Put A Ring On It.

put a ring on it.

premise. snippets of daily life between a humble servant and an increasingly clingy master.

word count. 5.4k

note. reader full of snark + dumbass in love ayato = gratuitous amount of banter. i have to say that ayato never goes out of line though, and you're not actually bothered by his advances; you're just a massive tsundere.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

“Is that so?”

The noncommittal response pointedly marks the end of his acknowledgement as Ayato makes no effort to sit up, remaining slumped against your frame. His head rests upon your shoulder, a ticklish sensation blooming where your neck and chin meet. Light blue hair trail prickling heat where it grazes your skin, an itch you can't quite scratch away.

Even so, the discomfort doesn't reflect on your face, frigid expression carefully layered with blankness. His sinking weight fails to impede your immaculate posture, refined poise a great disparity from his leisurely disposition. It paints an odd picture, the ordinarily faultless heir lacking decorum—though granted the freedom to do as he wishes in the private confines of his room, it is a mystery why a servant such as you is... graciously permitted to bask in his exclusive company. In the private confines of his room. You feel the need to emphasize that detail.

In his hands lay a scroll concerning governmental affairs, urgent matters that demand his attention, so you can't begin to comprehend why he insists on using this time to harass reward a lowly attendant with his valuable presence when there is business to attend to.

He leans more of his weight to your side, and he—you nearly sputter indignantly—mimics an action that can almost be described as nuzzling. “Mhm. This is convenient for me, since I've hardly found the time to rest today. Do you find it intolerable?”

Ignoring the last bit, you advise, “Perhaps it would be more effective if you were to rest in your chambers. I will come call when the Kanjou Commission asks for you.”

He pretends to consider it for a moment, the silence filled with the quiet jingle of wind chimes. But predictably, the corners of his mouth hook up to an impish smile. “I would prefer to stay, if you don't mind?”

Resigned to your fate, you can only say, “Of course not, my lord.”

For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, an assortment of exquisite wagashi produced only by the best. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to accept his gifts with gratitude!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid. It was only a matter of time.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the responsibility to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would certainly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'll say next.)

You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lays on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

At least she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. Small mercies. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma has already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insists on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito candy in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It isn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” You scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing torrents that freeze in displeasure yet inexplicably gentle the moment they meet your eyes, akin to gentle sea waves that pad to your feet.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You haven't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the supplies being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces slightly. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You have only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you begin to doubt the calendar. There is no way it's only been a single week.

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” is your dry answer.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he's been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip, and also presumably when he bought the ring for you. Recently, you've taken to pondering over the specifics; did he commission it beforehand? But how would he have known for certain you'd be visiting the store that day to give it to you later that afternoon? You were only planning to get groceries... Unless he was planning to give it another time? If so, in what occasion did he want to present it as a gift? What prompted him to give it to you earlier? ...Did he see your longing gaze on the jewelry?!

No, no, no, you made sure none of that showed on your face... Did he mean to give it to you that day? He somehow predicted you'd cave to his whims and show him around town? Then when you were gone, he retrieved the ring he commissioned, hitting two birds with one stone in a single trip?

...Knowing your sly lord, the idea isn't so far-fetched to be unbelievable...

To this day, you have yet to solve the mystery. But Thoma doesn't need to know your current musings. You shake your head. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring has been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” You fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope.” He laughs even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniff in response and brush him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand close by. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before dutifully offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician, the saddened expression gone like a mirage.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the folding screens obscuring the orange glow of the evening. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” Your brows knit together, and he kisses the tiny furrow away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” You murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where they lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers.” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

Not yet anyway, he doesn't say.

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” You purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

“Too bad you're stuck with me forever, huh?”

More Posts from Hazyspells and Others

hazyspells

2 years ago

cw. gn!reader, flighty!reader, reader works in forensics, prohero!katsuki, aged up (around mid 20s)

a/n. this was fun to write lmao. this is definitely not self-indulgent :0 again, would surely appreciate reblogs and comments <3

You’re a runner.

And no, not in the dystopian, getting-out-of-a-manmade-maze sense.

You run from feelings.

And that happens to include the kind when someone gets a little bit too close for comfort.

But you also do run in the literal sense.

In fact, you just did.

Panting, you round the next corner of your office building’s hallway, what was once a sprint (at least, the type that was possible in a crowded skyscraper in Tokyō) now faltering into a light jog.

Huffing, you chance a peek behind your shoulder, a sigh wracking your body when you conclude that the man of the hour is finally out of sight.

“What’s up with you?”

The man’s red-headed best friend quirks an amused eyebrow at you when you halt at the sound, startled.

He slows down in his steps as he appraises the mess that you currently are; from the looks of it, he’s heading in the direction you’re desperately trying to run away from, and for a split second, you’re half your mind to drag him with you to the elevator and vanish before the man could spot the both of you.

Why the fuck are you acting like this?

“I—Was just wanting to—” At this point, you’re severely out of breath. And you’d chalk it up to the physical exertion you definitely aren’t used to, but you know it’s more than that.

The warmth of your cheeks seems to suggest that, too.

“Hold up.”

You look up at Kirishima, one hand still on your hip to help keep you upright despite the exhaustion.

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with Bakubro?”

Even just the mention of his name triggers your fight-or-flight response.

It also happens to send a flood of longing right through you.

“Yeah,” you rasp, before checking over your shoulder again. Coast: still clear.

“What are you—” Kirishima starts, eyebrows pinched in confusion, before what looks like realization and amusement flash across his features.

“Did he—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off before he could say it.

Apparently, being confessed to out of the blue by the man you’ve been in love with for a year cuts your sentence-formation capabilities to not more than one worded ones at a time.

Just as you expected, worry dances its way across Kirishima’s face.

“Are you running away from him?”

You choke on your spit.

“Hey, easy, Y/N,” Kirishima says while awkwardly rubbing your back as you cough your lungs out.

You stand upright when you finally gather your bearings, ready to explain, or attempt to explain to Kirishima (but more to yourself) why you just fled the meeting room where you and Bakugou were discussing the forensics of his new case.

It’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

The feelings, not the outright confession.

Midoriya, Kirishima, and his other friends have made it pretty obvious with their background teasing that the emotionally constipated blonde has taken a particular interest in you.

(Background because the aforementioned blonde would indubitably kill them if he found out they were teasing you, let alone about him.)

You just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it and hell—start to hope—until a while ago, when the Bakugou Katsuki himself slammed his fist on the table, spitting out the three words you’ve been dreaming to hear from him since you first worked on that gory ass mission together.

Well, four. If you count the curse slotted among the ‘I like you’.

But as it turns out, the reality of it all—Bakugou’s vulnerability, mutual feelings, and possibly dating a Pro Hero—scared you.

And so you ran.

And you were about to confess all this to poor Kirishima when a booming voice echoes through the hallway, effectively triggering your (definitely) flight response once more.

At that, you bolt to the elevators, leaving behind a speechless Kirishima.

Luckily for you, Bakugou has always been good at chasing what he wants.

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hazyspells

3 months ago

that one tiktok trend 🌚

i was debating between jack or sebek and then my friend was like: “honestly why not silver? he’d fall for it tbh”

she was so right so i did it

(sorry i render myself very lazily, all the focus goes into the boys ^^)

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hazyspells

3 years ago

[04:53] - KUROO TETSUROU– masterlist

the day tetsurou married you, was undoubtedly the best day of his life, a little scary and very nerve wracking, but a day he’ll never forget.

he’ll never forget waiting for you, anxiously at the alter, fidgeting in his shoes. he’d glance at kenma, his best man, every few seconds, thinking you’d ran away and changed your mind last minute. kenma only looked back at him with an exasperated look on his face. there was no way you’d leave. if there was anything kenma was certain of, it’s the look of adoration and love pooling in your eyes when someone mentions tetsurou, despite your protests of him being an annoying little shit.

he’ll never forget finally hearing the music start and seeing you walk down the aisle, looking like a complete angel, all dressed in white. even through his blurry teary eyes tetsurou could make out the blinding smile on your face and his lips wobbled, thinking about how lucky he was to be given the blessing of marrying you.

he’ll never forget exchanging your vows, being able to stare into your glassy eyes while declaring his love for you to the whole world. he’d promised to be with you no matter what, through thick and thin and in sickness and health.

the first kiss you’d share with tetsu, as his wife, was something engraved into his brain, playing on repeat. he’d never forget shivering at the feeling of cold metal, pressing against his skin and you held his face, lips locking in a loving embrace. he kisses you with the same amount of passion and ardour now as he did back then.

but looking at the tiny bundle of joy delicately placed in your arms, tetsurou thinks your wedding day has finally met its match. your wedding was magical, but seeing the physical manifestation of your love, sleeping peacefully in your arms, makes him feel even more complete and fulfilled.

he softly gazes at both of his princesses, pressing kisses to both of your foreheads. seeing his newborn smile in her sleep at his touch and you looking up at him with nothing but love in your eyes, causes his heart to swell and double in size.

he thinks to himself after you pulling you in for a sweet kiss, that this, the day your daughter was born, seeing you hold her with such tenderness and care, is now, undoubtedly, the best day of his life.

Tags

oh well CON 😭 GRA 😭 ULA 😭 TIONS ah for a relationship like that can't imagine it for me tho :) bc i'm sad and single this was a masterpiece tho our lil daughter 😭

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hazyspells

3 years ago

Tags

NAH FR when are we gon use it not now thats for sure

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hazyspells

1 year ago

I've got an atsumuxreader request where they are in a secret relationship but it starts getting to the point where they have little to no interaction in public. making her feel insecure and she starts wondering if he even loves her anymore, when girls start flirting with him and his teammates ask him about any girls he might be interested in and he doesn't hint at being in a relationship at all. I'm a sucker for angst to fluff!!

Thank youuuuu!! ❤️❤️

Of course, one Atsumu x Reader coming right up!(:

Atsumu was destined to be great.

If there was anything to be sure of, it was just that. Growing up with him had shown you on more than one occasion that if that boy had his eyes set on something, that he was going to achieve it. It didn't matter what it cost him, he was incredibly headstrong.

So when he approached you on a hazy morning in early December, hands trembling in a way you'd never seen before, words tumbling from his mouth so fast you could hardly understand a thing he'd said, it had shocked you. Long gone was the Atsumu that puffed his chest out every time someone complimented his skills. Long gone, was the Atsumu that didn't so much as get the nervous sweats before volleyball matches in front of scouts.

"I'm sorry, Tsumu," You start, heart pounding wildly against your ribs, "I'm not quite sure I caught that."

He visibly shudders, unable to hold eye contact as he says almost desperately, "I'd really like to take ya on a date. Please. Let me take ya on a date?"

He says it slowly, accent dripping from his mouth like molasses. He rakes a hand through his murky hair, fingers shaking so hard you almost consider asking him if he needs to sit down and just breathe.

He almost loses hope when you don't immediately answer his question, but then he looks up at you, and your mouth forms the words, yes 'Tsum, I'd love that, and his whole world tilts on its axis.

Your friendship had always been a close one. Your friends had never batted an eye at the way your head would slowly find its rest against one of his broad shoulders during movie nights, nor the way you'd wear his hoodies.

So when the shift happens, no one notices. Not even Suna, the perceptive guy he was. You both decided that maybe it was for the best, if you kept your relationship from everyone until you could figure out a good way to break the news.

It wasn't that you really thought your friends would be upset, it was just that it was all so new, and as much as you hoped it wouldn't happen, if you decided to breakup, neither of you wanted to cause rifts in the friend group.

You go on for two months like that, hiding your relationship behind the guise of your already close friendship. It isn't a terrible feat, besides the fact that 99% of the time, your boyfriends literal other half is around, making it difficult to spend any time together. But then you started looking forward to little things, like the winks Atsumu'd send you in passing at school, or his foot nudging yours beneath the desk in math class. You grew tired of watching your friends freely hug and kiss their boyfriends. You grew tired of pretending to cheer on Atsumu as a friend and not as your boyfriend.

Over time, it began to feel like you weren't really dating him anymore.

It didn't hit its breaking point until you were eating at your favorite ramen shop with the twins, Suna, and Ginjima. You feel like your heart might burst from your chest when Ginjima excitedly asks Atsumu about a girl who had been flirting with him after practice earlier in the day.

You eye him carefully, gauging his reaction. It's not that you didn't trust him, it's just the absolute lack of anything between the two of you had gotten to your head. You feel sick to your stomach when he blushes.

"Ah yeah," Your boyfriend finally says, "She was nice an' all but I'm not looking for a relationship or anything at the moment. Volleyball's the most important thing to me right now. Can't let some girl cloud my judgement, y'know? Can't take my eyes off the prize just yet-"

You shove your stool back, wincing when it clatters to the ground, catching the attention of every person in the small ramen shop.

"Woah," Suna breaks the silence, "Y/n, are you good?"

You take a deep breath, embarrassment sending a chill up your spine. "Yeah, um, sorry, I just don't feel very well. Think I ate something bad. I'll see you guys tomorrow, 'kay?"

You grab your backpack off of the ground, slinging it around your shoulders before taking off for the exit.

"Wait up," Atsumu says hurriedly, trying to catch up with you, "I'll walk ya home."

You shake your head, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other. "No thanks, I don't really think you should be around me. Might cloud your judgement or-"

"Y/n."

Atsumu grabs you by the back of the sleeve, yanking hard enough that you fall against him.

"Y/n," He says again. "I didn't mean that, angel. Ya had to have known I didn't mean that, right?"

You click your tongue, feeling mad at yourself when tears collect on your lash line.

You sigh dejectedly, "Atsumu, I love being your girlfriend..but lately it's like I'm not. I can't remember the last time you genuinely kissed me. I get that we wanted to keep this a secret, but I'm really starting to wish we never decided that because I want to be able to hold your hand and wear your jersey and I want you to be able to call me 'angel' in front of everyone. It just hurt that you said all of that. Whether you meant it or not. And I know it's dumb but hearing Ginjima talk about that girl flirting with you..it made me feel icky. I dunno-"

And for the second time in one night, Atsumu cuts you off.

"Baby," He breathes, gathering you into his arms. "I am so sorry. I don't want you to feel that way. I love you. I really do. I think I have since the day I found ya sitting on the sidewalk playing with worms after a rainstorm. All I've ever wanted to do is respect you and yer wishes, so if I'd known ya felt like this I wouldn't have been so closed off."

You press your face into his chest, breathing in the smell of his deodorant. "Can we stop being a secret, 'Tsumu? I'm sick of being secretive."

You feel him nod his head before his lips press against the top of your head. "Me too. It's hard to not be able to boast about my girl to all my friends. Did you know that she's the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on?"

"Is she?" You ask, heart in your throat.

"Yeah," He confirms, "And, don't tell her this, but sometimes I feel like my heart is reaching for hers. That's how in love with her I am."

You tilt your head back to look at him, nearly swooning when he whispers, "There she is. There's my beautiful girl."

Leaning up, you kiss him softly.

"Love you," You whisper, nudging your nose playfully against his.

"Who loves me?"

"I love you."

You can feel the way Atsumu grins before he returns the sentiment.

"I love ya, too, baby."

You take a deep breath, heels finding the ground as you suggest going back to the ramen shop to talk to the guys about your relationship.

"Ah," Atsumu says awkwardly, "Something tells me they already know."

You turn to find the Osamu, Suna, and Ginjima standing not far from you guys.

"How long have you been watching us?"

"Long enough to find out that you guys are together!" Ginjima says, accusation etched into his tone. Suna snorts, and nudges Osamu.

"Nah, we've known."

Ginjima raises his hand, "Hello? I didn't?"

Osamu deadpans, "No shit, Sherlock. Else you would've kept your big mouth shut and not upset the lady back there."

You're suddenly unsure of if you feel relieved that your relationship is out in the open or slightly afraid. Either way, all you know, is that you are loved, and for now, that is more than enough.

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hazyspells

3 years ago

[ ♡ ] bully

Tags

yes or say it with me lumiyato ayatolumi

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hazyspells

3 years ago

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST

angst/hurt [a] ; fluff/comfort [f] ; crack/humor [c] ; suggestive [s] ♡ personal faves

[ BACK TO MAIN ]

# KARASUNO

# NEKOMA

# AOBA JOHSAI

# FUKURODANI

# SHIRATORIZAWA

# INARIZAKI

# OTHER

Tags

via's recs ♡ the writing is immaculate

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hazyspells

1 year ago

date night

pairing: atsumu x f!reader

summary: atsumu forgets about date night :/

warnings: a lil sad but not too bad

word count 1.1k

notes: this was inspired by this audio lol

at first you thought that he was just running late––it happened sometimes, that's just how he was. but as you watched the time pass by ––ten minutes, then twenty... by the hour mark, you'd given up.

he forgot. he forgot about the date night that you both planned in advance, weeks ago. atsumu had been so busy for the past few months, you were so excited to just have one night to each other, one night to have him all to yourself.

you dressed up nice, putting on your fanciest, sexiest dress and heels, you took your time to get ready, knowing this was a special night, the first night you'd go out with your boyfriend in a while. and it didn't happen.

the reservation was an hour ago, and atsumu was two hours late. you were contemplating going to bed when the door burst open to reveal atsumu, panting, eyes frantic and apologetic. "baby fuck, i'm so sorry––" he practically ran towards you, throwing off his jacket and kicking off his shoes haphazardly.

he ran his hands through his hair, trying to give you a small smile but you wouldn't look at him, choosing to focus, or rather pretend to focus on the tv. "it completely slipped my mind honey, i promise i didn't mean to blow you off––not that that makes it better..."

he was met with silence and his shoulders sunk as he stepped towards you hesitantly, his feet dragging like a small child. "c'mon baby i would never do that to you on purpose, i mean...look at you, i––god i'm a fucking idiot."

you nodded subtly but he didn't comment on it, his eyes still trailing along your body. your dress fit you perfectly, it accentuated all your best features and your shoes––you rarely wore shoes like that, though they were sexy, he knew they also hurt like a bitch, so the fact that you wore those for him and he didn't even show up? he had a lot of making up to do.

"baby doll please look at me, let me see those gorgeous eyes so you can see how sorry i am." he cursed quietly to himself, looking around for some sort of answer. "please don't ignore me princess."

you kept your eyes trained forward, your tongue in your cheek as you tried to calm yourself down, the frustration and disappointment still lingering in your mind, making your body buzz. you sighed, "i don't know what you want from me, atsumu."

you could see from the corner of your eye that he was pouting dramatically, eyes wide. "wh––atsumu? what happened to baby? or bub?" he got on his knees in front of you and placed his hands on your thighs but you looked to the side, not wanting to give in.

you crossed your arms, your voice quiet when you spoke up again. "where were you?"

you noticed him hesitate and scratch the back of his head nervously. "i––well i was with the boys baby and––"

you nodded your head and he paused, scared that he'd said the wrong thing, he didn't want to mess up even more tonight. "but as soon as i remembered i came running home." you got up, and walked past him but he was quick to stand up and follow you. "but you love the boys don't you?" he was trying to make the situation better any way he could, thinking that maybe if he reminded you that you liked them, and even considered them your own friends, you wouldn't be as upset––shit logic, he knows.

you kept walking until you made it to your bedroom, "yeah i do, but they're always with you, tsumu." tsumu, that was better than his full name. you glanced over your shoulder briefly, the hurt look in your eyes stopping him in his tracks for a brief moment. "i just wanted to be with you, for once. i just––can't remember the last time we had a night to ourselves. i missed you." fuck.

you made your way in front of your vanity, looking in the mirror as you reached up to take out your earrings when atsumu's hand gently wrapped around your wrist in mid-air. "wait wait," he brought your hand up to his face and kissed your wrist, pressing his cheek into your palm. "i'm so sorry babygirl, please don't get undressed, you look too good to let all this go to waste. let me take you out, show you off–"

you shook your head, "it's late."

he felt like crying, "but––"

you shook your head again, letting your hand drop to your side. "i'm tired, babe." you reached for your earrings again and this time he didn't stop you, watching you put them away in your jewelry box.

you walked over to your side of the bed and sat down and atsumu dropped back down on his knees, reaching to take your heels off for you. "i'll make it up to you tomorrow––i'll blow off practice and you'll have me all to yourself all twenty-four hours, promise."

you appreciated the effort but sighed, both from his words and the feeling of his hands gently massaging their way from the heel to the ball of your foot. you hadn't actually walked with them so your feet weren't hurting, but you weren't going to reject the massage. "you can't just skip, you're on a professional team."

he moved onto the other foot, bringing it up to kiss your ankle. "sure i can, i just won't go." he was serious as ever, yet you couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

you ran a hand through his hair and he smiled, content with the affection you were showing him. "you're really not gonna let this go, huh?"

he shook his head and kissed up one of your calves, his hand caressing the other. "of course not." he looked at you earnestly and you could tell he wasn't joking around. "i hurt my girl and i've gotta make it up to her." he leaned up on his knees between your legs and tilted his head up towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes. "kiss?"

you bit your lip and nodded, placing your hand on his cheeks to pull him in for a sweet kiss and he sighed, hands resting on your thighs. it wasn't like your usual passionate ones, it wasn't intense, it was short but meaningful, a reassurance. when you both pulled away, he looked at you, a warm gaze in his eyes. "i love you pretty girl, i will make this right, i swear."

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hazyspells

2 years ago

Hi! Can I request for an Oikawa x reader where the reader is somewhat a tsundere and Oikawa is totally in love with the reader but the reader doesn't really believe him bec of his playboy ways (??) And the reader lowkey likes Oikawa too hehe please give it a very cute and fluffy ending 🙏🥺 I know its too much but id be really happy if you can make it. But you can also totally this too tho 😊 Tysm 😁😁

From the Start, It Was You -Oikawa Tooru-

Words: 2510

--------------------------------------------------------

“Not a good day to forget your umbrella, hm?”

Oikawa Tooru jumps at the sound of the sudden voice behind him as you blink in surprise, wondering just why the popular boy was on his toes as you look into the cascading rain, pulling a single earbud out of your ear. It was strange seeing people leave school the same time you did, especially when everyone was mostly at their club activities, the art club deciding to release a little earlier today.

“Yeah. Really not a good day.” Oikawa sighs in response, wondering why you looked so familiar before realizing you were in his grade, assigned to the class next to his. “You’re still here...Y/N, is it?”

“The famous setter actually knows my name.” You crack a grin, leaning against one of the school pillars as Oikawa notices the paint on the sleeve of your uniform, noticing the slight carelessness in how you dressed your attire, contrasting greatly with the pristine look of the other girls’ as your entire aura held a certain maturity to it that Oikawa hadn’t sensed before.

“I tend to remember all the pretty girl’s names.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be flattered?”

“Well do you know this famous setter’s name?” Oikawa flirts, moving to stand next to you as you scoff a little, pulling out the second earbud as your eyes don’t tear away from the falling water.

“Oikawa Tooru. I know your friend Matsukawa, he...is very detailed when telling me about you.”

“He probably doesn’t say very good things about me, does he?” Oikawa sweatdrops, feeling his stomach drop before wondering why he cared so much about what you, a stranger, thought about him.

“Nah, I don’t believe that. You seem like a nice enough guy, it’s not good to believe what other people say about you unless you know the person directly.”

“Those words sound even better when they’re coming from a girl as pretty as you.” Oikawa says, surprised at how easily the words slipped off his tongue. He had genuinely meant it, feeling a little proud at your melodic laugh that rang in his ears as he found himself wanting to talk to you longer.

Oikawa swallows, noting that your smile was absurdly pretty. The mature and developed mindset that you held up was different. Different from-

“Oikawa-Kuuuuuuun! Thanks for waiting!”

Oikawa flinches, suddenly wishing he hadn’t made any plans.

You quirk a brow at the girl running out of the school, amused when a second girl follows. And then a third.

Oikawa’s eyes snap towards you to see you already pushing off the pillar and adjusting your bag strap, offering him a side smile along with your plastic umbrella. You realized why he had been so jumpy earlier, he didn’t have an umbrella to walk these three girls home and was dreading their arrival.

“It seems like you might need this more than me.”

“Y/N, wait-”

“I’m fine! I promise, just...I didn’t expect what Matsukawa said to be true.” You shrug nonchalantly, internally beating yourself up for thinking the attention he had been giving you was genuine. “I’ll see you around school.”

Oikawa’s calls fall short as you run into the rain, not looking back as Oikawa feels the familiar sling of all the girl’s clinging onto him, gushing about how much of a gentleman he was for waiting.

But he could barely hear them, watching your figure fade into gray distance as he really really wished he hadn’t made any plans today so he could talk with you until the rain shower lifted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Matsunnnn, just give me her number!”

“Oi, Iwa. I know punching him is your thing, but mind if I have a go?”

“Be my guest.”

Oikawa sighs, staring at his unwrapped milk bread as Hanamaki arches a brow, shoveling rice into his mouth as Iwa and Matsukawa exchange glances. Matsukawa finishes off his onigiri before shrugging.

“Y/N’s cool. I don’t need you playing her for a few weeks until she gets heartbroken like all the others. You know I can’t get a date because I’m your friend?”

Oikawa didn’t know why that rainy day had such an immense effect on him, and found himself wanting to know more about you, finding the time in his day to casually stroll past the art room to catch a glance of you intensely focused on your canvas, fingers stained with color.

“Dude. That’s called stalking.”

“Correction, Makki, the art room is a public place.”

“...Are you dumb? That’s still stalking.”

The brunette had stopped listening, noticing your figure in the distance walking alongside one of your friends, laughing along with her. Making a split decision, Oikawa brings himself to his feet, shuffling around in his bag before jogging up to you, managing to dodge Iwa’s swipe at his collar.

“Y/N-chaaan!”

You pause, eyes widening before telling your friend to go ahead without you, walking to meet the popular setter you met in the rain halfway.

“What do you need, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa stills. Why were you so formal all of a sudden?

“Your umbrella! I still have it, and I wanted to-”

“Thanks.” You slip the plastic umbrella from his grasp before turning on your heel, frowning when Oikawa grabs your hand to stop your hasty retreat before he can stop himself.

“I was wondering if you wanted to-?”

“I’m not interested in being strung along.” You don’t turn back around, simply pulling your hand from his before glancing back at the handsome setter. “Girls aren’t a thing you can mess around with for a little before dumping.”

“I...I thought you didn’t believe what other-”

“Okay, so is it true?” You face Oikawa fully, tone challenging as you cross your arms. “Tell me it isn’t, and I’ll believe you.”

Oikawa discovers his throat is suddenly dry. Could he tell you that it was false?

You chuckle a tad humorlessly, pulling at your paint-stained sleeve. “I have to go, there must be others you can play with, right?”

Oikawa couldn’t understand the hurt in your tone, nor could he understand the sinking in his chest as he watched you walk off, the sight looking oddly familiar as he remembers the two strangers who stood laughing in the rain before one watched the other walk into the distance.

------------------------------------

“He’s really not a bad guy, you know?”

“Matsukawa, you can’t jump from calling him a douchey heartbreaker to not a bad guy.”

“I have my moods, okay?”

You laugh a little, doodling in the corner of your paper as you hum. “I’m not interested in being friends with someone like him.”

“...so like not even as more than friends?”

You shoot Matsukawa a pointed look as your friend simply smirks back, knowing fully well Oikawa intended to make you his next target. For the past three weeks, Oikawa had made an effort to drop by your club activities with juices for everyone, making the girls in your club swoon and Oikawa’s advances to go unanswered. He even waited for you after school, but you never knew if he was waiting for you or someone else, considering he was never able to call out to you as you brushed by him.

“I’m not interested.” You repeat, Matsukawa pouting in his friend’s defense. “Okay?”

Before the volleyball player can retort, you quirk a brow at the girl approaching your desk, slipping a note on the polished wood as she giggles.

“Oikawa-kun told me to give this to you, Y/N-chan!”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. You didn’t know this girl, so what was with the use of the honorific? Your eyes scan the note before scoffing a little, pocketing it as the girl skips off. Matsukawa’s intruding stare makes you shrug, waving it off as you bite your lip, heart beating unintentionally fast at the words written on the paper.

Come to the gym after school, we need to talk.

So when you rush out of your classroom as soon as the bell rings, not realizing the paper had slipped out of your pocket, Matsukawa picks it up in the midst of calling your name before his eyes narrow.

Oikawa’s handwriting had never looked this neat before.

-----------------------------------

“He’s in here!”

You had a bad feeling. Why was this girl, obviously one of the heads of his fanclub, excited to lead you to Oikawa? There was no way...

but what if he was?

You stare at the cracked doors, hearing the girl run off in a fit of giggles as you push the handle, beginning to push the door open when a pair of footsteps come rushing behind you.

“DON’T-!”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

The bucket of muddy water balanced atop the door frame tipped over as you looked up, realization dawning onto you as you wonder just how you fell for such a childish trick. Your eyes shut tight, hands coming up to shield your head from the metal bucket more than the horrid liquid before the sound of footsteps comes closer.

Oikawa put all the strength he had into his legs to lunge towards you, pulling your defensive figure into his chest tightly as the brunette ducks his head over yours, wincing when the bucket hits his back with a sharp clang. You whimper, wondering why you only felt droplets before you begin to take in the situation, feeling arms wrapped tightly around your figure.

“O-Oikawa-Kun! Are you alright?!”

“What are you doing here?”

“What if we hurt his face?!”

The brunette looks up at the scatter of girls that emerged from the shadows, cameras and phones ready to record falling loosely at their sides as his expression darkens from the usual sweet, welcoming look he usually dawned.

“You could have seriously hurt Y/N! What the hell is wrong with all of you?!”

You close your eyes as your heart beat begins to calm down from the chain of events, hearing whimpers and cries as the girls begin to accuse you of stealing all of their oh-so-loved one’s attention away as Oikawa audibly scoffs in disbelief.

“I...I don’t even know what to say right now. Don’t call me or talk to me anymore, I’m cutting ties with all of you.”

You’re still shaking in disbelief as Oikawa tugs you by the wrist out into the hall, continuing to tug you until you begin to take into account what just happened before blinking out of your daze to see the back of his school uniform drenched along with his hair.

“Shit! U-Um, we have some first aid in the art room, and everyone’s gone home-” You begin to ramble, pulling Oikawa towards the art room nearby as he takes on an unreadable expression, allowing you to guide him before you sit him in one of the seats by the window, rushing to the supply closet afterwards.

Oikawa watches as you hastily try to towel off his hair the best you can, worry evident in your eyes as he remains silent, soaking in just how pretty you were in the light of the now setting sun.

“Do you mind if you take off your shirt s-so I can see where you got hit?”

You remain uneasy as Oikawa stays silent as he begins to unbutton his school uniform, looking away as he does so before your faced with his bare back. Your hand traces gently over the growing bruise as you frown.

“I’m gonna go get ice-!”

An arm lashes out to grab yours before you can do so, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ll ice it later, this is nothing.” Oikawa’s voice is comforting as he pats the stool in front of him. “Let’s talk.”

You relax a little, picking up the towel again to continue drying his hair as you wonder how you ended up toweling off the hottest boy in school as he sits in front of you, shirtless. You take a seat, refusing to meet his eyes from that close a proximity.

“About?” You squeak uncharacteristically as Oikawa smiles a little before catching the wrist that was toweling off his hair, laying his forehead down on your shoulder as you yelp.

“I’m so glad I made it on time.”

“You’re making it sound like I got shot.” You joke, attempting to push him off before Oikawa lifts his head, brown eyes dead serious as you find yourself, for once, at a loss for words.

“What happened to you is my fault.” He sighs, playing with your fingers in his own as you feel the wall you built up against him begin to crumble. You feel heat where his fingers trace your cheek gently, almost as if you were the most fragile thing on earth, ready to break or run away at any moment.

“Yeah. It is.” You laugh breathily, beginning to get up again. “I’m gonna go find that ice-”

“Y/N.”

You bite your lip as Oikawa stands, pulling your back into his bare chest.

“What will it take for you to believe me?”

“B-Believe what?”

“Don’t play dumb Y/N, not when you’re so smart.” Oikawa’s breaths tickle your ear as your heart beats loudly against your ribcage, feeling his own heart beat against your back.

“You’re the one that I want. I’ve never wanted someone so badly before...I don’t even think I’ve ever loved someone before...”

You tremble, anticipating what he was gonna say next.

“But then you came into the picture, and I haven’t been able to look away since.”

You relax, feeling as if a huge weight was lifted off your chest before turning, pulling Oikawa down into a fierce kiss which he readily responded to hungrily as all doubt in your mind seems to dissapear with your shared actions.

“You drive me absolutely crazy, Y/N L/N.” Oikawa smiles as you catch your breath after pulling away, hands tightening around your waist. “So do me a favor?”

“Are you really in a position to be asking me for favors?” You quirk a brow as Oikawa grins at your sassy reply, feeling as if all the work to win you was worth it.

“Just one.” Oikawa cups the side of your face, brown eyes examining yours as if he was reading into the depths of them.

“Don’t fade into the distance anymore away from me, okay?”

“Tired of the chase?” You tease before Oikawa closes the distance between the two of you a second time, rolling his eyes at your sarcasm with a smile.

“Very. Allow me to lock you down as mine, Y/N.”

“Gotta catch me first, don’t get so cheeky.”

And so, the two lovers that had turned from strangers laughed in the middle of the empty classroom as the sun continued to set, an unbuttoned shirt laying side by side with a damp towel as Oikawa Tooru finds his chest filled with an emotion that he had once been blindly searching for, not realizing that the girl who held the key to that emotion-

had been assigned to the class just next to his, paint stained on her sleeves and uniform tucked out of her skirt.

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hazyspells

2 years ago

WORTH BEING SECOND BEST ♡ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader

ingredients? perhaps being “second best” and not having other people crowding him all the time had its perks. what’s it? fluff allergen warning/s? delves into iwaizumi’s insecurities and the stuff he doesn’t project outwardly so maybe he’s a lil ooc. sugar level? 2.3k regulars? @hanayanetwork @tahonet @tokyometronetwork parlor’s note? iwaizumi, along with eita who i can’t shut up about are so underrated ugh.

bon appetit!

iwaizumi’s been oikawa’s friend for more or less a good fifteen years now and as such, he’s come to the conclusion that there are pros and cons to holding the title of oikawa toru’s best friend.

the pros? one, toru’s entertaining. whether it be with his latest gossip that he may or may not have gotten from a fangirl who snitched on their friend just to gain his attention for a few measly seconds or him hitting himself in the head with the volleyball trying to better his serve, oikawa always knew how to make iwaizumi feel happy (and worried, but that’s just part of the Oikawa Toru’s Friend Experience, he reckons).

two, he’s genuine, even if it may not seem like that to some people. if he smirks at the rival team’s captain, telling him they’re gonna be the one headed to nationals, that’s what he’s planning to do. if he tells them to do their best, oikawa wants them to do their best as he’s aware that the competition will sharpen him to be better. if he thanks a fanboy for the cookies he’s baked for him, he’s actually thankful. while the fan may be thinking that this is his movie moment, that the oikawa toru is going to be his boyfriend and oikawa doesn’t really think much of the sweet gesture, he still actually appreciates it. besides, since after the breakup with his last girlfriend, oikawa wasn’t really into the dating scene during high school, much too focused on finally defeating and humiliating shiratorizawa or ushijima wakatoshi in general.

and three, the one he cherishes the most is how they’re like-minded people, both hardworking and studious. the brunette man never led him astray, never became a bad influence - at least not to the point of it becoming an issue - and never nagged him to just have fun. they both cared about their performances, polishing it to the best they can because like he said, talent is something to nurture and wisdom is something to hone. he probably wouldn’t be as good at his profession as he is now without oikawa, but that’s not something he’s going to tell the man. there’s no need for him to blow up his friend’s ego even more.

the cons? he wants to say there’s a lot, but to him, there really isn’t much of those. not subjectively speaking anyways. he loves oikawa, he’s his best friend and though he objectively had flaws, there weren’t flaws to hajime because it made him him.

that being said, there are still two the bugged him to death.

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