B.katsuki X Reader ; M.izuku X Reader Bakugou Cheats On His Gf, With Midoriya's Girlfriend.

b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.

☆– warnings; ANGST. swear words, cheating.

☆– i got inspired to write this angst while i was watching Grey's Anatomy, SPOILER ALERT, the episode where Alex leaves Jo and goes back with Izzy.

☆– okay, so, in this blog, we support old, grown up, calmed down mineta. i read a fanfic once (i can't remember the name! ill try to find it🙈) where mineta had cooled down his thirst for women and became a great friend (still with the double meaning of things, but funny actually), and i thought "okay, if we accept redeemed bakugou, we can accept redeemed mineta". in fanfiction, cuz he's still a stupid, hormonal kid in the manga/anime. so expect more cool mineta bestie here, cuz i like and enjoy double meaning humor. if it's not your cup of tea, you're welcome not to read this🤍

It takes a second, a breath, the entrance of air on your lungs to realize. To assimilate what happened, what it means.

"I brought a bottle of wine, some snacks and ice cream… Nothing heals the heart better than ice cream, talking about personal experience here," his voice says, but you're barely paying attention. You even saw him come into your apartment like it's his own, like he has done it thousands of times. But you don't leave your standing position by the door.

You saw the silhouette of Mineta, tall and broad shoulders through the peephole of the entrance door, and for a second you thought it was him. Even though they look nothing alike. But you thought… you wished it was him.

Bakugou Katsuki.

Reality hurts. 

Reality… is a bitch.

It takes a second to blink, to watch how everything changes, how everything falls apart in the simple action of closing and opening one's eyes.

You never thought it would happen to you. You thought he was it for you. You thought Bakugou Katsuki was going to be the one true love of your life. You trusted him. You gave him years of your life. Years where you thought he was the most amazing thing that ever happened to you. Years where you gave up dreams to help and support him in his dreams. And how does he thank you? Cheating. Choosing somebody else over you. Choosing her over you.

"I also heard hooking up with someone else also helps," Mineta jokes, snorting at his own ridiculous words. You know he is joking, he is your best friend and he has always joked this way. You know it. But… the heaviness in your chest doesn't know it. The pain in your heart doesn't know it.

"I'm not offering though… Don't take it personal, love. I love you and you're one the hottest hotties around here, but you're not exactly my type." He chuckles, taking the things he brought on bags over the counter of your kitchen.

You can see him from your position because it's not that far away, your apartment isn't big. When you and Bakugou went apartment hunting two months ago, you didn't want anything big and ostentatious. You simply wanted a home, whether that be a one room apartment.

It had been a home... Or so you thought.

Now, this apartment feels like a prison. A cell where it doesn't hold enough oxygen to breathe. Where every single corner reminds you of him. Where every single item and thing picked to decorate or to use, spoke about him. Him and you.

And there wasn't a "him and you" anymore.

Everything was a reminder of what him and you were.

There fucking isn't a "him and you" anymore.

"He left me," you breathe out, hand trembling over the doorknob.

Mineta turns around then. He sees you, shaking by the closed door at the entrance of your apartment. Hand holding the doorknob with strength, like your whole body depends on that contact to not fall apart. But your face… He has never seen you like this.

It's blank. And it's full of sentiment, emotions that hurt to actually see. Dark circles under your eyes. The skin of your face is pale, almost like a sick person; and that worries him. You're barely holding everything inside.

You are barely looking like your usual self.

Your breathing starts to agitate when you let go of the doorknob and turn your body a bit towards his direction. Then, your eyes find his.

"He… He just left me… And I–... I can't… I can't breathe," you finally cry.

You haven't cried since he confessed he had cheated on you with his ex-girlfriend, Uraraka Ochako. And that he has been doing it for three months. You did cry in that moment, but you haven't done it again. Not even when you broke the news to Mineta two days after–if you could describe your best friend's reaction, it would be murderous. It had been the first time you had seen Mineta Minoru that furious–. And you haven't even cried when you told Midoriya Izuku about what his actual girlfriend had been doing with your now ex-boyfriend. You remembered watching clearly the slow break of the number one Pro Hero's heart right through his eyes.

You haven't cried again until now. 

Why? Because today, you woke up to a message that said: "I'll pick up my stuff and leave the key at the apartment. I'll go in the morning when you're at work so I don't bother you." When you came back from work at 5pm today, Bakugou Katsuki had done as he promised. His clothes were no longer there, just more space for you to hang and organize your clothes. His computer set-up was no longer there, just an empty desk that you could use as your little home office. His shoes were no longer by the door, just empty space that you didn't know how to fill up.

The apartment is small, but it feels huge now that his things are no longer there.

You immediately texted Mineta: "S.O.S.", and it didn't take even an hour for him to appear with all this stuff he bought to make you feel better.

As you finally broke down on your knees, sobbing uncontrollably like you couldn't bring enough air to your lungs, Mineta knew any silly thing he could bring would be able to help you heal.

Because the only one able to heal this pain inside you… is yourself. 

But you're broken now. And Mineta's heart breaks with yours.

As he kneels beside you and holds you in his arms, he prays his friendship is enough to help you put yourself back together. And if not, Mineta prays to whatever exists up there that they send someone that can help you heal your heart with the devotion you deserve.

As you cry in your best friend's chest, you don't hear the little sound of a new notification on your phone. It's a message, that says:

"Hi, Y/N. It's Midoriya… I was just thinking that… only if you want to, if not it's okay… we could go grab a coffee together sometime. Just if you feel like it. Just… let me know if you want."

Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

My early Christmas present to you:

The brothers letters, you’re welcome~ :3

⟢ tweets about you ! hq

synopsis: just lovesick boys 🤭

ft. atsumu tanaka noya suna oikawa sugawara kuroo kenma bokuto hinata

MEET THE PARENTS

info ⭑ mikage reo x reader ﾉ 0.9k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ reference to reader's parents and family

note ⭑ happy holidays! i think this is my first time writing a solo piece for reo so hopefully it isn't too bad. thanks for reading! ❤︎‬

requested by @yuukimiyas for my winter wonderland event (closed)!

reo is a punctual man—he sticks to a schedule and considers his time valuable. so when he isn’t home on time after practice on the night that you’re hosting your family for dinner, you’re struck with worry. twenty minutes behind isn’t something you’d usually bat your eyes at but you will admit that it’s strange not getting a text or call explaining his absence on the occasion he’s been fretting about all week.

with dinner started on the stove, you wipe your hands on a dish towel before reaching for your phone to figure out what’s keeping reo from home. though, before you can find his contact, the photo you have saved with his name flashes on your screen as the device buzzes with an incoming call from him.

you press the green accept button, wasting no time starting your distressed interrogation. “where are you?”

there’s a laugh from his end of the line and you can hear the faraway honking of horns. his explanation comes easily, as though you should have expected it. “i swung by the florist to pick up a bouquet for your mom.”

reo’s answer doesn’t come as a surprise. in addition to being punctual, reo is chivalrous, too. ever since you told him that your family would be visiting for the holidays, he’s made it his personal mission to make sure that everything is in order—that he’d be leaving a good impression on the ones you love.

if the preparation he’s taken so far is evidence of anything, it’s that he truly has nothing to worry about. maybe you’re a little bit biased, but how could anyone not like reo?

“you know, typically guests bring gifts for the hosts—not the other way around.” the urgency has faded from your voice upon learning the reason behind his not being here, traded in for a more relaxed tone, one with a playful edge.

“no way,” he starts, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice, “it’s their first time at our place and meeting me. i’ve gotta do this right.”

between his actions and his words, it’s clear that reo is taking the one opportunity he has with this first meeting seriously. it’s flattering to see that he cares so much, that he wants those closest to you to like him even a fraction of the way you do. your heart feels like it’s floating in your chest knowing that reo is doing all of this for your sake.

“understood.” you smile with your declaration. “anyways, did you call for something?”

“right, did you need me to pick anything up while i’m out?”

“nope,” you shake your head even though he can’t see you, “just get home safe.”

“sure thing, love you.”

it isn’t long before you hear reo’s key unlocking your front door and his house slippers shuffling down the hallway and into the kitchen. a purple head of hair greets you in the doorway accompanied by pops of red and white from the flower bouquet he’s holding. his violet eyes light up when you turn to meet his gaze and welcome him home.

“hey.” you offer him a wave from the stove before your eyes fall to the flower arrangement in his grasp. “those are pretty.”

he examines them closely, like you’re sure he did while the florist was putting the bouquet together and after he received the flowers. “you think she’ll like them?”

you hum and nod, a smile tugging at your lips upon seeing the relief that colors his face with your approval. he sets the paper-wrapped bouquet on an unoccupied space of the kitchen island before rubbing his hands together and looking to you for direction.

“what can i do?”

there’s an unspoken rule that reo doesn’t cook on special occasions. he can admit that it’s a skill he has yet to master and that the meals of guests are better left out of his hands. with this in mind, you jerk your head toward the cabinets that hold your plates and silverware. “wanna set the table?”

“i can do that,” he agrees.

while you finish up dinner, reo goes between the kitchen and dining room, neatly arranging the dishes on the festive tablecloth you had set out earlier. he kisses you with each trip he makes, first on your forehead, then your nose, and when he’s back in the kitchen for good, he plants one of your lips. the taste of familiar, minty like the gum he chews with a hint of cucumber from his chapstick. 

you’re starting to get the feeling that his nerves are calming, that the perfectionist in him is mellowing, but his next question is proof that he’s still a little anxious about the events to come. “do your parents prefer red or white wine?”

you shrug. it’s been a while since you’ve had a meal with them and even then you can’t say that you paid much attention to what they were drinking. “i’m sure they’ll enjoy either.”

he opens his mouth to protest but you shush him by pressing a finger to his lips.

“reo, relax.” you hook your arms under his to rub soothing circles on his shoulder blades. he takes your advice, taking a deep breath in through his nose and letting it leave through his mouth. your lips pull up into a grin as you feel his muscles ease, the tension seeping from his body. “they’re going to love you.”

he nods, a small smile of his own appearing with your reassurance.

only a moment later, the ring of your doorbell sounds throughout the house. you meet reo’s gaze with an encouraging sparkle in your eyes. “it’s go time.”

HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN

⟶ ft. kuroo, suna, ushijima

♡ kuroo

"kuroo? kuroo testurou?"

kuroo whips around, ready to apologise to whoever that the nekoma volleyball team is currently rushing to catch their bus back to school, when he's suddenly hit with...

kuroo's jaw drops.

he doesn't even know how to describe what he's seeing. all he knows is that he's currently staring at the girl of his dreams.

"um, could i take a video with you?" you give him a tentative grin, before rocking back on your heels, adding, "and if it's okay, could you wish my friend to get well soon?"

kuroo immediately closes his mouth, aware that he looks completely stupid in front of the cutest girl he's ever laid eyes on. he gazes at you with his iconic half-lidded eyes, hoping he sounds more confident than the way his heart is clenching in his chest, "oh? a video? and what's your friend's name?"

"misaki! she's your biggest fan but she couldn't be here because she's sick today." kuroo nods empathetically at your explanation, internally swooning because you're going to such lengths for your sick friend? that is so cute.

"sure! a video's nothing! hang on - kenma, help us take a video!"

kenma turns around, about to protest how they have no more time to entertain fangirls when he sees kuroo slinging an arm around you. kuroo shoots kenma a pleading look and kenma finds himself sighing because, of course, kuroo is absolute putty for pretty girls.

when coach nekomata calls for kuroo and kenma, kuroo frowns as he removes his arm around your waist, before he gets an idea.

he leans in closer to you, pressing something into your hands, smirking, "return this to me in school."

before you can even open your mouth and protest, kuroo's gone.

you look down in your hands and see his nekoma jacket crumpling between your fingers as you giggle to yourself.

♡ suna

suna is normally cool as a cucumber, eyes glued to his phone nonchalantly whenever a group of fangirls approach his teammates and gush animatedly.

normally.

he thinks he's being slick when he sneaks a few glances your way, heart clenching in his chest as he sees you move closer - or rather sees your friends drag you towards...him?

suna quickly assesses his situation and scans the area around him - no, the miya twins were not around him. this could only mean one thing - you're headed straight in his direction.

before he has the time to really freak out about an angel of a girl approaching him, you're already getting pushed towards him, with your friends' soft snickers in the background. and you're beaming up at him softly.

he feels his heart in his throat when he hears you repeat, gesturing to your friend who's holding up a polaroid camera, "are you okay to take a photo with me?"

okay? fuck. he is more than okay.

suna blinks, regaining a little composure. straightening his jersey, suna nods at you silently and wraps an arm around your shoulder, hoping you don't hear the way his heart is hammering thunderously against his chest.

holy shit. how do you smell amazing too? what was that - vanilla or something floral?

as suna tries to figure out what exactly is the intoxicating scent wafting around him, the photo is over, a little too fast might he add. he feels you pulling away from him and his arm drops back to his sides.

he knows he sounds uncharacteristically simp-y and even cringes a little at himself, but he knows he will forever regret it if he didn't ask you.

"do you wanna have another photo? with the polaroid camera, i mean."

suna may or may not have left his number behind the second polaroid.

♡ ushijima

"hi!"

ushijima feels a gentle tap on his shoulder right after he hears you. he turns around slowly and -

there is no way you are real.

"hello." he greets, looking stoic in contrast to the way he's internally panicking.

ushijima feels his grip tighten on the volleyball he's holding, taking in the way your eyes shine under the harsh gym lights. he listens to you ramble something about being a fan of his and a reporter as his eyes continue to glaze over your angelic figure, only snapping out of it when he feels kageyama nudging his side.

"so ermmm, what do you do in your free time?" you repeat helpfully, prodding a pen against your notepad.

"uhm." ushijima feels his face heating up. "i take care of my plants."

you're immediately gasping, "no way! i'm a plant mom too!"

"oh, uhhh," ushijima swallows, growing impossibly redder at the revelation of your shared hobby, "what do you grow?"

"roses!"

of course. that suits you, he thinks, pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

before ushijima knows it, he's spluttering nervously, "there's...actually a nursery around here..."

you look up from your notepad, eyes crinkling excitedly as you listen to ushijima explain how to get there. but after a couple of failed descriptions, ushijima scratches his head, "i-if you're not too busy afterwards, i could take you there?"

your eyes widen at the insinuation, before you nod shyly and give ushijima a small smile, which he finds himself melting at.

did ushijima just score himself a date? maybe.

is he complaining? oh hell no.

🤍 reblogs are very appreciated!