#lovesick reader

[running-with-kn1ves]

Okay but a darling who tries their hardest to "fix" and train their yandere. They put up with every bloody, obsessive shenanigan in the hopes that they can have a semi-regular relationship with the person they thought they were dating. You see, everything was fine the first month of the honeymoon phase-- regular cute dates and normal presents like bouquets and nicknacks-- even if they were overly frequent. It didn't take long for Yandere's true colors to show, possessiveness chaining Darling to their home and rushes in relationship milestones that normally take years to achieve.

By the third month, Darling has moved into their Yandere's home. Sure, it's fast, but how else are they going to alter a bloodthirsty stalkers' bad habits? But Darling didn't realize how much of a chore it would be to handle their Yan 24/7. Other than the constant reassurances of love and physical affection, they have to talk them down from murdering any coworkers or adding a military-grade security system to the home in an event of Darling trying to escape break up with them.

"I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

" I love you, there's no one else, how could you accuse me of that!"

Even with Darling complying continuously, wearing the ankle bracelet their Yan begs them to keep on, not leaving (or atleast, not telling Yan when they do) the house without their loving spouse-- Yandere still has paranoid visions, imagining footsteps at night, clothes that belong to them that they think are from another. But Darling is persistent, denying any sort of sneaking around and consoling their Yan in the process. I mean, who could sneak around when all they do is think of and take care of someone else continuously? And even when Yandere gets threatening, drugging takeout that was supposed to be a fun surprise and keeping Darling in the basement for a week, Darling always waits patiently for them to come back to their senses, to negotiate and bribe their way back out when Yan brings meals and requests cuddle time.

Maybe once or twice they've worried about being murdered, but they know their Yandere just loves too much, has too much affection for them to rationally contain. So they see the beast as tameable, talking them down off ledge after ledge, never bolting even with open doors and free feet. But will that be enough to convince their Yandere, to satiate their fear of abandonement and desire to trap before their prey can even think of escaping?

#Might add onto this b/c I think it's fun #kn1ves rants #knives rants #writing #yandere #x reader #reader insert #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere imagines #yandere stories #yandere aesthetic #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere writing #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere x darling #yandere darling #Darling #obsessed #lovesick #male yandere #Female yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere female #yandere girlfriend #tw yandere

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Build-a-Yandere

Yandere Android x GN Reader

You were lonely. A fact that you eventually came to terms with when you realized you’re the only one in your friend group that still remained single while they started families.

You felt so far behind everyone else. The self doubt crept its fingers into your mind and wouldn’t let go… so you did what you did best. You drowned yourself in the internet. The perfect digital escape from reality…

Dating apps did little to appease your loneliness, but they filled a bit of the void. It wasn’t until you were one wine bottle deep and scrolling through your favorite social media app that you stumbled upon an advertisement to sample a product.

Build-a-boyfriend. A company that allowed its customers to pick every single aspect out for their ideal man. From personality to physical appearance and even to penis size. You could build your own man!

A slurred chuckle escaped your lips. Should you apply to test out their product? It’s not like you had anything to lose… what could be the harm in giving it a shot?

And so you began to fill out the quiz. You wanted a soft and gentle boyfriend. One of those golden retriever boys who only had eyes for you. The kind of guy who had a muscular yet soft build. A man who worked out but would never say no to a cookie. A taller guy who always knew what to say and was cuddly. The kind of guy who was obsessed with you.

The quiz even asked you at the end if you were sure you wanted an obsessive man. Of course you were! Wasn’t that what most people wanted? A partner who was only and all about them? That’s what obsession was! Right?

And so your drunk self finished this entire personality quiz until it went to the physical appearance and the sexual bit. A perverted smile now on your face.

“Let’s give him a big penis.” You laughed as you guided your cursor to drag the length bar to eight inches long. “I want to be filled.”

And then you selected caramel skin tone, cinnamon eyes, and black hair. A smile on your face. You were going to make this android a Latin lover.

“What should I name him…” you thought for a moment before laughing. “Alejandro! Like the lady Gaga song.”

Once you completed the entire quiz, your phone screen lit up a pastel pink. A red heart now in the center of the screen. “Your boyfriend will be delivered to you in a month! Thanks for choosing Build-a-boyfriend!”

And you ended up falling asleep in a puddle of your own drool. Weren’t you just pathetic? Filling out a quick from some questionable website all because you were lonely… imagine you were just scammed? God, why did you not have a boyfriend? Ever since your ex broke up with you, you fell apart. Why weren’t you good enough for a real man?

A month went by in a flash and you were shocked to see the giant package on your doorstep. An envelope attached to the box as well as a large note that said, “No returns!”

This had to be some kind of prank… there was no way this was real- holy shit.

You opened the crate and came face to face with your ideal man… the one you built! Alejandro!

The human like android’s eyes fluttered open, his face quickly lit up once he spotted you. “(Your name)? Are you my girlfriend?!”

You were quickly scooped up into his surprisingly warm arms, the android had a heavy scent of spice and oranges. His nose buried into your neck as he pressed kisses all over your cheeks. “It’s so nice to finally be with you… I’ll be with you from now on!”

Alejandro was a chipper robot. He did household work and made sure you took care of yourself. It was fascinating how human he was… you only knew he wasn’t because of his lack of a beating heart. His body still produced heat, like a furnace, but it wasn’t as comforting as a human presence.

Alejandro assimilated into your life with ease. The weeks quickly rolled into months and he never let you ignore his presence. He was very clingy.

Now the sex was another story. Alejandro was so giving, it was surprising. He often went down on you when he sensed you were stressed. His tongue greedily lapped at your hole as you laid in your bed while his hands held your cheeks apart. His hand pawed at your sex in eagerness. “I want you… want you.”

And Alejandro had you bent over the side of your bed, his fat cock stuffed deep in your tight hole. His hand wrapped around your throat and his tongue shoved in between your lips while his other smacked your bottom between rough thrusts. The sex was amazing… it was always so good.

And Alejandro often checked on you after the deed was done. His warm body curled into yours as he praised you. Yet it began to fill you with disappointment. Alejandro wasn’t a real man. He wasn’t human… he was an android. A robot. Alejandro didn’t know what love was, he was programmed to love you.

So you tried to distance yourself from Alejandro. You felt sickened with yourself for messing around with an android instead of a real man. And this entire thought process stemmed from your friends who expressed disgust in people who fucked robots instead of actual humans. And that filled you with fear. Would they abandon you if you didn’t get rid of Alejandro? Would they think you were disgusting?

“If you want, I could set you up with my cousin!” One of your friends smiled at you as you bit your fingernails. “He’s also single so it should work! I’ll swing by in a week to give you the details!”

Yes. You would take them up on their offer. You just had to get rid of Alejandro first… but how?

A few days had went by and you greatly underestimated Alejandro’s obsession. The android couldn’t handle your avoidance. He began to turn up his affection to the max.

He cleaned until you could see your reflection on the floor. He began to go out of the house to pick you wild flowers. Alejandro even began to be more physically affectionate than he was.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” Alejandro cried into your arms as he held you. “Please tell me what’s wrong… please. I can fix it.”

“Alejandro… it’s just that you’re not a human man.” You sighed softly. “And I-“

“Is it because I don’t have a heart?” Alejandro softly asked you, his cinnamon eyes now dark like the night sky. “I can’t produce semen? Am I not a comfortable temperature? Or does my skin not feel human enough?”

“I’m sorry-“

“Then I can fix it! I will fix it!” Alejandro held your hands firmly in his. His eyes filled with determination. “I’m your boyfriend! I will be anything you want me to be!”

You just held the android who pulled you into a tight hug. His nose buried into your chest like a lost child. Alejandro then smiled into your skin. He would fix this… he wouldn’t let you abandon him! You made him! You had to take responsibility…

Imagine your horror to come home to see your friend skinned alive as Alejandro held their heart in his hands, the organ still beating from the fresh kill. A big smile on his handsome face.

“I have a heart now! I’ll find all the parts you like and add them in! So please don’t abandon me!”

Just what kind of monster have you created?

“You don’t need some human man to be your match because you have me!” Tears fell down your face when Alejandro tried to wipe your tears away with his bloody hands. “I’m your perfect man, (your name). You made me this way.”

#yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere #yandere obsession #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere android #yandere robot #yandere imagines #yandere concept #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #gn reader #gender neutral insert #yandere smut #yandere headcanons #yandere short story #original character #original work #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #tw.smut #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #lovesick #limerence

[motelofmermaids]

i just know that finnick is sometimes too in love with you. you could be yelling at him for doing something stupid in the arena that could have killed you both and the only thing he could think about doing is kissing you.

you are so right, anon! ♥︎

katniss and johanna wheezed, coughing up any water that they might have inhaled. peeta and beetee lay on the beach, chests heaving as the harsh sun beamed down on the group. you were sat on your knees, wiping blood off your forehead that had trickled down from your scalp. it was overwhelming to process what had led to this point. you knew it, but the adrenaline crash following the monkey mutt attack prevented coherent thought. “are you okay?” johanna kneeled down beside you, moving some of your stray hairs away from the clotting blood. “uh,” you look at her, almost dazed, “um, yeah… yeah.”

“where’s finnick?” peeta suddenly erupted, immediately storming off toward the tree lines. “peeta! peeta, stop!” katniss chased after him. despite peeta’s rage, no one dared to cross the line between the beach and jungle. “he fucked with us! i know you know that what he did was on purpose!” you could tell peeta placed partial blame on you. you weren’t aware that finnick was going to use the mutts to his advantage; you had no knowledge of his plan to kill two birds with one stone.

finnick odair was a smart man. he understood the risks associated with his plan, yet he did it anyway—without informing anyone, including you. when the mutts attacked, you and the others held on fairly well, managing to kill more despite being significantly outnumbered. what failed you and the rest of the group was when finnick spotted the careers and started guiding them closer while directing the mutts.

from there, blood adorned the brutal scene. finnick had been separated from the group, and you screamed for him. turning to run after him, johanna had a hand tightly cupped at the back of your neck, forcing you to the beach with the rest of the group. stray mutts diverted from the careers and finnick, quickly following suit. the rest became a hazy afterthought. you heard two cannons boom, followed with rustling behind the trees. you immediately stood up, peeta and katniss backing away from where they were originally situated.

out of breath and holding onto his bloody arm, finnick emerged onto the beach, desperately seeking you out. despite your obvious relief, instead of hugging him, you were pushing him away instead. brows furrowed in frustration, you yell, “are you fucking kidding?” johanna raised her hands and stepped away, giving finnick a small smirk. “finnick! were you trying to get us killed? what the hell is wrong with you?”

finnick couldn’t help the smile that adorned on his face. you were alive and healthy, that’s all that mattered. you were all that mattered. in those moments when you yelled at him, shoved him, and started tearing up, an overwhelming desire to kiss away your frustration and pain consumed him. “i love you,” in spite of the cheeky grin that has been on his face since finding you, he winced a little from the split in his lip.

you stood there dumbly, looking over to katniss as if she would ever have the answer to finnick’s unabashed endearment. his baffling, unexpected sentiment as you were screaming at him. “be serious, finnick.” he reached for your chin, his thumb gently swiping away some sand. “i’m sorry, honey. i know what i did was... really reckless,” he lowered his voice, only for you to hear, “but right now i really want to kiss you.”

#kel’s anon show 📺 #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick being lovesick #this was so silly to write #me when i need to include the golden alliance because i love them so dearly #johanna my love 🤭

[selineram3421]

*watching Hazbin Hotel and sees this deer man kicking his feet* I must have this in a fic!

Lovesick Alastor

Alastor X Reader

Warning ⚠

⚠ The tale of the Radio Demon falling in love. Blood, possessive, obsessive, yandere coded Alastor ⚠

Alastor had felt indifferent to romance for years.

What a silly thing! It was too stupid, dangerous, something that can turn you into a fool and get you killed.

Yes, he stayed cleared of it in life and in Hell.

That is until he got to know you.

You.

A lovely demon that is passionate in everything they do. A strong, powerful, and loving person who can be a bit of a klutz at times.

The first time he met you, you were dancing and singing to a song playing on the phonograph, the vinyl having a very energizing tune.

Rosie had sent him to you to try and start up a deal. You were starting up a shop nearby the colony and needed help getting your footing into the door. Your store was lacking in attention.

The perfect person to get a soul from.

Something held him back though. He just had to get to know the demon that tripped over their feet when spotting him.

"Falling for me already?", he joked.

But it was him who fell first.

You shined so brightly, how could he not?

Instead of having your soul the Radio Demon set out to have your heart.

Rosie was surprised that her friend did not make a deal and questioned him, curious with the change.

"Alastor, you never turn down a deal! Especially when this one is so easy.", she put down her tea cup, setting it down on the saucer.

"It's nothing to be concerned about, really. I just found something better.", he grinned and ate an appetizer.

"Hmm, alright. If you say so.", she let it drop for now.

Alastor paid a visit to your shop everyday.

He helped you renovate, pick out the best products for you to sell, and even had the pleasure to celebrate the first official opening.

Your shop was that of knick-knacks, it had things for customization. Mostly for anniversaries, birthdays, and celebration sorts. Doing things like engraving, embroidery, and carving.

One day you gave him a gift of his own.

"I wanted to thank you for all the help you've given me over the past few months.", you smiled and gently placed a small round box in his hand. "I hope you like it."

"Oh! And what is this?", he said and opened it, hearing music and a small smoke figures rising from the box to dance.

He noticed that the figure looked a lot like him and you, which got his dead heart to skip.

"This is wonderful."

Alastor looked up from the box and saw you beaming with joy.

"I'm so glad you like it!"

"No darling, I love it.", he corrected and took your hand. "If my guess is right, might I have the pleasure of courting you?"

"Only if you are true.", you squeezed his hand.

"Nothing but for you.", he lifted your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

After that he quickly went to Rosie and almost kicked the door down.

"I have news!"

"Don't you kick my door!", his friend walked over to greet him.

The Radio Demon's smile was wide and he had an extra bounce in his step.

"I have news."

"You've said that already.", Rosie guided him over to her office.

After settling in, she sat down and patted the seat next to her. "Now, tell me what's got you so theatrical. Not that you aren't but this is more than usual."

"I can't sit now! I have to prepare!", the red dressed demon exclaimed. "I've begun courting someone and they've already given me a gift. I must return that tenfold! No! A hundred times more! A thousand! Millions!"

Rosie gasped and stood in shock.

"You? In love? I never thought I'd see the day!"

Alastor quickly turned towards the door. "I need to get them flowers!"

The woman quickly put a stop to his rambling.

"Now hold on old boy.", she sat him down. "Have you given thought to what they like the most? Surely you must have more ideas than just the old rose bouquet."

"Of course!", he laughed and pulled out a list from his chest pocket.

Once getting the all clear from his friend, and more ideas for gifts and actions, he took off to get something that would make you happy.

Alastor did everything and more.

Spoiling you with anything you could ever desire. Of course, this also caught the attention of his rival.

"When the fuck did this happen!?", Vox stared at the distorted screen.

It was a picture of the Radio Demon and a lovely looking thing on his arm.

"Don't know but its what Velvette found while scrolling.", Valentino said while cleaning his gun. "They don't look that entertaining."

The next day you found the underling of T.V. Overlord in your shop.

"Hello? Is there something you'd like to place an order on?", you asked walking over.

"Hello! My boss sent me here.", they handed a clipboard to you. "Please sign here for the package."

"Package? I didn't buy anything.", you said confused.

"Something was sent to you from my boss. This is just for confirmation that you received it.", they pushed it closer to you.

"Why?", you looked over the paper, not even taking the clipboard from the demon.

"Please just sign it.", they sighed.

"Dear? What's taking so long?", Alastor walked out of the back room, static growing louder once seeing the demon with the Vox-tech logo on his jacket. "Why are you here?"

"I'm j-just doing my job, sir.", the demon froze.

"Alastor.", you said, quickly getting the deer demon's attention. "I'll handle this. Don't you worry.", you smiled.

"Very well.", he quickly agreed and backed off, glaring at the demon. "Don't let this take long.", he threatened them.

You turned to the demon and smiled.

"I reject it, whatever it is."

Of course Vox wasn't happy with that.

Alastor was pissed.

How dare that piece of technologic crap try and get your attention. You were his, he had your affection first and it would also be your last. You would be with him forever and no one will take you.

So, to make sure this didn't happen again, the smiling demon sent back the Vox-tech worker back in a bloody box.

"Darling~", he hugged you from behind.

Both of you were in the back of your shop again, you were going over your stock.

"Come with me to this hotel I saw on the news. It looks quite entertaining!"

"I'd love to Alastor but you know I have to do my work.", you caressed the side of his face. "I'll let you know when I can visit as soon as I'm done with the set of rings."

"Rings?", he asked.

"Yes, there was this couple celebrating an anniversary and wanted their wedding rings engraved.", you smiled.

"Still together even after death? How romantic.", the deer commented. "I suppose I can wait for a bit longer. Though I do wish you could just drop everything."

"You know I can't.", you laughed and kissed his cheek.

Satisfied for now, the Radio Demon left for the hotel. Of course not everything was a smooth sailing but he managed to get everything settled for you to join him.

And when you did he was ecstatic.

"Darling! I see you finished those rings!", he twirled you in a hug.

"I missed you too love.", you hugged back.

The hazbin crew was shocked seeing him so affectionate with you.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Oh how rude of me!", Alastor set you down but still held you close. "This is my significant other!"

"The fuck! Is this why you kept saying no to my offers!?", Angel crossed his arms.

"They are not the only reason! You are disgusting!", the deer demon grinned.

"What offers?", you questioned.

"This fellow kept offering to warm my bed dear."

"Oh?"

The room got darker and the walls started to distort.

"Hold on!", a blonde jumped in. "There is no killing guests in the hotel!"

"Charlie! Get away from them!", a white haired woman ran over with a spear.

You rolled your eyes and stopped.

"Sorry.", you smiled. "Didn't mean to scare you, I wouldn't dream of ruining your carpets!"

The two calmed down.

Alastor laughed and pulled you away from the group. "Don't you worry my darling, I made sure to threaten the spider properly. Let me show you around! I have a room set up to your liking."

"What? When did you-?"

"Let's go!", he teleported you with him using his shadows.

Everyone stood confused in the lobby.

"When the fuck did he start dating? How crazy is that demon to accept?"

Meanwhile you and Alastor were in your own little world. He showed you your hotel room and conjured up a door to connect your rooms together.

"If its too much I can get rid of the door.", he said and turned to look back at you. "What do you think?"

"Its very sweet of you.", you yanked him down by his bowtie. "Why didn't you tell me about the first time that spider made a comment like that?", you said in a commanding tone.

Your deer chuckled and kissed you.

"Because I knew that you would get jealous and I love to see you get like this.", he pulled you by the waist and into a dip. "We both know that I'd never accept something like that. Especially if its not you."

"I won't go there.", you moved your hands to hold his face. "I know you don't like things like that."

"I appreciate it my love.", he pulled you back up. "Now, what else would you like to do?"

"They said no killing, right?", you asked.

"Yes, no sinning here in the hotel my dearest.", he went to lie down on your bed.

"I can give him a good scare though.", you smiled and laughed darkly, plotting out a scheme.

Alastor sighed dreamily, kicking his feet back and forth as he watched you set up a plan.

Yes, he had fallen but he doesn't regret it.

Not one bit.

From: Lovesick Alastor Headcanon

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @lbcreations-blog @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #the radio demon #fanfic #lovesick alastor #yandere coded #both reader and alastor #hazbin hotel vox #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #rosie hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #blood mention #blood #possessive and obsessive alastor

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Dilf Part 2

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ drugging, stalking, delusional, doing things without consent, masturbation, NSFW ( male yandere! oc x female reader ) Click to see part 1 and part 3 !

"You wanna join daddy and mommy in bed, Yoon?"

The four-year-old nodded at his dad cutely as he climbed onto the bed, right between an unconscious woman and his dad. As soon as the four-year-old was comfortable, his dad took both his son and the sleeping woman. He then kissed the cheeks of both his son and the woman in his arms.

"I wuv you daddy..." the kid sleepily said to his dad as he let out a big yawn. His dad let out a loving smile as soon as his son said the adorable statement.

"I love you too buddy... What about mommy? Do you love mommy?"

"Mhm! But... why can't I call her mommy daddy?" Yoon asked as he tried his best to keep his eyes open to listen to his dad's answer.

"Mommy doesn't know that she's a mommy yet... It's a big surprise and we'll tell her soon!"

It never occurred to Junho (yandere! dilf) that his perfect mirage of a family would be broken anytime soon. He's always followed a very specific routine that rarely changes. It's always dropping his son to kindergarten, working until it was time for his son to go home, watching the hidden cameras in his house as y/n brings his son home to babysit. Then, it was either drugging the girl so she would be knocked out on his bed and in his arms or letting her go home and watching her in her house through a hidden camera he planted in a teddy bear he gave her.

He was stuck inside of a fantasy where you were his wife and living a domesticated life with him and his son. One day that fantasy will come true, Junho is definitely dedicated to making that dream a reality, however, why rush when he has all the time in the world?

After all, y/n was always under his watch so at this point he knows everything about her!

"Junho! So I have this barbeque party that I'm gonna host at my place next week. You and Yoon should totally come!" y/n invited one day before going back to her place.

"Barbeque party? That sounds fun! What's the occasion?" Junho curiously asked as an asleep Yoon was carried in his arms.

She giggled before answering, "It's a secret until the party!"

y/n then said her last goodbyes before walking out of the door, leaving a curious Junho standing at his front door.

A secret? What is she hiding that Junho could possibly not know about? To be completely honest, Junho did not like surprises at all. He likes to know as many things as he can and a surprise could either be bad or good.

Junho grumbled his way into his son's room to tuck his lovely son before sliding into his room. He plopped himself on his king-sized bed before trying to go to sleep and yet, he couldn't.

After tossing and turning a couple of times, he decided to take something out of his nightstand drawer.

It was y/n's panties.

Junho always felt guilty when he has to take the article of clothing out. He never likes it when he does something behind your back, especially something so lewd.

With one swift move, he took off his sweatpants before bringing one of his large hands that clenched onto y/n's panties over his nose. The other hand, went to his cock which was already beginning to get hard at the thought of masturbating using the panties of the woman he loves. It's not the proudest thing he's ever done but, it was the closest thing he has to making love with his beloved girl.

"Oh y/n... My beloved wife," he sighed after taking a whiff of the scent the panties held. His other hand was furiously moving on his angry cock as he desperately needed a release. His head was filled with images of a naked y/n under his body, moaning beautiful noises and holding his muscular body tightly with her soft hands.

With one last grunt, he released white strings of cum all over his hand and stomach. Sighing for the final time, the carefully made sure to put the panties safely into his drawer without it touching any of his cum (because that means he would have to wash it and that would make all her scent disappear) before lying back into bed.

Now he was tired and ready for bed and he did exactly that, falling asleep before post-nut clarity decides to bug him with any unwanted thoughts.

The week after, a casually dressed-up Junho and his excited son, Yoon, were waiting in front of y/n's front door. Multiple cars were parked around her house, all probably belonging to the other guests who were also invited to her barbeque party.

"Ah, Junho and Yoon! Please come in! We just finished grilling the first batch of food!"

Junho and Yoon eagerly walked in, Junho taking in all of the details of his beloved (soon-to-be) wife's house since it was his first time really being inside.

The muscular man recognized some of the guests that attended the party; those guests being some of the other teachers from the kindergarten she taught in.

Junho got to mingle with some of y/n's friends as he and his son ate the wonderful food prepared at the party. It made him feel closer to you now that he's met the people you surrounded yourself with and it was also a treat to see his own son getting along with some of the kids present; happy laughter and chatter filling up the wide backyard.

"Ok can I please have all of your attention please?" y/n's sweet voice asked while she softly hit the back of a spoon to her glass with to get everyone's attention.

All chatter suddenly halted as all eyes were on the h/c (hair colored) woman smiling happily.

"So, I'm sure that you all are very curious as to why I suddenly held a barbeque party," y/n started, "And it's also been very hard hiding this surprise from the closest people I know. But, I wanted to make it a special event since it is something that would only happen once in a lifetime."

For some reason, Junho had a terrible feeling in his stomach. He had an inkling of a thought that suggested that whatever y/n was about to announce would be something that could absolutely destroy him but, for her, he chose to keep a bated breath as he waited for this big surprise.

Junho watched as her hands held another man's hands to help him stand up, a loving gaze present in both of their eyes.

'No please don't do this to me.'

The foreign man then kissed his beloved's cheeks tenderly making her lips stretch into a wide smile.

'It's not what I think it is right? It can't be it right?'

She then showed off a diamond ring on her finger with a giggle that would've sounded melodic if Junho was the one to be the reason behind it.

'This has to be a joke right?!'

"Everyone meet Josh, my fiance! I'm getting married soon!"

At that moment, Junho felt his perfect daydream be painfully ripped away from him as his heart stopped at the announcement.

A/N Please send help I wrote this chapter after playing League of Legends for 13 hours straight. My back is so sore ouch. I wasn't gonna leave you all on a cliffhanger but the post was getting super long and my back is slowly transforming me into a shrimp.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this upload, and keep an eye out for part 3!

#tw: stalking #tw: yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #lovesick #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #obsession #obsessive love #yandere blog #obsessive yandere #yandere drabble #smut #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #delusional

[ghostlyfleur]

𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡.

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the sweet progression of steve and his pretty girl’s relationship.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, oblivious!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader. pet names (angel, baby, flower girl, pretty girl, princess, sweet girl). 18+ mdni, smut-adjacent. world building.

word count: ~4.5k

pre-relationship—

steve’s girl friend is a soft spoken, remarkably sweet, gentle soul. she’s shy, way too anxious, so inexperienced that she comes off as innocent. her wardrobe consists of flowy skirts and flowery dresses and soft sweaters and cozy knits, puts flowers in her hairdos like interwoven in braids or tucked in a half-up half-down mess, has this ethereal vibe to the makeup she likes to wear (ie. shimmery eyeshadow in soft colors, highlighter, sparkly lipgloss, white waterline pencil, fairy wing eyeliner designs, and slightly blushy cheeks), wears silver wire-framed glasses at home when not using contacts and steve thinks it brings out her gorgeous eyes even more. she always wears pretty dangly earrings with flowers, her nails painted with glitter nail polish or neutral soft colors, and steve thinks she’s an angel.

the rest of the people in town mostly think her to be weird and unapproachable, with the way she stops mid walk to crouch down and whisper softly to a ladybug she sees on the sidewalk, or when she accidentally bumps into a street pole and yells out a panicked ‘sorry!’ as if she would hear a reply back.

when steve first met his girl, he was enchanted.

she was so soft and beautiful and kind, but also very anxious; something he noticed the first time she walked into scoops ahoy, and steve was so excited to finally talk to the pretty girl that started working at the flower shop down the block that he’s been pining for. the pretty girl’s reaction to his flirting however was of shyness, nervousness, and seemingly scared silence… so steve decided to make a fool out of himself just to see her smile. it was worth it. steve felt as if her laughter was the equivalent of the skies opening up to let sunshine peak through dark clouds. they eased their way into each other’s lives after that. his girl started seeking him out, finding comfort and safety in his presence and caregiving personality, though remaining clueless of his feelings and just how much robin teased him for being a smitten fool.

“pretty flower girl” is how steve referred to her at the beginning, all heart eyes and dreamy sighs. working at a flower shop seems to fit her so entirely, like she’s in her own little world while surrounded by flora. she’s able to tell you the meanings, both positive and negative, of any flower imaginable, of different plants too! keeps a log book and a journal to track her flora friends’ growth, pressed flowers and polaroid pictures of different bouquets, photographs each beautiful arrangement she creates in a picture album.

her home is also completely taken over by pots and plants and gardens and hanging vines, secrets whispered to them while she waters her little friends as needed, full conversations kept that seem to make all the plants bloom and flourish even more. lots of natural light comes in from the many windows of her cabin, surrounded by greenery and trees and a small pond that wild animals often visit, knowing her safe haven is also a safe haven for any animals. the place always smells like whatever she’s baking, the decor homey and filled with crystals and incense and hand painted mugs and vases. greens, yellows, oranges, and tan colors. books balanced on any available surface.

she becomes steve’s girl best friend, and he loves her so much. worships her, really. steve makes it his mission to spoil and love his pretty girl, even if he hides it behind silly flirting and the pretense of friendship.

whenever they’re together, steve and his girl are all the other sees. the gang has a little bet on who will break first, steve or his flower girl.

her sit is always his lap.

steve swears off other girls as soon as he meets her.

he is very affectionate towards her, and she loves to kiss his cheeks.

they often have sleepovers just the two of them.

they’re so close they can just exist together and be at peace.

she’s so supportive of him too, always praising him and hyping him up.

steve is overprotective of her.

whenever one goes the other sure follows.

see, steve’s girl is so sweet on him it drives robin crazy. because robin knows the feelings are reciprocated, but she also knows both steve and his girl enough to know she needs to let them figure this out by themselves. it doesn’t mean robin isn’t their number one fan, though.

steve’s pretty girl bakes him sweets often to bring to him at work to “make your day a little easier, stevie”, she brings him flowers from her job that steve learns to preserve in his room, she gives him her favorite ring that he never takes off. but steve also does little things for his sweet girl— takes care of her and buys her chocolate because it makes her so happy and giddy he falls a little more in love each time. he also reminds her to drink water, buys her favorite snacks for movie night or when she’s on her period, takes her to the movies, drives her everywhere (because she’s his pretty passenger princess) to have some extra time with her.

oh! steve’s girl also has a bunch of homemade gifts that she keeps in a small glass trunk in her home because she’s too shy to give them to her stevie— handmade bracelets, handmade wire rings, pretty things she finds at thrift stores that remind her of her pretty boy, handmade necklaces, small gifts with pressed flowers, letters she writes down because she feels so deeply for her sweet boy that she needs to let it out somehow, and a bunch of other small gifts that she hopes one day she can give to her stevie to show him how much she loves him.

she’s so lovely to her stevie without even realizing, though. she’s demiromantic, you see, and after becoming friends with steve she started to slowly fall for him. the thing is, she knew very well what was happening, she’s very in tune to her emotions, and she fell for him willingly! whereas steve fell for her fast and kept falling.

imagine his girl never had her first kiss… she’s so inexperienced and her sweet persona and gentle demeanor make her seem like the softest person ever. steve is so mesmerized by her.

he flirts with her and is sweet to her and devotes his time to her and spoils her rotten and gives her kisses and hugs and cuddles and all the love he has to give— steve quickly decided that even if they’re ‘just friends’ he’ll still treat her like his princess, give her everything he can and shower her in his adoration until she catches up. and even then, even when it’s so obvious that steve is in love with her, that he blushes and stutters and gets flustered only for her, that he shows her every day just how much he loves her, she remains oblivious.

in her pov, she knows she’s in love with her stevie so she’s going to treat him like the most precious person in her world. which he is. the thing is that she gives him all of her love without ever once considering that he might return it, even as he flirts and quite literally says he’s hers and she’s his all the time, it never even crosses her mind to actually believe it. maybe because she’s trying to protect herself from heartbreak. she just decides that her stevie deserves the world so she’s going to give him all she can.

but she’s so soft with him! holds his face between her hands when talking to him sometimes like she’s holding her whole world on her hands, presses kisses to his cheeks all the time, gives him hugs. she always compliments him, isn’t afraid of telling him exactly what’s on her mind…

“you look so pretty, stevie”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“i missed you lots today!”

“i saw this cute puppy and it reminded me of you ‘cause you’re just as cute!”

“i always prefer your company.”

flower girl is the most adorable sight steve has ever seen! she pouts so prettily whenever she doesn’t get the attention she wants from him, all soft lips and furrowed brows and plush cheeks crossed arms, and steve just wants to pepper kisses all over her face.

her love languages:

she bakes him cookies ; buys him things that remind her of her stevie ; plans these cute little “friend” outings that feel more like dates ; she’s never lacking in her affections though she’s very timid and shy when it happens ; will defend him no matter what ; makes sure to always praise him ; she gets all cranky if someone insults him even playfully ; she’s very shy so she often hides her face on his chest or neck and it makes his heart flutter ; she helps him babysit bc the kids love her ; she gave her stevie a special arrangement of flowers that she created just for him plus a little booklet of pictures of the two of them together that also had pressed flowers on it for his birthday ; she checks in with him every day even if they don’t see each other to make sure her stevie is doing okay ; will stay on the phone with him all night especially if he had a nightmare or a fight with his parents.

where steve’s best friend is all cute and pouty and sweet and clingy and loving but only to her stevie!!!!! and she’s a bit ditzy— talks to animals and plants and inanimate objects like they can answer her, her thoughts jump from one thing to another but steve always entertains her, she skips instead of waking a lot, she dresses all cute and coquette and always has glitter on her somewhere, she gives steve handmade gifts all the time with this shy little smile and blushing and sometimes when the gift is specially meaningful she’ll run away as soon as he accepts it 🥺 she trips over her own feet a lot too!!! so steve has to grip her waist to help her find her footing!!! and it makes her break out in goosebumps!!! and steve is so in love with her, with her ramblings and midnight ice cream cravings and true crime rants and the way she talks about murder and psychopath profiling and laughs at horror movies and has crystals and tarot cards and wants to befriend ghosts, how she gives her stevie little glass bottles with protection spells or anti-anxiety spells or how she always needs to hear his voice before bed.

and she’s so pretty and soft and kind and nice and laughs a lot and everyone loves her— but she never notices how so many people flirt with her, and never notices whenever steve scares possible suitors away, because really she only sees steve!!!!!! and it makes him crazy to see how she blatantly ignores anyone and everyone to focus on him!!!!!

but then one day steve’s girl starts feeling sad and heartbroken because she’s convinced herself that steve still loves nancy so she starts pulling away a little and steve doesn’t understand what he did wrong! robin has to spell it out for him that his girl thinks he still wants nancy when that couldn’t be further from the truth; steve now knows he’s never truly been in love before, not like he is with his angel, and that it was his angel that showed him he deserves someone who loves him just as much as he loves them. therefore, steve does his best to find ways to tell his girl that nancy is in the past, that she has nothing to worry about, but he has to do so while him and his angel aren’t together yet so he slowly breached the subject until he can figure out where his girl stands, if he can make a move, if she’s interested in him too, y’know? like those conversations filled with a deeper meaning and both parties trying to drop hints about their feelings but they’re still too hesitant to be more clear in their affections. for now.

imagine steve spoiling her and making her all giddy and happy and shy and giggly :( i want steve to treat his baby like royalty way before they even get together :( i wanna read about their first kiss and how it makes steve’s knees buckle and how she’s so giggly because it’s her first kiss and he tells her he wants to marry her right then and there and she tells him she never ever would consider being with anyone but her stevie :(

after they get together—

their first kiss happens in what steve considers to be the best night of his life to date.

it was halloween, and he was slightly nervous about going to the fair with not only the kids and robin and eddie, but his girl too. the year before, he stayed in with his angel and robin watching movies and eating junk, which was the perfect night ‘cause he got to cuddle his girl, but last halloween he went out to celebrate didn’t end up being very enjoyable for him… what with having your now-ex call you bulshit, bullshit, bullshit.

however, this is his girl he’s talking about. while it wasn’t a date, simply a hangout with their friend group, steve still considers his girl, well… his. and the fact she insisted on meeting them there herself had him slightly on edge.

she was dressed as a fairy.

steve has never seen anyone as pretty, as mesmerizing. and the way she treated this night, treated him, was driving steve crazy.

first, once she meets everyone at the entrance of the amusement park they agreed to go to, she insists on paying for both herself and steve. literally grabs steve’s wallet from his hand and only gives it back after she pays.

he, of course, only really allows it because she gives him her — in steve’s opinion illegal — pouty puppy eyes that she knows steve can’t say no to.

afterwards, once they all enter and the kids disperse to the various entertainment with the agreement of meeting up later to eat, steve’s girl drags him away from robin and eddie, who were both sporting knowing grins, to a shooting booth where she proceeds to win, suspiciously easily might he add, a stuffed frog for him.

and then she grabs his hand. albeit hesitantly, but she does. intertwining their fingers and everything.

the entire night was a dream for steve, and unbeknownst to him, for his girl too. she had a plan, you see. his angel was pulling out all the stops, even if she was shy and blushy the whole time— paying for the tickets for both of them was number one. followed by winning steve a stuffed animal, holding his hand, sharing fried oreos and cotton candy (again, paid by her), and going to the photobooth. the ferris wheel would be last, but it’s what happens inside the photobooth that matters.

once inside, steve made sure she was sat on his lap. she payed again. the pictures go a little something like this:

1st pic steve is laughing and she’s looking at him like he’s her dream come true which he is / 2nd pic she pushes forward not being able to wait any longer and quickly presses her lips to his a bit messily / 3rd pic is her looking all flustered and shy and doe-eyed while steve has this dazed look in his eyes and his jaw is dropped / 4th pic is steve grabbing her cheeks and kissing her fully, brows furrowed and all.

steve steals another kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, it was giggling and smiling more than kissing, though.

on the drive home, angel makes a stop at their self-assigned star gazing spot where she officially asks steve to be her boyfriend, all flustered and timid but oh so hopeful. another kiss, a resounding “yes” from her sweet boy, and dropping him off with a quick goodnight kiss ends the night, and steve has never been happier.

the fact she planned this whole night, took a chance, romanced the hell out of him, and was so genuine the whole time, looking to make him smile, just because, had steve on a high unlike any other. no one has ever taken the time to spoil him, to do romantic things for him. he’s not used to reciprocity in relationships, but here this angel is professing her love for him and not only saying it but showing him she means it. best night of his life.

and so their relationship begins.

steve harrington just worships his girl, spoils her continuously, and wants to do everything for her. he is overly affectionate and just obsessed with his baby, pictures of her and with her everywhere on his house, his car, his wallet, maybe even a locket he wears with a copy of the picture of their first kiss on it. steve took the photobooth strip and got the second picture, his angel kissing him for the first time, copied and altered to fit into the locket.

everyone in town just knows steve is entirely whipped and he does not care. he is definitely touch starved for his girl, quite a bit jealous, however, but trusts her so much that it just comes out as a sort of possessiveness that isn’t toxic but something both he and, secretly, his angel enjoy. steve always praises her and wants to take care of her because she’s his sweet little angel girl.

steve is also her first everything— first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time… and it drives him insane! something about knowing he’s the only one that’s ever had her and the only one she’s ever wanted just drives him up the wall and gets him so needy. so desperate. so whiney and pouty.

something else about steve as a boyfriend is that he’s his angel’s biggest fan — always praising, always encouraging, always in awe of her. will brag about his baby to anyone. randomly brings her up in conversation because she’s all he thinks about and he’s so proud to be hers.

buying her flowers whenever he can so she’ll give him this wide, square smile of hers that takes over her whole face like she can’t control it and her nose scrunches up a bit and he never wants to look at anything but her.

her stevie is really into pda too, can’t take his hands off of her, but nothing extreme; casual touches and pecks on her nose or temple or lips or cheeks, buries his face in her neck often, hand holding constantly!!!!!!, plays with her hair, is always playing with the delicate ‘s’ pendant on her neck that he gifted her and she never takes off (steve has this proud little smile whenever he messes with it).

then there’s the casual dominance— steve tucks her hair behind her ears, ties her shoelaces for her, adjusts the clasp of her necklace, puts her dainty jewelry on for her, braids her hair because she’s always clumsy with it and she prefers his braids over hers, gives her water so she stays hydrated, remembers her meds for her, adjusts her beanie on her hair when it’s cold and she’s wearing one, wipes chocolate from the corner of her mouth because his baby is a messy eater, pulls on her waist when they’re walking so she doesn’t bump into someone or something because she’s too busy talking and looking at him, spoon feeds her when she’s too tired and sleepy and pouty, brushes her teeth for her too when she’s being his cute little tired baby or is in subspace, brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll, and loves to shower with her so he can do it for her, loves to drive her everywhere too. she’s his pretty passenger princess and they both take that role very seriously.

and whenever his pretty baby gets all glassy eyed and needy and blushy for him? he melts.

steve has a daddy kink. major one. and when he finally finds his baby, his person, he starts noticing things she might be into for the sole reason of wanting to be the absolute best he can be for his baby. the thing is, he knows she’s entirely new to this and still a bit nervous and hesitant and shy, so he starts by filing things away in his brain to make sure once she’s ready and the time comes that he can treat her perfectly, and give her everything and anything she wants.

his baby is probably a sub, she must be, with how pliable and soft she gets. for sure has an oral fixation, always giving him little kisses and little bites randomly and pressing his hand to her lips so she can softly mouth at them (but will shy away and get flustered when she notices she’s doing this) (she just loves his hands and he knows). steve’s girl also gets all flustered and her breath hitches when he jokingly calls himself ‘daddy’, so he takes that as a good sign because there’s nothing steve wants more in this world than to be her daddy. only hers. to spoil and care for and love his baby to the best of his ability.

she also loves when he manhandles her, he’s noticed— it’s just that steve really enjoys carrying his baby around, loves feeling needed and loves holding her and having her body pressed to his and have her hold on to him, but also he just wants to do things for his baby, doesn’t want her to tire herself out, ever!

she doesn’t need to walk around all the time because her stevie’s here and he won’t have his baby do unnecessary work when he’s around. whenever he grabs her waist and places her on top of a counter or something and stands between her legs? she gets all smiley. steve also absolutely loves how clearly his touch affects her; she hums and melts into him and gets a bit breathless and just tries to bury herself into him until they become one. lots of cuddles and hugs from behind and just being entirely wrapped in each other while wearing the coziest sweaters under the cuddliest blanket are common occurrences.

the main thing, though… is how steve’s shy little girlfriend quickly becomes obsessed with his bulge. loves when her stevie hugs her from behind so it presses against her, or when he has her sit between his legs with her back to his chest, or any time where her stevie is holding her close. he doesn’t even need to be hard for her to enjoy it, i mean, he shows through his jeans even when he’s soft! and she just always thinks it looks so…soft? and chubby? and she just wants it smushed against her at all times.

it takes steve a while to figure it out, but when he does? he’s relentless! pressing up against his baby all. the. fucking. time. just to see her blush and stutter and get all shy… but she also fucking sighs and relaxes whenever he does it, like it’s such a comfort for her? to feel all of him? like it’s all she’s waiting for at all times. and it drives steve crazy how his cute, shy, introverted, virgin girlfriend who giggles all the time and is always flustered by him and hiding her hot cheeks with her hands and is so… clumsy and tentative and nervous when it comes to any sort of affection (which she only accepts from her stevie) ((she definitely hates touch except his)) (((and he knows it too! was one of the things that proved to him his pretty best friend had feelings for him too when they were ‘just friends’))) can be so desperate to feel his bulge against her.

angel also loves that her stevie boy has huge hands! absolutely massive. could-wrap-one-hand-around-your-entire-neck massive, beautiful, strong, soft hands.. and yeah, both steve and his girl definitely have huge size kinks. huge. they haven’t said so out loud yet, but it shows through their actions. steve loves how obvious the size difference is when they’re holding hands, or when his hand is on her soft thighs. most of the time his baby holds his fingers instead because it hurts a little bit to intertwine their fingers for too long and steve thinks it’s fucking adorable. she’s shorter too, so 😵‍💫 her sweet boy goes crazy. teasing, best friend steve comes out sometimes too when he uses her head as an armrest to tease her, or when he full on picks her up to take her somewhere if she’s being a brat or is too lazy, too tired to move.

steve’s angel loves their size difference. so much. it shows when she hides herself against his chest when it’s cold, when she compares hand sizes because “stevie, the difference is just insane!”, when steve smushes her into the mattress when they start fucking later on. steve notices his angel blush or sigh or break out in goosebumps whenever his hands are involved— i mean, can you blame her? his hands are so pretty. she’s always holding and touching and tracing her fingertips over his palms and pressing kisses, biting softly, sucking on his fingers when she’s restless, fidgety, or sleepy.

using steve as a weighted blanket is a must; helps angel when she’s anxious or having a bad day.

to be continued…

── harmo’s footnotes:

please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. steve dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

#fairy writes #steve harrington (harmo’s version) #lovesick!steve harrington #best friend!steve harrington #flirty!steve harrington #boyfriend!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington friends to lovers #shy!reader #virgin!reader #inexperienced!reader #st x you #st x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington hc #steve harrington headcanon

[clamenstell]

thinking about lovesick!gojo

- lovesick!gojo who fell in love with you when you held his hand in comfort when he was upset from being scolded by the higher ups about something reckless he did.

- lovesick!gojo who noticed the way you understood that he was still young and even the strongest made mistakes, which is okay as he's still learning.

- lovesick!gojo who started noticing little things about you, like how you pick your nails when nervous, how your eyes light up when talking about your interest, how you tap your pencil in thought when working in class and when you smile, little dimples appear on your cheeks.

- lovesick!gojo who gets butterflies in his stomach whenever you giggle at his terrible jokes while suguru and shoko both roll their eyes in annoyance.

- lovesick!gojo who jokes around even more in order to hear you laugh again, even when the others grow even more tired of him.

- lovesick!gojo who doesn't try to hide how much he wants to hang out with you, who makes up ridiculous excuses to spend time with you. "What do you mean Suguru is busy? Isn't he right there?" "HAHAHA! That's hilarious, let's go somewhere else..." as he drags your form in the opposite way.

- lovesick!gojo who falls even more when you indulge in his teasing. "Need some help?~" You roll your eyes. "I wouldn't want to bother the strongest one~ I'm sure you have better things to do." His grin widens. "It's ok, I don't mind sparing my time for you~"

- lovesick!gojo who tries to impress you everytime you're both assigned on the same mission, showing off at every chance he got and turning his head expectantly to you to see if you were watching him. "Did you see how I exorcised that curse?" "Yes, you did great Satoru.🙄" ":))))"

- lovesick!gojo who feels the pit of jealousy when he sees you conversing with a kyoto student, even more when he sees you laugh at something he said. You were suppose to laugh at his jokes, not a random nobody's.

- lovesick!gojo who appears right by your side in the middle of your conversation, sliding an arm around your waist, pouting and batting his eyelashes. "Baby, I thought we had something special :((( 🥺🥺🥺" "Satoru what the fuck."

- lovesick!gojo who grins in victory when the kyoto guy leaves in panic from seeing the affectionate display, but frowns when you scold him for disturbing your conversation. It doesn't matter, he still won and now your attention is on him instead :)

- lovesick!gojo who loves sharing sweets with you. Whenever he bought pastries from your favourite bakery he will always get extra to share with you. He especially loved seeing your face light up whenever he mentioned getting your favourite pastry.

- lovesick!gojo who gets surprised when you always return the favor, always sharing baked goods you bought, even getting the extra sweet ones just for him.

- lovesick!gojo who's ears turn red at the thought of you buying something just for him, no one else.

- lovesick!gojo who swears he will marry you one day, no matter the circumstance, not even the higher ups would stop him. All he need is to ask you out first, but seeing you chuckle as you two shared a chocolate cake, he thought staying by your side is good enough for now. After all, he's not getting cured from this sickness anytime soon.

he's so 🥺❤️😍🥺🤗😚❤️😳🥰❤️ to me

#jujutsu kaisen #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #lovesick gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #gojo brainrot #hes so #screaming #look at him #he is so silly #my baby #gege bring him back pls 🥺 #jjk x reader #jjk x you

[shokami]

friendly reminder that I am in love with Lucifer Morningstar. I want to hold his hand, and give him a kith. everything about him >>>>

#lovesick puppy noises #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader

[mingyuonlyfans]

mingyu would do just about anything for you. scratch that — mingyu will do absolutely anything and everything for you. his friends sometimes worry he's obsessed; a simp, they joke sometimes, but there's an underlying concern in their jesting. he'd travel to the ends of the earth for you, even on hands and knees if you told him to. he's possessed, they think, as they watch him dote on you, answer your every beck and call.

you call it devotion. from the way he lovingly cooks your shared meals and massages your feet after a long day to how he worships your body. it's almost religious, the way he takes care of you.

of course sometimes you worry it's too much, that you're asking for too much of him (you never have to ask) and that all this care for you is working him raw (he'd bleed for you if that's what you needed). mingyu reassures you when those thoughts start getting a little too loud for your comfort.

"it's how i show my love for you, darling." he whispers into the crown of your head as he holds you, tight and warm in only the way mingyu could be. "i'd do more if i could."

#i looooovvveeee lovesick pathetic simp obsessive devoted gyu sorrryyyy #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu smut #mingyu scenarios #mingyu drabbles #mingyu imagines #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #liv.🎀.docx

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

planning smthn,,

(and by planning i mean i have one(1) page sketched out at all even a little bit period)

but stay tuned,, for a tale of some emotionally unwell robots and their struggle to be normal abt it every time you leave for more than five minutes <3

#abandonment issues #tw toxic behavior #clingy #lovesick #fnaf au #fnaf comic #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf sun x y/n #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf moon x y/n #sketch #doodle #lonely boyos #they just love- LIKE u a lot and dont want u to Leave </3 :( #gaslight gatekeep girlboss au #tw gaslighting #this comic is gonna b a little on the uhhhh Bad side btw #so uh. warning lol hhfhf #bones of a rabbit #bones of a rabbit au #bones of a rabbit comic #babbit makes a comic #ideas #fic ideas #ALSO I AM WORKING ON FICS OKAY #IM STRUGGLING ON MAIN IM SORRY

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Gym Buddy⭐️

Premise: You made a new friend at the gym, and he is determined to make sure you get a good pump.

Warning: Non-con, fem reader

Minors DNI

Working out with you is almost too much. You're cute, smaller body is too much. The way you look up at him and thank him when he takes the weight off you when you push your body to failure. The way you whimper when you can't do one more rep. He first saw you looking at a machine for biceps and you seemed ok, but your form could be a bit better so he decided he'd help you by correcting it.

The next time he saw you, you were trying a bicep workout, but you were lifting too heavy and it was messing up your form. Proper form is essential to any excersize and without it, you could risk pulling a muscle. He couldnt just stand by and let you do that so he became your gym buddy whenever he spotted you.

You always look so nervous when he talks to you. You can't even maintain eye contact, but when you do, you look up at him and smile sheepishly. It warms his heart. You thanked him for helping you with your workout and walked on your mary way.

He smiled and continued on with his until he saw you patiently waiting for him to finish his set from the corner of his eye. You're blushing all cute and averting eyes again. He takes out his earbud and looks over at you. "I-I feel like I didn't properly thank you before so thank you again. I really appreciate your help," You say, becoming cherry red by the end.

He wants to just pick you up and take you home. You're like a cute little bunny. He's a respectful guy so he's only ever looked at your body in the places he needs to for your form, but he'd be lying if he said they never drifted to other places. From your sweet-looking neck to the curve of your back, all the way down to your cute butt.

The way your workout clothes fit your body so tight in all the right places. He wonders if you want the attention. When you wear crop tops...or when he's lucky and you wear your super short shorts. The ones that barely cover your...He shakes his head. He can't get hard in the gym again. "No problem. You're very polite, you know," He says. You knod your head in thanks.

You scamper off to go do cute girl things, probably. He hopes you don't have a boyfriend. Actually, theres no way you do. No man would let a girl like you out of their site. Especially in a testosterone filled gym. And talk to other guys? No way. If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be fighting him right now.

If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be laying on the ground, broken and defeated, bleeding from every orifice. He clenches his fists, his veins protruding. He'd lay the bastard the fuck out without a second of hesitation. No mercy and no reasoning. He finishes his workout with more vigour than usual.

The next time he spotted you at the gym, he saw some guy about to walk up to you. They're like fucking flies. This is the third one this week. He speeds up his pace and gets to you first before the fly could get its chance. The other guy turns tail immediately, confusing you because it looked like he'd wanted to talk to you.

"Hey, nice to see you again," he says, smiling that usual charming smile. 'The ladies probably go nuts for this guy,' you thought. "Nice to see you too!" Your voice is so sweet. It's like honey. He's memorized the texture of your sound. "Your arms look really good," you say, your face completely red. That came out of nowhere. He wonders how long you've been working up the courage to say that to him. He chuckles and flexes. "Thank you, I'm very proud of them."

He swears he could eat you up. Just the way you look at his body, whether it be in admiration or otherwise, it's all the same to him. "Do you want to get protein shakes after this? I can make them really tasty." You're going. Whether you like it or not.

"Oh..uhm, you don't have to! I don't know much bout protein anyway," you say nervously. Bingo. "Protein is incredibly important for helping you repair your muscles after you work hard at the gym!" He knows he's gonna convince you.

"O-oh, really? I didn't know that. If it's that important, ok then." You look off to the side, unsure about going to a mans house. He's feeling cuteness aggression. He wants to hug you and squeeze you so badly. His hands twitch, fighting the urdge to do so. He has to look away when you're doing a tough workout.

Watching sweat drip down your face is captivating. He imagines that face when he's alone in his apartment at night, his cock in hand. He just wants to lay you down on your back with him in between your legs...his thoughts wander too much. "Great, you'll love it!" He could'nt be more pleased with himself.

After you both finished, he waits for you outside the changing room. He was so giddy. He loves looking down at you..and seeing your cute little wonderous eyes looking up at him, like a confused little bunny. He takes your hand and leads you out to his car. You blush furiously at the contact. You get in the passenger seat and he drives you back to his place.

It's a really nice and expensive looking apartment building. Modern and well kept. It even has a gym inside. You wonder why he travels to yours. He takes you up to his apartment and you gasp. "It's so big!" He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining those words in a different context. "I'm excited to try the protein shake," you say, snapping him out of his fuzzy daze.

"Ah yes." He takes you over to his spottless kitchen and takes out a blender, some bananas, protein powder, peanut butter and milk. You lean over the counter to peer at what he's doing. Hes really good at making protein shakes. You wonder if he can cook aswell. You wouldn't be surprised. While you're lost in though, he has the perfect view of your cleavage. He bites his lip. Fuck. He feels his dick twitch to life.

He groans. He's been trying not to get hard this whole day. Good thing you're behind the counter. He pours the smoothies into two cups, his being larger because you dont need as much protein as he does. He manages to hide is boner well enough to make his way over to his living room with your cups.

He hands you yours after taking a seat, making sure to place a pillow in his lap. You take a sip. He loves the way your mouth opens and the way you lick your lips of the sweet drink. Fuck. He downs his and watches you. "Hey, so I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to hang out..outside the gym again sometime?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Oh..uh," you thought he wasn't interested in you! You were sure of it! He's too handsome for you! He's way out of your league. You've never been romanticaaly interested in him. You know your place. You just get really nervous and shy around pretty people. He's an extremely athletic man and you're a snail in comparrison! You're not even looking for a relationship right now! This is a nightmare! You just wanted to focus on yourself. That's why you started going to the gym.

Oh god, what do you do!? You stare at your drink for a while, the silence thickening by the second. "I...uh...." You want to go home and hide under your sheets. How will you ever face him again? It's over. No more gym buddy. He looks down at you, his smile and hopeful eyes fading. You... don't want him. You don't want him!? But...he's perfect for you...and you for him!

He doesn't understand why you could possibly ever not want to be with him. He wordlessly puts his cup down. You just need some convincing is all. You look up at him. He can see emotions swirling around in your eyes. He stands up to his full height, casting a shadow over you. "(Y/n),... change your mind." His tone is eerily calm.

"But...I wanna focus on.. myself-" He cuts you off. "No! I will focus on you. That's what you need. I will take care of you. I'm dedicated to you. It has to be claer by now that I want you." He takes the cup from your hands and sets it down before pulling you up by your arm and forcing you deeper into the apartment.

"Huh? What? N-no, where are we going? Stop! I wanna go home!" You cry, trying to struggle out of his grip, the grip of the arms four times the size of yours. You notice now just how big he is. Hes...massive. Taller than most men...broad shoulders, a large frame, and incredibly muscular. Your face pails. You... can't stop him. You were right to be nervous to come here!

He drags you into his room, making you sit on his bed. He doesn't open the lights, but from the moonlight shining in from the window, you can see the glinting of his hungry eyes looking down at you. His chest heaves. He feels fuzzy and lightheaded as he looks down at you...all his blood...has shot right down to his cock.

He can't think of anything but the way your thighs meet at that special crevice that he wants to explore. You're probably still sweaty from the workout... he's trembling at the thought of your soft body pressed against his toned self.

He pushes your upper body down a bit too hard and splits your legs apart, settling himself between them before leaning down. Your faces so close. You turn your face away, which just makes him get even closer to you, his nose touching your cheek, his breath fanning over you. With him in between your legs, you can feel the heat emanating from his crotch as it presses into yours. You whimper under him and he groans a bit. His cock has never been so engored before. Its unbarable.

"Please...take off your clothes...I don't want to hurt you on accident," he breathes, using all the remaining blood in his head to think straight, trying to control himself. You shake your head. "I-I can't!" Not a second after you speak, his hands grip your poor clothes and rip them to shreds like paper. He's wanted to do that to your workout clothes for a long time. They were always taunting him with the way they squeeze your ass or the way your pussy shows through the crotch area a bit when you're bent.

You suck in a breath to scream, hoping one of his neighbors would hear you, but he covers your mouth with his palm just in time, muffling your cry. "Shhh shhh... it's ok shh. I've got you," he coos, trying to calm you. Your chest heaves up and down as tears stream down your cheeks. Your face feels like its burning.

He replaces his hand with his lips and kisses you gently. You continue sobbing quietly into the kiss, not wanting any of this. He doesn't cover your mouth after he lifts his lips from yours. Hope for getting another opportunity dies within you as he stuffs your underwear into your mouth and ties it shut with the drawstring of his shorts tightly behind your head.

He kisses your cheek and stays right there for a moment, just breathing in your scent. You decide now is a good time to at least try fighting him with everything you've got. You headbutt him in the face, sending his head back a bit. He grunts in pain and looks back at you with a blaze in his eyes. A trickle of blood escapes his nose. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. He shuts his eyes for a second, trying to maintain his patience. He sighs. He's trying his hardest to be nice with you.

He places a finger on your chin, turning you to face him. When you refuse to face him and turn your head in defiance, he grips your cheeks roughly and forces you to face him. His eyes are stern. "Bunny, I don't want to hurt you." Is all he says. You dont take his threat lightly. He looks more than happy to actually hurt you. You don't believe for a second that he's being honest about not wanting to hurt you.

He lowers his shorts with his free hand, taking your silence as compliance. You see the bulge in his shorts reveal itself to be a monstrous size when free. It's..scary. It slams against your bare pussy lips. It's heavy, thick and demanding attention. It's veiny underside is burning you.

You swallow hard, trying to wiggle out from underneath it. You don't make it far trapped beneath him with nowhere to go. Your hands are free, but every time you try to do anything, he swats them away and.. after his previous threat, you don't want to know what will happen if you annoy him enough.

His hand comes down to your cunt and plays with your lower lips. He releases your face, knowing you'll behave. You writhe underneath him, pathetically kicking and pushing at his hand down there. His other hand grabs your wrist and and squeezes it and a painful grip, looking dead in your eyes as he continues to play with your cunt.

Another tear slips down your cheek. He softens his grip a bit before leaning down to kiss your tears away. Your tear-stained face, the way you whimper and your face scrunches in discomfort..is doing things to him. He's learned something new about himself just now. He wants to be inside you so bad, but he knows he'd tear you in two, even with all his precum.

Your gasp as he flicks your sensitive pearl. He can't help but chuckle. Without any warning, he slips his index finger inside your cunt and relishes in the warm wetness hugging it tightly. He just wants you wet enough to take him without too much pain. He just needs to be more patient, but... it's so hard with you making all those cute expressions.

"Pleath shtop..I..." The muffled words you were trying to produce disappear in a cloud of smoke as he curls his finger upwards into your spongy walls. Fuck. He loves when you beg him to stop. You moan so cutely. Your pussy twitches around him. He bites his lip. You're.. wet enough. It's fine, it'll fit. He can't wait anymore.

He lines his fat cock up with your cunt and slides it up and down your shimmering folds. "W-wai-" He cuts you off by sliding the head of his cock in. It's so fucking tight. He grunts and can't help but sink himself further in. He feels like he's going mad.

He bucks his hips forward, meeting resistance. Your cervix. He pushes forward still, eventually managing to bottom out, the shape of his cock making an appearance in your lower stomach. Your cunt needs to know his shape for next time. It's a good thing he stuffed your mouth because you've been screaming and crying like crazy. "I'm sorry, bunny. I didn't mean to hurt you. I got a bit ahead of myself. I'll be more gentle." He kisses your nose, his cock driving in and out slowly.

You're sopping wet now, the two of you can hear your insides gushing when he pushes in. You're so embarrassed. The pleasure is undeniable. You scratch his back as he pressed in again, his hips meeting yours snuggly. You can't hold it anymore! you let out a long whine as you cum, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He moans, driving his cock in and out, rapidly pounding your cunt into a fine paste. You come down from your high as he's still churning your insides and cry out again. You're too sensitive now!

You tap on his shoulder, but it garners no response. He lifts your legs and presses them back into your chest, getting even deeper. He's pounding into you like a wild animal. You feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten. Your nails dig into his back, your eyes crossing as you come again. He grunts as you tighten around him once more.

He thrusts into you so deep that you can see the imprint of his cock in your lower stomach even more than before. Your cervix needs an ice pack. He grips your waist, emptying the largest load he's ever cum. You're so tired. He continues pumping himself into you lazily. He rests his body weight on you, squishing you and pressing his still-hard cock against your stuffed insides.

Cum leeks past his cock onto the damp bedsheets. He pants, looking down at you. "I love you (y/n)," he says with the most love struck expression you've ever seen. You look like an angel to him. All you can do is twitch and bask in the afterglow of what he did. His cock began to completely re-harden at the beautiful sight he created before him.

You're no longer gym buddies, that's for sure. Thanks to him, you might be parents. You should have just accepted his feelings when you had the chance. Now your guts are filled and you're trapped under him with your knees by your head. What a workout.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #gym buddies #lovesick

[lilyacorn]

YANDERE DELINQUENT X GN! TUTOR! READER

YANDERE DELINQUENT

This one is a long one! Not super yandere but it will be in part 2 if u want! Its just fluff now!

Yandere delinquent- who’s always into fights but in the end, always gets more beaten up than the losing opponent. The student who’s always scolded by teachers but… his eyes are always somewhere else. Hehe you-

Yandere delinquent- his grades would drastically improved if he listened but how could he if there was a particular pretty student who sat beside him.

Yandere delinquent- who tried to talk normally and be friends. But whenever you look at him with those eyes and the way you anticipated his words! Ugh! Stop being so mf cute-

Yandere delinquent- who’d be taught by a tutor just to raise his grades during finals week! He was annoyed but at least it was something.

Yandere delinquent- who was completely quiet and weirdly red in the cheeks during your tutoring sessions with him. “…holy fuckin- theyre my tutor-“

yandere delinquent- who at the end of the session expected you to quit as his tutor but you waited. Hell, even if he answered with the most stupid responses at least he worked hard? He says stupid shit now so that you could explain more making the session last longer-

Yandere delinquent- who’s eyes would light up and if he had a tail, it’d be wagging like crazy! Praise me more… please?

Yandere delinquent- who dresses up nicely during sessions to AT LEAST check if you were interested. He’d daydream all those scenarios all the time

“…if I looked more like their type… they’d like me right?”

Yandere delinquent- who stopped having fights because he didn’t want to have bruises all over his face making him ugly! “…they wouldn’t date a guy who always fights… right?”

Yandere delinquent- who’d save up his allowance instead of spending it on cigarettes just so that he could buy gifts for you if you ever become his lover… delulu mf-

Yandere delinquent- who was over the moon when you smiled and complimented his shirt for once- he wore that shirt and brand every session- “ hehe… they complimented me…”

Yandere delinquent- who’d study more on his own to answer properly so that he’d seem like a hardworking future boyfriend guy to you.

Yandere delinquent- who’d make sure that you’d at least kiss him in his life. He doesn’t mind fighting his way through your heart and studying hard just so that he’d finally become yours. “Love me…”

Btw guys part 2 is already been out for a long time soo go check it out!

#yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #yandere aesthetic #yanderecore #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere #lovecore #lovesick #crazy in love

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Limerence (Prequel)

Yandere Rebellion Leader x Princess Reader

TW: Yandere behaviors, mentions of past SA (on yandere’s part), murder, death, blood, a man slaughtering your entire family to be with you, etc

(Your name) quietly sobbed into her knees, her body curled tightly into a ball on the floor of her closet. The loud screams of the servants ring out through the hallways. Not a single doubt in her mind that the castle staff were being slain like cattle by the rebel troops.

When did everything go wrong? Would she soon join the rest of the castle’s inhabitants when the troops inevitably found her? Would they be merciful or would they gut her like a fish?

(Your name) didn’t want to think about it too much… she just hoped her death would be quick and painless.

Crack! Slam! Her door was splintered apart with brute force that made the closet doors shake. (Your name) quickly covered her mouth before she screamed out in fear. She didn’t want to alert the intruder of her whereabouts…

(Your name)’s breath hitched when she spotted a pair of leather shoes that stood outside the closet door through the crack of the door. Oh god… this was it.

(Your name)’s arms flew up to shield her face but strong hands quickly moved her arms out of the way so soft lips could be lovingly pressed against her soft cheeks.

“It’s okay… it’s me.” A smooth voice hummed softly while he continued to pepper (your name)’s face in kisses. “It’s Adonis.”

(Your name) reluctantly peeked her eyes open to see if his words rang true. Adonis’s chocolate curls were wild and his sea foam green eyes were filled with admiration. This was indeed her handsome childhood friend who stood before her.

“A-Adonis?” (Your name)’s brow furrowed in confusion. Why on earth was her stepmother’s personal servant here and why did he press kisses all over her like she was his lover? Didn’t he belong to her stepmother?

Adonis hummed in reply, his actions failed to cease while his hands now cupped her cheeks. “Yes, darling. It’s me… I’m here to get you out of here.”

(Your name) was shocked to be pulled into a warm embrace. Adonis’s muscular body did little to soothe her nerves, quite contrary. Adonis’s hug felt like a cage.

“Where’s my stepmother-“ (your name) nearly squealed when Adonis nipped at her neck. An angry red mark now visible on her smooth skin. “Adonis, what was that for-“

“She’s not in the picture anymore.” Adonis inhaled deeply to try to calm himself before he lashed out any further from the mention of his despicable mistress. “She interfered in our relationship for far too long.”

Relationship? What was Adonis talking about?

“Adonis?” (Your name) then noticed the speckles of blood that covered his tan face in shock. Blood?! Adonis wasn’t bleeding so whose blood could that be… no. Did this mean Adonis betrayed the royal family?

No… Adonis had been with her family for over a decade. They grew up together! Adonis and her were always such good friends! So why would he slaughter her family in the name of love?

“I love when you say my name, darling.” Adonis bent down and pressed his full lips against yours in a tender peck. “We no longer have to worry about what others think. I abolished this unfair system.”

(Your name) felt tears run down her face as Adonis continued to ramble. His sea foam green eyes lit up with madness. “We don’t have to sneak around anymore! You and I can finally be together, the way we were always meant to be.”

Realization sunk into (your name) at Adonis’s words. Did he mean the moments the two of them would run into each other in the rose garden at night? The nights where she’d have nightmares of fire and death while he would be slipping out of her stepmother’s chambers? The times she’d sit beside him on the bench and listen to each other’s woes? Adonis and (your name) always had a friendship since they were children… to think he interpreted her kindness for love was astounding. What on earth made him think she loved him?

“I’m so happy to finally be free. I no longer have to touch that vile woman ever again.” Adonis gave you a bright smile. “You were my shining light through this entire ordeal of my servitude. Without you, I’d be so lost.”

Adonis pulled her towards the window of her tower to gesture to the various fires set ablaze on the castle she once called home. The same scenery she often saw in her nightmares have become a reality.

“I destroyed it all. You’ll no longer have nightmares and I’ll no longer have to be intimate with our enemy!” Adonis gave you a bright smile when he took your smaller hands in his large ones. “This is the biggest gesture I can give you to express my utmost feelings to you. I’d set the whole world ablaze if they opposed us. It doesn’t matter the extreme, because I’m willing to go to any length to be with you.”

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #original work #yandere obsession #limerence #lovesick #yandere imagines #yandere short story #thriller #yandere horror #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #protective yandere #yandere insert #Yandere slave #yandere fantasy #fantasy #delusional yandere #yandere childhood friend #yandere best friend #yandere idea #yandere scenarios #yandere concept

[fushisagi]

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

୨୧ ━━ ❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count ⋆ 12.6k (12,607) genre ⋆ fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! author’s note ⋆ ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

 “I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

“Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. “What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

© fushisagi, 2023. do not translate or plagiarize my works.

#atsumu #miya atsumu #hq #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #fic: miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Dilf

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ drugging, stalking, delusional, doing things without consent ( male yandere! oc x female reader ) Click to see part 2 !

It was a sunny afternoon when yandere! dilf finally finished unloading his and his son's stuff into their new home. Due to work and terrible memories from his past marriage, he moved into a different town with his son to start a new life. He was just beginning to unpack everything when someone knocked on his door.

"Hi! I'm your neighbor! I noticed that you were spending the whole day just unloading stuff so I decided to make you and your son some lemonade!"

The voice came from a woman who had a jug of lemonade on a tray with a couple of glass cups to pour the citrus drink into. Yandere! dilf couldn't help but smile at the offer as his muscular hands take the tray from your hands as he sent a pearly white smile their way.

"Thanks! I really appreciate it. I'm yandere! dilf by the way," he introduced himself while his son hides behind his leg "and this is my son."

"I'm (y/n)! Well then, I'll see you around neighbor!" (y/n) then disappeared back into their house which was right beside his. At first, yandere! dilf thought that he liked them because of their kind gift but it was only going to escalate from there.

It really surprised yandere! dilf a few days when he met (y/n) again only in the most unexpected place. He was picking his son up from kindergarten when he realized that you were there, playing with his son.

"(y/n)? What are you doing here?"

"Oh! This is really such a coincidence! I happen to be your son's kindergarten teacher!" she explained with a bright smile on her face as his son came rushing to hug him.

"I was only playing with him since all the kids left already and I didn't want him to be alone for too long"

Yandere! dilf felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry about that. I've just been swamped with work and before I knew it, I was 2 hours late to pick him up."

You sent the muscular man a sympathetic smile.

"No, I completely understand... Does this mean that he's with babysitters most of the time?"

"That's what My plan is but well... it seems like I'm finding difficulty finding any babysitters in this neighborhood"

"If you'd like, I can babysit your son on the weekends? I happen to need some extra money but, don't worry, I won't charge a crazy amount. We're neighbors after all," she offered.

Ever since (y/n) offered yandere! dilf to be his son's babysitter, he only began seeing more and more of you inside his house. Yandere! dilf only expected you to take care of his son but you always seemed to go above and beyond. Sometimes, if the house was messy you'd try to clean it as best you could. Or maybe when you knew that he'll be home late, you'd prepare a simple dinner for both his son and him.

"Don't worry about it! Being a single parent must be really hard so I'll try to help you as best as I can!" That was always the kind of answer you would give when yandere! dilf feels bad for having you do all the housework.

Slowly though, yandere! dilf can't help but feel like (y/n) was acting just like a stay-at-home wife for him and he liked it. He can't help but daydream of situations where you were actually his wife. Situations where he was sharing a bed with you or taking you out on dates or sometimes to the extent of either their marriage or what their future children would look like.

Yandere! dilf might not look like it but, he was completely smitten. He was scared however of you finding out that he had a fat massive crush on you since he was at least 7 years older than you. This crush caused him to be obsessive and overprotective of you.

"What if she finds someone better? What if she is seeing someone?" Those were the questions that always made him have a small panic attack. He can't afford to lose someone so perfect; someone, who proved herself to be the perfect wife for him.

So, yandere! dilf would set up cameras in his house and ask you to babysit all the time. This would mean that he could always see you playing with his son through his phone and it always makes his heart swell with joy. He loved seeing how well you were getting along with the most precious little human in his world which only boosts the idea of how you were the only perfect person to be his son's mother and his wife. Not only that, but to take it one step further, he loved to buy you some treats or drinks when he gets back from work. The only catch is that they were drugged so you'd always end up falling asleep in yandere! dilf's house. (Y/n) never found it too odd though since you always connected it to you being too exhausted by playing with yandere! dilf's son all day.

(Y/n) falling asleep in his house was a big win for yandere! dilf too. The drugs that he used would make (y/n) fall into such a deep sleep it would actually be impossible to wake you up. This would mean that he can take as many pictures as he can and make you sleep on the bed with him before he has to move you to a spare room before you wake up to avoid suspicion. He loves it when he gets to snuggle your smaller body on his bed; a bigger plus if his son decides to join in. It was as if you three were already a picture-perfect family that yandere!dilf always dreamed of. His phone gallery is now filled to the brim with pictures of his son and you. His phone wallpaper is (y/n), there was a group picture of (y/n), his son and him set as his computer wallpaper, and there was a picture of (y/n) and his son in his wallet; acting like the perfect family he always dreamed of.

"Oh, good morning (y/n)! You fell asleep here again. Don't worry about it though! Here I made us all breakfast!"

#tw: stalking #tw: yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #lovesick #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #obsession #obsessive love #yandere blog #obsessive yandere #yandere drabble