niggling feeling that if you let him, then Akaashi would be very content in keeping you inside this bubble of safety and comfort that he’s curated specifically for you. He’d keep the problems that were waiting past these four walls at bay for as long as he possibly could. This, you knew without a shred of doubt. 

It was a kindness that you held closely to your heart. One that you knew was the type of kindness that didn’t boast, but wrapped itself around you gently and held you against its chest. The longer you looked at Akaashi, rubbing his finger against his nose and eyes glued to the screen, the more your heart swelled with that affection he generously poured into your cup. 

And you knew that because he’s loved you enough to create this bubble, you had to love him enough to pop yourself both out of it. 

“Keiji,” your voice felt hoarse from the silence, the words scratching at your throat, “Was I really that blind?”

Akaashi stilled almost imperceptibly, if you hadn’t known him for years, you probably would have missed it. He clicks the button on the side of his phone, and he gently places the black device on the table. He shuffles to move his seat cushion from beneath him and tosses it to the side, settling himself beneath the blanket before laying down to face you. 

“You weren’t blind, y/n.”

He said it so gently, probably worried that if he spoke any louder, then you would shatter. It softens your heart as much as it sends a spike of irritation through you.

“Dumb, then? Oblivious? Stupid? Naive? Either way you spin it, it still comes down to my faults, my…” your voice cracks, the traitorous thing, and you stopped to clear your throat, “What word would you use, then, Keiji?”

“Young. Afraid. Hurt,” He says with a lot more force and clarity than you expected, each word striking directly into your heart, “A whole lot of other words before stupid, actually. An entire dictionary’s worth.”

You wanted to wipe that look off his face, really. Eyes misting his usual blue to a foggy gray, and failing to stop his wretched mouth from quivering. How many more people in your life were you going to hurt? You felt pathetic.

You stay silent for a moment before starting, “Bokuto… he must have also been in a lot of pain,” you sighed, turning to supine and training your eyes to the popcorned ceiling, “Everything’s so… fucked up. And it’s all because of me and my stupid ignorance and –”

“Please, stop saying that,” Akaashi groaned loudly, balling a fist into his own hair. 

Exasperation floods through you like a tidal wave, it crashes through you viciously and your body shoots itself up into a sitting position before you could even think. You couldn’t hold back the glare at Akaashi before asking him with a bite, “Well, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi answers with a growl, maneuvering himself up to face you, his fists landing helplessly on the table, “but please, stop saying stuff like that, not when–” Akaashi sighed, bring two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I knew about everything for… a long time.”

You shrugged carelessly as you replied, “Well, yeah. I know I never actually told you, but I thought you figured it out after… the equipment room incident.”

Akaashi pursed his lips together. “Oh, I did. But I wasn’t talking about just you.”

Your eyebrows lifted, opting to stay silent. Akaashi nibbled at his bottom lip in hesitancy, allowing him the time to process through whatever he clearly wanted to say. You brace yourself when you see him taking a slow, deep breath.

“With you, it was… so fucking obvious. And it wasn’t just because you followed him around, or laughed obnoxiously loud at his dumb jokes. If anybody looked at you for longer than five seconds, they’d see it on your face – clear as day. You looked at him like… I don’t know. Like he made all the flowers bloom, or painted the sunset with your favorite colors or something poetic like that.”

“That sounded pretty poetic to me,” you laugh, though it sounded hollow and despondent in its attempt to hide the gut punch Akaashi’s words delivered. Akaashi smiled ruefully, but he continued. 

“My point is – you never had to tell me. I knew it. You knew it. We all knew it. Your feelings were never the big secret you thought it was. Bokuto might have been the only person in this world that never picked up on it. And actually, there was a point in time when I genuinely thought he was ignoring them on purpose. Fuck, maybe he did. I never really figured it out. I don’t really think he ever did either. Because with Bokuto…”

Akaashi took the deep breath you’ve been holding the entire time he spoke, and he looked directly at you this time as he spoke.

“I knew he loved you. He loved you, maybe a bit more than he knew what to do with. God, if you only saw how he’d glare at any guy that tried to even look at you. They were ridiculous – hilariously vicious. He always did it behind your back, but it was about as subtle as a flashing neon sign. I don’t know how you never caught him.You followed him around, sure, but he made sure he kept you by his side, never letting you stray too far from him. Because if you weren’t next to him, then he was… lost. It’s stupid but– yeah, I think I knew he loved you, even before he knew it himself. And I could have told him. Should have told him. It would have been easy, quick – ‘Bokuto, Y/N is in love with you’. And he would have gone running. Well, nevermind. It might have taken him a couple days, but when it hit him… I don’t think anything in the world could have stopped him.”

Silver streaks on Akaashi’s face matched the warm tears that trickled down your own, and you tried to catch his gaze but at this point, he stared fixedly down at his lap. 

“Keiji…” you called out to him, somehow wrangling his name through the tightness of your throat, because you need him to look at you. Needed him to see that you didn’t blame him, would never even think to. But he doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he barrels on. 

“But I didn’t. Obviously. I kept my mouth shut, and just watched you two bumble around like idiots. It was, believe it or not, torturous for me. For the longest time, I kept my nose out of your business, because I know what it’s like to… Ahh,” He bows his head, and covers his eyes with the palm of his hand. It took a moment before he wiped his hand away and continued, “I did try once, though. With you. And I felt so completely iced out afterwards, I remembered exactly why I kept out of it for so long.”

He must have sensed the rebuttal at the tip of your tongue, but he interrupts you before you could even start.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you this because… I was afraid too. I was scared that if I had kept pushing, then you would have pulled away from me completely. I was scared that Bokuto would think I was overstepping my boundaries. I was scared that it would work out, and the two of you would phase me out of your lives. I was scared it wouldn’t work out, and everything would be…”

His voice trailed off, so you softly finished for him, “Fucked up?”

He finally, finally looked at you then. You reached across the table and held his hand in yours. You felt him stiffen for a second before turning his hand and curling his own fingers around yours. A giggle of relief spills from your lips, and it elicits a chuckle from Akaashi, and the sound blooms within you.

“You guys are my best friends,” Akaashi said, his grip on you tightening just a fraction, “And I saw what you were putting each other through. I was watching it all happen in front of my own eyes. I should have done something more, right? If I had tried harder with you, if I just talked to Bokuto, if I bothered even just a little bit more to get over my shit and helped my friends…  Then this never would have happened. And Kuroo… God, Kuroo. He didn’t need me to do a damn thing, he just loved you but still I managed to fuck things up for him and –”

“Shut up!”

Akaashi started a little at your sudden outburst, but it achieved the desired effect. He blinked at you once, then twice. You almost felt a twinge of guilt at your lack of patience, considering all that Akaashi was beginning to unpack in front of you. But weren’t you the one that called dibs on the mental breakdown today? If he thought you were just going to sit there and listen to his blasphemy, then he’s sorely mistaken.

“Don’t you even try to blame any of it on yourself, Keiji,” you spat out, irritated, “How could you even say something so convoluted? How could you even think such a –”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Akaashi interrupts you fervently, as if desperate to get you to listen to him, “I let my fears hold me back, instead of facing it for the people that mattered to me. I’m just a coward.”

“No, Keiji. You’re not a coward. You…” You let out a heavy breath, all the sharpness in your tone now softening at Akaashi’s deep set frown, “Do you even have any idea how much you saved me? Even though things were… unspoken between us, I knew you understood me. Without me ever having to say a single word, you understood me. And you never judged me or tried to tell me I was wrong. You just… you just held my hand. No matter what happened, good or bad, if I looked to my side, I knew I would see you there. Do you think you’re the only person that notices the little things? I felt your support, and I felt your love. Even when you didn’t say it out loud.”

“But–”

“No more buts, I really don’t want to hear it. You weren’t the one responsible for us,” your eyes were hard, providing no room for arguments, “You were just a kid. What could you have even done? You saw how stubborn I was being! Do you really think I would have listened? You were young, and afraid, and didn’t know any –”

Too late. The words flew out of your mouth quickly, you didn’t even think twice about it. Your guard was down, and you knew that was the most dangerous thing around Akaashi Keiji. Because too slowly did you realize the trap he laid out in front of you. And as the words slipped past your lips, you realized you were already too late. Akaashi was already looking at you with that smug grin.

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not,” He chuckled at you as if you weren’t staring daggers at his soul right now, “But if you can afford me that much grace, then I think you owe the same to yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. You won’t meet a single person that doesn’t have any regrets. But you can’t let those feelings define you. Only improve you. I know you’re feeling… a lot of shit right now that I probably can’t even begin to process. But it’s what you do with those feelings that matter.” He propped an elbow on the table, and rested his chin in the palm of his halls. “Are you gonna let it keep you down?”

You felt a little stunned, and though Akaashi’s words were simple, you could feel them find their mark. Hot tears pricked at the corner of your eyes yet again, and you didn’t look away from Akaashi as you let them fall. Still, you crossed your arms indignantly and pouted. “I can’t help but feel like I fell for some dirty trick.”

Akaashi laughed this time, waving his hand to beckon you closer to him. You begrudgingly moved from your spot, ignoring the ache in all your joints from your lack of movement, and crawled to sit beside Akaashi. He lifted the kotatsu skirt for you to settle under before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Dirty trick or not, as long as it gets the point across.”

“I understand, Keiji. I do, but still,” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “It’s difficult not to feel foolish.”

“I know,” Akaashi said as he laid his cheek against your crown, “I know. Fools in love, right?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you chose not to say anything. The lull in conversation allowed you the time to process his words, closing your eyes to feel everything you’d been avoiding the entire day. With a deep inhale, and a slow exhale, you silently search for the strength to let it all go. 

A buzz on the table catches your attention. Akaashi makes a point to ignore the notification, even more so when it buzzes again. 

The sight of his phone only served to remind you of your own, sitting dead and silent somewhere in the corner of your room for the entire day, of the calls that went straight to voicemail, of the messages that are unanswered – of the two men on the other side of line, waiting to see which way their world is about turn. 

“Have you heard from…” 

Akaashi lets out a snort through his nose. “Oh, yes, I have. I’m probably dead for ignoring all the calls and texts. But I needed to make sure you were alright before I answered anything.”

You chuckle, moving out of Akaashi’s one-armed embrace and sitting up to face him fully. “I love you, Keiji. I’d pick you if you were in love with me too, you know. What do you say? Wanna throw a towel in the ring?”

Akaashi laughed, loud and brash and genuine, and for the first time that day, you actually believed that everything will be alright. “I love you too, y/n. But I’d rather die.”

You nudged him hard with your elbow before standing up, leaving Akaashi to rub the sore spot while you stretched out your sore limbs. “I guess it’s time to stop hiding now, right?”

“Yeah…” Akaashi trails off, and you wait for him to ask the question you could see had been brewing in his mind for hours, “What are you gonna do?”

The question shoots a pang of loneliness through you. Because no matter what decision you make, everything will change. Your friendships will not walk away unscathed, and there will never be going back to the way things were. This was irrefutable, and that thought alone should terrify you, should make you want to scramble back on your knees and beg the gods to turn back time. Yet, it doesn’t. 

No, instead you’re filled with a sense of clarity that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before. It pained you to know that you’ll hurt the people that matter to you the most, but not as much as it would pain you to know that you weren’t being true to yourself. 

It was time for you to choose your own happiness.

“Nothing’s changed for me, Keiji. I’ve always known what I was gonna do. Whether this truth came out or stayed hidden forever… my answer is going to be the same.” You smiled sadly as you spoke to Akaashi, and he offered nothing but an understanding nod, “From now on, for me, it’s always going to be him.”

✧: @kawaii-angelanne @boosyboo9206 @theglitterypages @rntrsuna @vinsmouke @chi-anpan @jinadamsel @kowalsqq @arcorjoan @galaxyfloater3

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polarity | 01 yandere!jungkook au

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader {f}

genre: yandere

warnings: unhealthy behavior, toxic relationships, cheating, manipulation, mentions of mental health (mc has pretty bad social anxiety )

summary: Your best friend’s new boyfriend becomes infatuated with you..

 Her glossy tinted lips stared back at her, raising her hand to touch up her last bit of makeup. Eunji was gorgeous , not like she needed much to make her stand out. But it wasn’t the good looks you admired about your friend, it was the oozing charisma she carried everywhere. Truly, you thought even if she wasn’t blessed with good looks, she’d still have every guy at her feet. Or anyone for that matter. It was just the aura she possessed. She pulled away from small mirror she had in her hand, raising an eyebrow towards you.

“You’re gonna love him.” She promised, and you shook your head. Eunji had said that about each one of her past boyfriends, but still each one didn’t manage to impress you much. For such a pretty girl, your friend seemed to love complete bums. A shame really.

“As long as you like him..” You trailed off, uncertainty clear in your tone. You two both sat at the corner of a small cafe that was located near your apartment complex, La Belle. The place was slow today, oddly enough but the silence was comforting enough for the both of you. You figured that was soon about to change since you weren’t the type to look forward to meeting strangers.

“Y/n I’m serious, I really like him. He’s perfect in every way.” Eunji insisted, leaning forward against the small table in between you two. “ Plus, he’s really hot.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at your friend’s descriptions. As far as you knew, the guy came from a pretty wealthy background which already meant he wasn’t like the usual guys she went for. He was a bit older too, Eunji never specified his job , just that he worked in the same company as his father. You figured it must of been a family business. 

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↳ a very yakuza christmas

summary. injured after an ambush from a rival gang, Mikey finds himself stranded on a local farm with a girl who shows him the true meaning of this holiday season and what it means to finally let all his walls down.

pairings. bonten!mikey x farmer!reader + all of bonten makes an appearance

genre. hallmark christmas feel good romance, kinda a reversed crash landing on you 

overall warnings. fluff, angst, explicit sex, language, mentions of weapons, mild crack, injuries, mention of strippers, Bonten works on a farm, suggestive content, canon typical violence, off screen death, male objectification, romance, christmas themes 

a/n. I wanted to end this year with something fluffy and sweet as a big thanks to all of you for sticking around with my little writing blog <3 ALSO! a huge wet kith to my irl sibling @neetro for helping me give life to this idea bc mikey deserves his happily ever. merry christmas, everyone 💓 (psst feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated!)

wc. ~ 27,000+

listen to. i need you christmas- jonas brothers • luxurious - gwen stefani • here i am again - yerin baek

Bastards.

A false lead. That was what found the stoic, powerful and indomitable Sano Manjiro in the middle of a 30 men free-for-all; blows, punches and kicks delivered swiftly but not swift enough that their faces blended in a mash of jeers and leers. His limbs weighed tiredly by his side, and despite how much he tried to reign in his exhaustion, the Bonten leader was fatigued from the stream of violence that just would not stop.

They had cornered him at his weakest, and he could tell how the fight would turn out—most likely with a mortal wound on his end and these bastards going scot-free, bragging about how the mythical unstoppable Bonten leader had folded to a bunch of small town hillbillies.

“He puts up one hell of a fight, huh,” one of the country hicks chortled, swiping some blood from his broken nose where Mikey had managed to land a debilitating blow. “Let’s sweep him up, boys.”

Attacking him all at once, Mikey felt for the first time in his life a powerlessness that pervaded every pore in his body; not even being surrounded by a hundred men with only Draken at his side during his delinquent days could match to the bleakness he was currently experiencing.

The last thing he felt before white-hot pain lanced through his head was a glob of spittle hacked onto his face, dripping down his swollen eyes that slipped shut on their own as the world around him started to fade into black.

Let’s finish him.

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I WANT IT. ¹

PAIRING | miya atsumu x fem!reader + kageyama tobio

GENRE | angst, smut (18+)

AU | YANDERE

WARNINGS | TIME SKIP MANGA SPOILERS + NSFW + YANDERE! DARK CONTENT AHEAD. minors dni! pwp, yandere behavior, stalking, voyeurism, kageyama fucking you from atsumu's point of view; atsumu being a creep, light degredation, light mocking, tobio being cocky, public sex, public masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected car sex, recording sex without consent, light corruption fantasies, etc. DO NOT IGNORE WARNINGS.

DISCLAIMER | this is a yandere au. dark content ahead. minors do NOT interact.

WORD COUNT | 8.4k

SUMMARY | in which you are the only female manager that has not fallen for the MSBY black jackals' flirty tactics, and after two years of constant rejections and shut-downs to flirty comments, the entire team quit their tactics. excluding miya atsumu and sakusa kiyoomi, whose obsession, feelings, and want to be with you only got stronger and more unhealthy by the day even when you were already taken by another man. and, as a manager, you have to take care of your team members no matter what... right?

BONUS | inspired by this flaming hot ash song called i want it by two feet. FUCK.

PART ONE [ 1/4 ] | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

MIYA ATSUMU WAS A PLAYER IN EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF HIS LIFE. And he loved the feeling of being able to gain something new due to his mechanism of work and his ability to gain whatever he wants due to his status as well. He was not a workaholic, per se, but he loved taking things from working hard for them. He loved the thrill of having the ability to take what he wants when he wants. He loved seeing his hard work pay off. He loved letting certain things go after they became useless. And it didn’t help that he was the precise same way when it came to his sex or love life.

As if everything came easy to him, the idea of getting anyone he wants is not something far out of his reach. He’s a firm believer that he could get anyone he wanted due to his status as a player in every aspect.

Of course, that was until you came along. The newest female manager to the MSBY Black Jackals of Japan.

For the first few weeks with you managing their team, he wanted to get in your pants— much like every team member who worked their asses off and wanted to use a woman for their own pleasure. Nearly every year their managers would quit due to the fact they realized the team members only wanted to get in their pants and didn’t truly appreciate their work as actual managers. They didn’t feel wanted because of their skills in managing, they just felt like used property. And it wasn’t like they would force the managers to do anything, they all fall for their little tricks to blow off steam every time, which is why it was expected that you would be an easy fuck for them much like the rest.

Not you, though. You’ve been the only manager that has not given into their flirty comments and has blatantly rejected every single one of the team members in a moment they’d approach to ask you of anything but your tasks or volleyball expectations.

They can vividly recall the day you were introduced to the team and how they all mentally shared knowing glances to each other, expecting another manager who’ll fall right for their tactics. It started off as inviting you for team dinners after practice, to bars, and even to their own homes and to play it off as celebratory for game winnings. And yet— you still refused.

You weren’t the blushy or flustered type of manager when it came to their endless flirting, you would brush it off and bluntly state that you are uncomfortable with their actions, politely asking them to refrain from asking you out or flirting with you as it is unprofessional and you would prefer they maintain their distance or comments unless it had to do with their needs as team members for volleyball and nothing else. It came off as a shock to the majority of those who attempted to pursue you, but they eventually quit the acts and gave you your space, knowing fully well that a no is a no and that you are here to manage their team, nothing more.

And it worked, they all quit their acts and began to respect your work ethic and you as a person, eventually becoming close to you as friends and the fact you took great care of them as a manager. In fact, you are the longest manager in terms of duration that they have had, having managed their team for two years now, all of their acts have faded into more playful-ness.

You were just so kind and hardworking, they truly appreciated your work ethic for the good of the team. You had a smile that sent jolts of motivation each game, and overall they’d all just grown to admire you. You were just so perfect, and they knew you weren’t one to give in to easy things. So they all quit.

Well, not all of the team members, unfortunately. Your attitude of rejection could barely faze only Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu. The smallest things you did, especially having known you for two years now, sent that addictive feeling rushing into their body to pursue you in the filthiest ways imaginable. And it grew stronger daily, to the point it became an unhealthy obsession for both. Physically, you could assume they are no longer interested in you that way anymore because their flirty attitudes have died down, but oh were you wrong.

Their desire for you grows stronger by the passing minute of each day, and two years have been a major change in their perspective over you than the first day you started off as their manager. It’s as if the first day they met you they realized you’re different and you’re unlike the other managers they’ve previously had. You always stood your ground, had a deep understanding of volleyball and strategies, and you took great care of the team during their biggest slumps.

It’s kind of hard not to fall for you. But, alas, they knew you couldn’t feel the same. You’ve practically rejected them or distanced yourself each time they crossed a few lines. So they resorted to their own fantasies for the time being.

In most cases, obviously, it is okay to fantasize about who you like or admire, in fact, it’s normal to have a crush. But after two years, a normal person would say that it’s not really a ‘crush’ anymore. Instead, it’s become this unhealthy form of infatuation to have you in every way that one small taste of you can feed into it. Although they both seem to be unaware at the given moment that their goal— they both have the same exact goal of pursuing you, no matter the cost— to have you. And you wouldn’t know a single thing about it.

At first, Atsumu was confident you’d fall for his tactics. He couldn’t care less about you rejecting the others, he was just sure you wouldn’t reject him. He was confident he’d be able to get you in his bed and call it a success.

However, the day he tried it did not go very well. His confidence practically broke his ego.

One night, after practice, Atsumu wanted to stay and practice his serves more when the rest of the team left. Although, he mostly just had the plan of purposely being left behind so that he was alone with you. And just because you’re the manager and you were always left to lock up, he finally wanted to experience that first time of his heart beating realizing he was going to be left alone with you.

So when the team left and Atsumu stayed behind, he watched you scribble down a few notes into your clipboard. You looked strangely attractive to him when you seemed to be in deep focus, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip and your brows furrowed. He wondered… if you would make that face of focus if you were to get fucked dumb—!

Sadly, his fantasy was cut off the moment you looked up and noticed that he was still here and hadn’t left with the rest of the team.

“May I help you, Miya-san?” You asked, with an eyebrow raised as you secure your pen into your clipboard.

“L/N-san,” He cleared his throat. “I got permission from Foster-sensei to stay after for a few minutes to practice a couple of my serves, ya saw in last week’s game it was off, I need more practice.”

“Alright,” You nodded, and went back to jotting away at your clipboard. “But, please hurry it up in about twenty minutes so I can lock up early, it is the weekend after all and I do have somewhere to be as well, Miya-san.”

Atsumu was taken back. You were telling him to hurry it up? Just who did you think you were ordering him around to fit around your own schedule? You manage his team to fit their criteria, not the other way around. Who gives a fuck what you have planned, you’re supposed to stay here for as long as it takes because in the end, Atsumu is the star, and you’re just left to run errands for him. He doesn’t hurry it up for you, rather, you must hurry it up for him.

So why did he simply nod at your words without arguing like he wanted to? Why did he keep his mouth shut?

Just who did ya think ya were?

“Yeah, of course, L/N-san,” Atsumu nodded, before jogging up to the net where the basket of the volleyballs was, and he immediately went back to his serves and tosses.

Still, as he faced away from you and continued with his own personal practice for the next thirty minutes, he smirked as he decided to put on this exterior that he always uses and manages to work with every other girl. He had to give it a go at the moment, this is what he was here for; this is what he stayed later after practice for.

He had to try.

Atsumu spun around, holding the ball, and seeing you still deep in focus at your clipboard, he frowned lightly before resorting back to his smirk. It was going to work, he knew it—!

“L/N-san?” He spoke up, you looked up momentarily to his calling before looking back at the clock in the corner of the wall, and standing up abruptly.

“Shoot, it’s been over twenty minutes, I need to go—!” You started softly, before turning back to Atsumu standing in the middle of the court with a ball in his hand, simply looking at you.

“Miya-san, it’s been over twenty minutes! Please put away the ball, so I can lock up!” You ordered as you grabbed the keys from the bench, turning back to see him still standing there with an amused look on his face.

He doesn’t know why he wanted to walk closer and make sure you knew your place… Seriously, what could be more important than him?

“Jus’ a few more minutes,” He started, lightly swallowing his nerves before smirking and slowly approaching you, causing you to raise your brows in confusion. “How about this time, ya watch me do a few serves since ya’ve had yer pretty little head buried inside that stack of papers all day?”

You were taken back by his words and the way he clearly thinks he has the upper hand here. Did he not hear you when you said you had other plans?

“Miya-san, I have plans that I have to tend to. Please put away the ball so I can lock up,” You stated, turning away from him to pick up your clipboard, completely missing the way he caught up a few feet from behind you.

“Yer plans can wait, L/N-san,” He interjected behind you, you stood back up and turned to face him, taken back once again by his stubborn attitude. “I need to practice more and I need ya to watch me do a few serves!”

“I apologize Miya-san, but as I said earlier I have to lock up and I have to be somewhere else by now. I will watch them next week,” You shook him off as you grabbed your bag, gasping as Atsumu decided now would be a good time to grab it from your hold.

Your mouth was left agape, and impatience adorned your features.

“Miya—!”

“I don’t think ya heard me well, L/N-san,” He tsks, his gaze intense as he was holding the bag out of your hold. “I asked ya if ya want to watch me do a few serves and give me feedback.”

“What—?” You stated in confusion. “Hand me back my bag!”

“Stay first,” Atsumu stated, causing your patience to be non-existent at this point. “Then maybe I’ll consider giving it back!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you not hear what I said? I don’t want to!” You exclaimed. “Now give me back my bag!”

Atsumu took a step back and lowered your bag in his hold, causing you to lurch forward and grabbing it from his hold.

No, no—! Did he just ruin everything—?

“I’m sorry, L/N-san! I- I was just messing around! That’s all...” Atsumu trails off after exclaiming with his hands in the air, the ball was long forgotten on the floor.

You look away from his pouting gaze that only now just seemed playful, earlier it wasn’t. As he was clearly trying to keep you in place when you stated multiple times no. Yet, he’s your team member and you have to treat him with respect since he said he was just joking… right?

“It’s alright, Miya-san,” You resort to saying, looking away as you clutched your clipboard and bag. “Your coach asked me to lock up, and that’s what I’m here to do. Please put away the ball so I can do that.”

Again? You seriously just repeated that?

Atsumu was taken back, and girls paid thousands to watch him. He’s offering for free... how come? But he has to understand, due to the fact he almost scared you away.

Almost.

“Yeah, of course,” He bowed, looking at the side of your face as you organized your items in your bag. “I’ll do that right now.”

And he did as you asked, he walked away and put away the ball into the basket and pushed it back into the storage room, watching in admiration as you followed him to lock it. He allowed a girl to control him like that. And for what? What was the reason?

As you stood locking the main door of the gym, he stayed behind you and allowed himself to smirk again, and let his own words linger.

“Ya know, L/N-san...” Atsumu started. “It is pretty late, I can walk ya home if ya’d like!” He offered suddenly, you looked at him in confusion once more and shook your head.

“I am quite alright, I am not walking home yet,” You shook your head frantically, honestly flattered by his kindness but he’s so insistent. “Thank you, though, Miya-san.”

“Are ya sure? Maybe we’re headed in the same direction—!” Atsumu edges you on, and you shake your head.

“I’m good, thanks,” You say bitterly, pulling the door and making sure it’s locked you start to walk away, Atsumy tailing behind you.

“Oh okay,” He frowned. “No worries.”

You gave a weak smile before turning the corner of the street, letting out a puff of air and hoping he wasn’t walking with you anymore. Atsumu's pride was severed, he doesn’t know why he won’t take no for an answer.

He has to try again… and like they say, the third time’s a charm… right?

“L/N-san!” Atsumu called out from the end of the street, causing you to grumble in annoyance and whip your head back, forcing a friendly smile on your face.

“Yes?”

“If not today, then maybe next week—we could grab some onigiri or somethin’? Or whatever you might like—?” Atsumu fidgets with his jacket, cursing himself mentally when you raise a hand and interrupt him.

“Miya-san, with all due respect, I am your manager. I hope I have emphasized that enough. Please refrain from asking me out again, if you don’t mind.” you bluntly stated, impatience adorning your features. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be on my way.”

Atsumu froze in his spot... did he just get rejected? Again? As if the rejection wasn’t enough to convince him that he’s lost his shot, his eyes became clouded with red.

“I understand,” He stated coolly, however, the boiling rage that struck into his ego is at its near maximum. Any second now, he would blow up.

“Thank you,” You bowed respectfully, waving off with a smile as you bid him goodnight.

Atsumu’s gaze sharpened as he watched you walk away. Seriously, what was more important than spending time with him? And rejecting him at once? Do you really have to play hard to get? He was just being nice and offering a spot for only you to watch, it’s like a free ticket to a private game! And on top of that, one of the most powerful setters you manage his team for. So what was it that caused you to reject watching the Miya Atsumu practice his receives when they’re near perfected at his matches? People pay a fortune to get front row seats to one of the best teams of Japan, especially for the top setters in the nation!

You can’t just reject him… do you even know your place?

Atsumu eyebrows unfurrowed, and he puts a small smile on his face. However, nothing about it screams kind. It’s the unsettling sort of smile that adorns his features, the one accompanied by wide eyes bulging out as they watch your figure leave the gym. The face of a person who’d just gotten slapped in the face and knows damn well that he’ll absolutely corrupt whoever slapped them… That he’ll make them regret their choice of words. That’s what it felt like, especially since Atsumu’s knuckles turned white by the way he’s formed his hands into fists on his sides.

This has never happened to him. Just who the fuck were you?

Atsumu’s smile widens, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

Looks like he’ll have to teach you some manners.

When the following week had come and Atsumu saw you walk into the gym with an innocent-looking smile, he presumed you’d completely forgotten about the encounter that happened between the both of you last week. But that’s okay, he’ll have to remind you about it later since it meant a great deal to him. It was the day Atsumu decided he’ll just have to try harder. It’ll mean a greater deal to you in time, he hopes.

It’s honestly just like a match. He’d practice harder if he lost, that’s all. That’s what it is. It’s the same thing. You and volleyball are the same thing, basically.

But he most likely inferred that your smile has to do with the new shiny diamond ring that circled your ring finger perfectly, the one he may or may not have seen you wear for the first time with tears of joy.

The tears of joy he may or may not have seen as he allowed his footsteps to keep moving in your direction that night right after your rejection.

The footsteps that padded behind you all the way to the fancy restaurant where a handsome and dreamy man in a suit sat at a beautifully decorated table with fancy silky cloth and rose petals, the faint smell of sparkling champagne in the air.

He saw the way you gleefully approached the man. Running into his arms, as if it was your safe haven you’d fall into after a hectic day at work. He dressed very nicely, while you remained dressed in your gym and manager attire, not as fancy. Atsumu mentally curses himself for being selfish for once and taking up extra of your precious time that you probably would have used to change out of these clothes and probably wore something fancier and out of what he’d see you regularly wearing. He could have stayed behind and watched you wear that, slowly but surely every inch of the fabric stuck to your skin and if he had wanted to rip it off. (He imagined it to be like that one purple dress that hugged your curves and cupped your tits that he saw while mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram he follows from a secret account. Nothing crazy though, it’s not even under his name.) But he’d never rip it off the first day, the first time will be consensual. And that’s important!

But Atsumu thought the manager's clothing kept your modesty and your true beauty since you’re clearly out with a rich man and you didn’t want that to be something people looked at you for. You’re you, not what your relations paint you out to be.

A rich man… from an opposing team?

Wait…

What the fuck is going on?

Atsumu’s eyes seem to widen more the moment he realizes that the man’s arms you just ran into… were Tobio Kageyama’s; the opposing team of the Schweiden Adlers' official setter.

He also happened to be Atsumu’s rival since high school. The moment he saw his neutral expression soften at your appearance, his knuckles turned white from the clenched fists he formed again. Atsumu could physically feel his blood boil at the sight of the opposing setter.

It’s like knowing that your significant other is none other than Tobio Kageyama made this entire situation of infatuation significantly worse. Now Atsumu just had to get you.

However, he wonders what Kageyama thinks. You’re managing his opposing team’s match. He wonders how Kageyama feels about you spending hours with his team; traveling and taking such… good… care of them. Atsumu knows he’d never trust his own girlfriend to be around so many men. So much could happen. He’d keep her just to himself, and pay no other man attention. But it seems as if Kageyama is unfazed, clearly the way he held you in the middle of the restaurant as you seemed to be pressed flush against his chest and sighing from fatigue just shows his amount of trust and love for you that it’s nothing to him. Especially when Atsumu caught sight of the chaste peck he placed on your forehead as he held you. Clearly, he’s a popular setter too, getting attention from millions of girls on the daily.

Atsumu internally gags at the idea of putting so much trust into one another in a relationship. Seriously, who doesn’t get worried and paranoid that the other might be cheating? It’s only normal.

However, it wasn’t until you gave Kageyama a sweet kiss on his cheek and he sat down to wait for you, that Atumu really reached his limits. He was waiting on literally anything to hold against Kageyama, to show you that he’s not the setter you should be with. He’s got to be flawed. That it should be Atsumu; it should be his arms that you run into after a long day at work for him as well—!

Okay, he was getting ahead of himself. First, he wants to fuck you. He wants to see if the moment he released all of himself inside you that it’d be a worthy investment of his time and love into you. Do you really deserve it when you’re rejecting him like a brat?

Anyway, he was waiting for a moment to seize— and as if the gods answered his prayers, a group of young women who were sitting at a table nearby got up from their seats and walked over to approach Kageyama. He looked up in confusion and Atsumu could barely hear what they were saying as they tried to surround him. However, he could only assume that they were fans and probably wanted a picture with him.

Oh-ho?

Atsumu felt a dark smile form onto his lips the moment he saw a girl latch her hand at his Kageyama’s shoulder. Atsumu couldn’t let this go to waste— this was his chance! This was his chance to prove to you who’s the real setter you’re managing! Not this cunt who’s letting a girl touch him.

The moment Atsumu whipped out his phone to take a picture, however, he saw Kageyama swat the girl’s hand from his shoulder, standing up abruptly and faintly demanding they leave even though he’s flattered.

“The bastard’s loyal huh?” Atsumu grumbled under his breath. But the answer to the question of Kageyama’s loyalty to you still didn’t faze him. Atsumu was going to have you and take you from him, obviously.

As if on cue, you opened the restaurant door clutching the same bag from earlier, except this time, the loose cloth was dangling from the bag— your manager's clothing— and you were wearing a petite cream-colored dress that hugged your hips and gentle body so well.

That’s just embarrassing… Atsumu grumbles under his breath in utter annoyance as he feels the material of his shorts tighten with the tent that began to form, leaves of the bush he stood behind ruffling as he began to adjust his legs in a more comfortable position. He couldn’t help it, the thrill of being the only guy among the Black Jackals who’s seen you out with an outfit that only leaves imagination up to the eye.

Anyway, Kageyama stood up and placed yet another kiss on your face, except for the raging fact he placed his lips on yours this time, mentally groaning at the fact you kissed him back just as passionately, your hands tugging at his jacket as he held you.

Seriously, quit it with the PDA it’s pissing him off—!

Atsumu’s wishes were granted as soon as Kageyama’s lips pulled away from yours and feathered the last one for a while on the top of your soft hair. And as you both sat down, Atsumu knew he’d have to just observe incoherent words of you both just conversing with each other, ordering your food together, and whatever else the night may have stored for later.

Atsumu expected something simple and old-fashioned from knowing Tobio. He expected a boring date with just a fancy dinner. He expected this to be just some normal date that couldn’t hint at seriousness between you both. He honestly expected you to fall asleep at one point. But none of that happened.

Tobio Kageyama was an entirely different person from his point of view as he managed to pull that heavenly giggle and smile from your lips throughout the entire night. Even after you both finished eating, you stayed and just talked for what seemed like forever to Atsumu. The gentle touches and soft shoves you both gave each other as you wholeheartedly listened to him and he, you. Atsumu’s mouth only gaped at Tobio’s behavior around you. He looked truly happy and content to be with you at every second that seemed to pass— and the part that stung Atsumu the most was just how happy you looked and felt with him too. He could just tell that this was definitely something that was serious.

It’s a shame he has to ruin something so beautiful for his own benefit. But it must be done— it just has to. Atsumu could care less that you were happy with someone else. Moreso, someone Atsumu has thought of as an enemy since high school. In fact, this just made things easier for him. It would be like knocking two birds with one stone.

He gets to finally defeat the Adlers’ setter in something other than volleyball, and he gets to have you. He gets to take you away from Kageyama. And it made sense anyway, it’s not like you managed the Adlers. No, you managed the Jackals. And it will just have to remain that way forever. He’ll ensure that.

But Atsumu never expected this night to become something he felt that he almost couldn’t take anymore. Or rather something that would complicate his plans just a bit. Because no, the night to Tobio was clearly far from over. He heard your laughs die down and a small gasp escaped your lips. However, from Atsumu’s position, he could barely see what was going on since he could only see you sitting with your hand over your lips, and Kageyama was nowhere near his chair.

Curse the expensive dark-colored sports car that was parked in front of his hiding spot. He could barely see a thing!

Atsumu tch’ed as he pulled out his phone and clicked on his camera to zoom in and get a better look at what was going on. He nearly dropped his phone at the sight of what it depicted. Kageyama had gotten on his knees under the table, oddly enough he did it in a discreet manner that no one noticed. Atsumu could see under the cloth how his hands on your knees parted your thighs slightly enough for his head to peek in right in between them. Atsumu could see the way Tobio looked up at you from under the cloth— he could only guess one thing. Lust. But perhaps lust wasn’t just it, if that were Atsumu under the table, he’d be able to tell it’s deep of love and devotion to you.

But this was so unexpected of Tobio. He never struck Atsumu as the type to be into pleasuring you out in public, the mere thrill of being caught obviously straining his boxers. Atsumu’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you carding your delicate hands through Tobio’s hair… he could… hear you sniffling from far away?

Atsumu zoomed in with his phone and noticed a light reflection coming from… a jeweled ring held in his fingers on top of your thigh... It’s as if he could tell the look on Tobio’s face was daring and endearing at the same time.

He was fucking proposing to you, under the table of a fancy, public, and dim-lit restaurant, with the full intent of marking you with nothing but love mixed with pleasure with his tongue.

No wonder ya both skipped on orderin' dessert.

Atsumu could only wish he heard the absolute tender yet dirty words spewing from Tobio’s mouth under the table to you. He could only wish he heard Tobio confess his intent to fully devote his love to you by making you his— and if the world caught sight of that moment, he wouldn’t mind. He’ll have you forever.

But first, (unfortunately unheard by Atsumu) Tobio will have to hear just how much you want your boyfriend to make you gush around his tongue; giving him the dessert he didn’t get to order while you beg for him to make you his with the ring he clutched between his fingers. Tobio seemed to chuckle darkly at your needy expression towards the ring in his palm. You wanted it— you practically begged to have the ring wrapped around your finger by him. Atsumu could tell you said yes; because his gaze became clouded with a sense of darkness, envy, and lust as he watched Tobio dip his head further into your embarrassed cunt. Atsumu’s tent tightened the gap between his shorts and thighs as he watched you bite your hand from moaning loudly at the pleasure that began to form from Tobio’s tongue alone. He could tell you wanted to throw your head back and tug at his dark hair.

Atsumu thanked the gods for the delicious moment and for his hiding spot because it didn’t take long for him to slide his bruised hand from setting into his shorts, reaching for his annoying erection and palming himself through the material as he watched Tobio fuck you with bliss on his tongue. He mentally cursed at the fact the recording wasn’t going to be enough due to the fact he can barely see you and Tobio’s facial expressions, but that’ll have to do for now. He can always fantasize and remember— it’s what he’s been doing up to this moment anyway.

Atsumu bit his lip as he finally saw you tug at Tobio’s hair, your fingers turning white as you held his locks; he could tell you were getting close. Atsumu’s breath increased as he realized you weren’t the innocent little manager he thought you were after all. The mere fact you could come undone in just a few minutes from simple tongue fucking and in public where anyone could see just rocked him closer to his own orgasm. He can’t imagine just how much more he doesn’t know about you. All he knows is that he wanted to be in Tobio’s position more than anything. He felt himself drool at the thought of being able to taste every inch of your cunt with his tongue— he could just imagine how sweet you would taste. He could tell from the way Tobio ravaged his tongue against your folds like he was drinking his ungodly flavored milk he couldn’t get enough of back in high school.

It’s as if Tobio had become an entirely different person when he met you. And Atsumu couldn’t blame him because he felt the same exact way. But it doesn’t matter, he’ll have his way with you. And when he will, he promised himself he’ll do it over and over— however long it would take to erase Tobio’s way with you permanently. Until you won’t want anyone but him.

Yeah... he’ll have his way with you.

Atsumu let out a muffled grunt against his jacket as his legs shook with the orgasm that rippled itself into his body like electricity. His cum squirted all over his bruised hands, groaning at the sticky sensation. He’s touched himself before to the little thoughts of you, of course; but this was something he got to witness firsthand. This was probably the best orgasm he’d had from jerking off to you. Surely, this wasn’t going to be his last?

Atsumu’s breathing slowed as he was able to tell you came around the same time he did because he watched Tobio’s head disappear after placing a kiss on your wrist from your hand that is stuck in his—now—messy locks. He watched from the distance as you came down from your high, chest heaving up and down slowly, your cleavage slightly out due to the fact your dress was shuffled a bit with Tobio’s hands.

It was beyond Atsumu how literally nobody around you noticed what just happened. He raised a brow when he noticed Tobio still under the table, but he smirked as he realized the opposing setter was clearly trying to adjust the mess he made in his pants. Unbeknownst to Atsumu, Tobio took care of your pleasure while taking care of his own. Meaning Tobio palmed himself under the table and came right as you did... in unison.

Unison… like the fact he sealed your finger with the ring as you both came undone together. An orgasm that was so precious to Tobio due to the fact you must have cum while you said yes. Cumming undone in public and sealing your fate with Tobio in unison. To say Atsumu was severely jealous was an understatement. He was utterly annoyed and, inconveniently, rock-hard once more even though he came only a moment ago. Clearly, it wasn’t enough.

He grunted in annoyance at the but his attention was back at the fact you and Tobio just got up abruptly from your table, Tobio placing the bill for the dinner and grabbing at your hand in the other, walking you out and crossing the street.

Atsumu’s eyes widened behind his disgraceful hiding spot, you were crossing the straight right in his direction. You were both practically approaching his hiding spot.

Holy fucking shit— did they see him? Did they actually catch him in his contemptible position as he pumped out his filthy desire from watching you cum?

Atsumu silently panicked as you and Tobio were feet away from his crouched position. But his heart rate died down the moment he reached for his car (that was his sports car?) keys and opened the passenger door for you to climb in with wobbly legs. Atsumu’s gaze lowered at your ridden up dress, your thighs were exposed more than they were earlier, clearly from earlier. And from his crouched position, he could see the bare outline of your drenched panties. Atsumu mentally cursed at Tobio for still allowing your wet cunt to soak your panties. If that was him, he’d have licked you up until there would be no drop to even form a wet spot on the thin material. Or perhaps it was intentional— which would make sense to his new side Atsumu had never seen. He barely knew the man and his plans now. What was next? Was that it?

No, of course not. Atsumu, or rather any normal human being, would only assume that was just a little thing to get the night started and that daring Tobio definitely had more planned for the rest of the night. He could only imagine just how hard he’ll fuck when you get home and immediately go to bed. He’ll probably since he sealed the deal and adding unprotected sex to the list isn’t too far from his plans most likely.

Atsumu would definitely fuck you without any form of protection if he’d proposed to you. He’d lose count to how many times he’d fill your cunt with his pent-up load that he wouldn’t be mad if you got pregnant. Of course, this was a far-fetched idea of getting you pregnant. But it doesn’t hurt to think outside of the box.

Atsumu mentally let out a whine. He wanted to follow you and Tobio home. He wanted to witness it first-hand. But unfortunately, he had to get home and sleep early, due to the fact he had press and a bunch of other shit to deal with in the morning. But perhaps the universe smiled down at Atsumu today. Because the moment Tobio shut the car door behind him, he lifted you by your waist, almost in a rough manner, and pushed you to the backseat.

Atsumu felt a drool down his cheek. This was so exciting. This was unbelievably filthy. In the car? In front of the restaurant?

Not bad, Tobio-kun.

Atsumu watched as Tobio went to the backseat as well and pulled you to straddle his waist. Despite the windows being closed, the backseat window had a faint opening. From the close proximity of where he was hiding, that was deliciously vivid to his view and hearing. Atsumu’s terrifying grin widened as he pressed another recording, sliding his hand under his shorts once more.

“I don’t think you did a good enough job at the restaurant hiding your moans, love,” Tobio muttered as he slid his hand under your dress, toying with your sensitive clit. “I want to give it another try, except this time, I’ll make you and my car shake. How does that sound, pretty girl?”

Tobio clearly left the window open on purpose, almost daring you to moan loudly for everyone around to hear. To hear you moan loudly about just how good he’s taking care of his woman. Buying her fancy dinner, getting dessert right from her own source, proposing with a blindingly shiny ring that presented success and accomplishments, adding the cherry on top with you now being secured in his life. He was going to fuck you until you could never forget tonight.

In a way, Atsumu felt lucky to watch, to witness a moment so important in your life, a moment that was meant to only you and Tobio to look back on. And he almost feels bad for staying hidden, recording this unforgettable moment.

Maybe he’ll show the recording to you in the future when he completely breaks this moment. When he replaces it with another moment that erases Tobio. But maybe he would show it to you. It could serve as a reminder that he’s not what you deserve. You deserve better, you deserve him. Not some rich yet other powerful setter. You have him, you should forget about Tobio Kageyama.

Yeah, you should savor this moment until the very end. Because many more will come where Tobio won’t be in the picture. Atsumu made that promise to himself.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

Atsumu’s sweat prickled on his forehead as he watched you bounce on Tobio’s cock— his head thrown back against the leather seat, fingers brushing against your nipples through the dress very so often as it elicits soft moans from you. But he could tell you were trying to keep it down. He could tell Tobio was fucking you good.

“T-Tobio, mmh—! I think I’m close already!” You whined against his clothed chest, your tears from the sensitivity of earlier streaming down your cheeks with every thrust.

“Already? We just started. You wanted my dick that much when I wrapped that finger around you, baby?” Tobio cooed as he watched you struggle to take him, bouncing ever so lightly as you do. “That’s okay— I intend to make you cum for however much it takes. Not every day you get proposed to, Y/N. I won’t let you forget.”

“Baby, please! Go faster, ‘s too big,” You whined at his words, causing Tobio to scoff as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind on the headrest of the front seat.

“Was tongue fucking you not enough prep, my love?” Tobio asked as he pinned you, his thrusts getting faster at your request, to the point where you throw your head back against the headrest of where your hands were pinned. “Thank god I’m marrying you and this tight pussy. I’m sure this will be a common occurrence. But that’s okay, I’ll fuck you loose. Loose from me. Me only, love.”

Ya liked this, L/N-san? I could make ya scream next time. I’ll do it. I won’t hold ya back from yer beautiful and dirty sounds like Tobio-kun— I’ll help ya let it all out…

Atsumu’s grip on his own cock increased in speed as he heard your moans become louder. He felt bad for you as he palmed himself— what if someone hears? That’d be embarrassing and a little clumsy of you. You get to come while filthy people watch— watch Tobio thrust up into you faster as he gets closer to reaching his own climax. Mouth latching onto your neck and hands tugging at his dark locks in the tinted windows of an unnecessarily expensive sports car. Your delicious view of tits bouncing right in Tobio’s face, making him groan into your skin and grope the flesh harder.

“Fuck—engh! Y/N, it’s honestly like your getting tighter. But I’m a bit confused, love, aren’t you enjoying this a bit much?” Tobio chuckled at your fucked out expression. “I guess I’m planning on marrying you for a reason. I get to fuck and understand this pretty little body all by myself. Of course, you—fuck—you want that too, huh?”

You were enjoying this so much, L/N-san. I’ll give ya this and more. I will.

“You’re jus’ too big for me to handle sometimes, Tobio, I can’t—mmh—! Help it!” Your breathy moan escaped with your words, leaning against his torso to steady yourself as you feel yourself getting undeniably closer to your release.

“Damn right I am. We didn't order any drinks and you're already drunk on my cock," Tobio chuckled at your helplessness. "I bet you were just waiting for me to get down on my knees for you, hm?"

"I've been waiting for months—fuck— months for you to propose, Tobio," Your riding slows from your legs giving out, causing Tobio to groan and resort to thrusting upwards into you since you clearly can't do it yourself. "'M so happy you did."

"'M happy I did too, baby," Tobio smiled, genuinely, before increasing the speed of his thrusts, capturing your swollen and plump lips with his own, as if pouring his heart out with it.

Atsumu groaned as he felt his orgasm hit him like a rock, his cum spurting out of his hands in an intense manner onto his disgraceful seat in the audience. Your final moan being loud enough that Tobio had to muffle it with his mouth on yours. The wet clashing sounds that came from your swollen lips and tongues wanting to be closer than ever. His arms sneaking around your back, pulling you closer as you both road out your amazing high; hands blazing a fiery trail across your waist and up to your back. He kissed you with much force that Atsumu was unsure if you had to pull away to breathe and compose yourselves.

But to his surprise, you pulled away and pressed a soft kiss against Tobio’s cheek— falling tiredly into his chest. He didn’t even pull out— he let you sit still on his softened cock— feeling the occasional thumping of your painted walls that are clamped around him. Tobio held you in comforting silence, feathering sweet kisses to your pretty little head.

Atsumu groaned the moment he heard Tobio mutter an ‘I love you’ into your ear, you murmuring one just as soft and sincere. He fought the urge to gag at the sincerity and realness in your confessions to one another. In the next practice match— even an official— he would make sure to target him a lot more rough than usual. What was this supposed to be? It was way too real to be a joke. It pissed him off.

His legs began to give out and shake from his crouching position, Atsumu lightly gasped as he lost balance in his knees, causing the bush in his hiding position to ruffle from his shifting movements. His eyes widened as he saw Tobio twitch his head in his direction.

Fuck— he needed to get out of here. Atsumu clasped his cum-stained hand to his mouth and nose, covering any slight movement or noise of his breathing being held in. He was not going to get caught.

“What’s wrong?” You mumble into his chest, from feeling him shift suddenly. Tobio turned back to look at you in his arms, softly carding his fingers through your hair.

“Did you hear that?” Tobio muttered as he held you close to his body, hearing you mumble a no against his chest, nuzzling against his warmth. “Thought I heard somethin’.”

“Probably the wind,” You suggested, looking up at him, your lips moving from his chest up to his exposed neck, and placing a trail of soft kisses up his Adam's apple, causing your lips to vibrate from his throaty chuckle. You gasped as Tobio lightly yet roughly tugged your head back slightly with your hair, forcing you to face him up, you tightening around his length as he looked into your eyes, smirking darkly.

“Probably,” He whispered, pecking your lips. “Or probably not. Either way, you’d like it if some fucking creep watched me fuck your brains out though, huh? Or if they heard your moans, wouldn’t you be ashamed, love?”

“I w-would!” You let out a whimper at the sharp thrust that came from Tobio, Atsumu’s mouth agape at Tobio’s words.

“Tch. Lies,” Tobio muttered, as he dipped his mouth to bite lightly at your neck, thrusting up once more aggressively. “My soon-to-be wife and also my pretty little whore. Mine. No one will ever get to fuck you dumb like this— all mine.”

“Only y-yours,” You moaned at Tobio’s rough touch, causing him to groan against your skin.

“And you will be— from now on until forever, you understand that?” Tobio looked at you with lust and love all at once— intensifying the way his thrusts felt as you felt another orgasm approach your sensitive cunt that was cockwarming him not too long ago.

“Mhm—! Forever, Tobio,” You purred as he sped up his thrusts, causing your legs to shake as you couldn’t help the way you immediately gushed around him hard, therefore fulfilling Tobio’s promise— one that caused the car to lightly shake as well.

Holy fuck.

Atsumu practically came untouched for the third time— his legs definitely gave out as his orgasm ripples through his body, he felt himself fall on his ass, quietly— but he couldn’t leave yet. That was unbelievably the most real shit he's ever seen. Not just because he wanted to see if this would go even further or if you would go for round four, but because if he gets up he’ll immediately be seen.

Tobio pressed a softer kiss against your forehead and a longing one against your lips before gently lifting you off his cock, and helping you fix your messy dress, lowering it down your legs, and pulling your creamed panties up your filled pussy. You shivered at the wet sticky-ness before letting Tobio carry you back into the front seat, helping you with the seatbelt before going up to the driver's seat.

Tobio didn’t even waste time— he was more than likely to continue the real thing at home. To give you his all tonight and expect you to take it without question. Atsumu envied that, he envied that deeply. He's never gotten to experience fucking that came with sincere emotions that intensified the orgasms pulled from both sides. And to an extent, it stung that he had to wait for you to drive away with the man before he stood up from his hiding spot— sighing at the feeling of blood rushing down his legs due to the fact he was crouched for a long while. He shook off the dirt from his knees before he walked to his own apartment.

And that was what made Atsumu’s smile widen horrifically as he watched you approach the team the following week; and hand out the tickets for today’s practice match trip. Atsumu is always the most excited when it comes to field trips. He gets to spend more time with you! Well, as much as you’d let him, of course. Baby steps. He’ll have to take his time before trying again— he wouldn’t want what happened last week to occur again. He’ll give it time.

You’ll come around, of course. He’s sure of it.

And approximately a few feet (yet what felt like miles away) his own teammate stood with just as much darkness and lust in his eyes. The darkness that presents the goal of having you in every filthy way imaginable; darkness in his pretty curls.

Darkness that's quite similar to Atsumu's. All while, of course, is perfectly concealed by the fabric over his mouth— that masked his own expressions about you.

for every reblog i’ll give you a kith on the nose <3

want to be tagged in the following parts? join taglist here.

storge, i.

. . . an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, base on similarity.

MINORS DNI.

—This series will have nsfw themes + scenes.

wc: 1.6k | hanamaki takihiro, matsukawa issei, camgirl!reader.

— fluff, angst, suggestive ; established relationship, slowburn, mentions of sugar mommy/sugar baby relationship, usage of ‘slut’+ so unlike oikawa’s series, this second four-parter is going to be heavily suggestive and will have nsfw scenes. only +18 kids are allowed in this one, i’m sorry. but the next one after this is more light and humorous and will have context on what happened here!

masterlist. ; tip jar ! ; next: storge ii.

It doesn’t surprise you when the iced tea splashes down thickly and cold down Matsukawa Issei’s head and neck. You saw it coming as soon as Makki elbowed you, looked up, and saw the darkened aura of her expression and the vice-grip she had on the glass.

“I hope you live a miserable life, Matsukawa,” she forced through gritted teeth and glittering eyes. She didn’t spare either you or Makki a glance as she walked out to her awaiting friends, giving out their own curses with their eyes as they took her in their arms and out of the mess hall.

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jordy’s 2k celebration ⤸

in celebration of this blog reaching 2k followers, i’ve decided to hold a mini celebration as a special thanks for all of the support that i’ve received so far! ♡

to celebrate, i’ll write a mini drabble (500 words, max) for you, and a character of your choosing. this can be either fluff or smut, but whichever you choose, please only enter if you’re aged eighteen or over. to enter, please see the rules below:

via ask, please send in your preferred pronouns, and which character/s that you’d like to be paired with ~

please also let me know whether you’d like your piece to be fluff or smut ~

it would also help if you could tell me a little about what you like about your chosen character/s. these asks won’t be published, they’re just to help me with building an image for your drabble, so feel free to ramble away ~

reblogs would be greatly appreciated ~

depending on how many requests i receive, it’ll probably take a few days to write these, so please note that i won’t start posting until 8/1/23 at the earliest >.<

again, thank you all so, so much for your support over the last few months—i cannot put it into words just how eternally grateful i am to have not only joined this little corner of the internet, but also for each n every one of you who has made this experience as wonderful as it has been so far ♡ thank you ♡

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.