#''he's like a fucked up frog or something'' best line to come out of this by far

[ellecdc]

ELLE !! OMGGGG i read a fanfic based on the movie flipped and i immediately thought of you and how you would eat this trope up or more specifically a childhood best friends to lovers !!

like one day either one or all of the marauders are spending the day with reader then all of a sudden the boys’ hearts start beating a little faster at reader’s laughter or they’re mesmerized by their little subtle quirks and now they’re like “oh fuck… i think i LOVE them love them”

this is not necessarily a request but if you decide to write something like this then YIPPIEEE FLUFF but if not then its just a cute little scenario to think about !!

this was such a sweet idea 🥹 thank you so much for your request 🫶

Sirius Black x gn!reader who he's - oh shit - in love with

Life hadn’t been particularly easy for Sirius.

He was born into a family not out of love but out of obligation.

In fact, he hadn’t ever really known love outside of whatever affection he held for his baby brother until he met his friends. 

He’d been beaten, starved, ignored, and tortured into compliance all before the age of 11; and it only continued tenfold upon his return from school after having been sorted into the wrong house. 

In fact, a lot about Sirius was wrong.

He had the wrong opinions, the wrong hair, the wrong style, the wrong language, the wrong grades, the wrong loyalty.

Sirius was wrong.

At least that’s what his family would have said.

However, Sirius eventually learned that it wasn’t him who had been wrong all this time; it was them.

And whilst removing them from him was very difficult - seeing as they were the ones who bred and raised him - he felt he was doing a pretty decent job of it.

Unfortunately, that meant leaving his baby brother Regulus, and you, behind. 

From as far back as Sirius could remember, everything was always chosen for him; his friends, his interests, his hobbies, the volume of his voice, the clothes he wore, the way he presented himself etcetera, etcetera. 

And though that was technically still true of his dedication to his brother and his companionship with you; the two of you were the only good things to have ever come from his life as a Black. 

His friendship with you was a cherished one.

Perhaps one of the only people who truly got it; who knew what Sirius went through. 

You were the silver lining at every grey and dreary Pureblood Gala and Sacred 28 dinner party.

You were his biggest advocate and protector when it came to his older cousins and the other older Purebloods. 

And you were the only reason Sirius could bring himself to flee that horrid night in the summer before sixth year; he could only leave knowing that Regulus would at least still have you.

But it hurt. 

It hurt knowing he had left you and Regulus to fend for yourselves.

He felt like a coward; like he betrayed the two people who he cared for most.

And he was still so scared; even now, albeit for different reasons.

He was scared because he was certain that when he returned to Hogwarts that September, you and Regulus would hate him.

But apparently, his fears were wrong too.

Because two weeks before the end of summer; two weeks before you would all be piling onto the Hogwarts Express to return to Scotland, you and Regulus showed up to Potter Manor wearing matching timid grins, yet seemingly no worse for wear. 

Somehow, you had gotten yourself and Reggie out of the terror that was your familial homes, and were staying with friends up in Ottery St.Catchpole. 

Sirius never really imagined getting to have his cake at all, let alone getting to have his cake and eating it too. 

Yet, here he sat on a warm summer evening at Potter Manor with James, Remus, Peter, Reggie, and you around a crackling bonfire among the sounds of peeping frogs and chirping crickets as you told some grandiose story about you and Regulus trekking through a vast field where Regulus stumbled in a hidden hole in the ground and cursed for five minutes straight in both English and French before the two of you laughed so hard that you cried. 

Your face was flushed and you were slightly breathless as you narrated your tale; arms flying wildly as you drew a rather descriptive picture of both your surroundings and your actions. Every so often you would reach over to shake Regulus’ shoulder as he hid his face behind his hands, laughing along with you and daring to interrupt if he felt you were overexaggerating some details or not painting him in a flattering enough light. 

What was likely a rather stressful and arduous journey across the Southern half of the country seemed to be nothing but a grand adventure as you retold your experience.

Sirius liked that about you; everything was an adventure with you. You never let Regulus or Sirius feel too poorly for themselves for too long, telling them it was going to be great for their character development.

“I think I’m rather well developed already, sweetheart.” He’d grumbled at you once. You laughed like he had something truly funny. 

And this was no different. From looking at Regulus, Sirius would never guess he’d just absconded from his volatile, abusive, and downright scary family; Regulus rather looked like he was retelling the happenings of a juvenile prank-filled slumber party (which Sirius would know a thing or two about). 

And he looked good. Not like Sirius looked when he first arrived at the Manor; bloodied, bruised, starved, and soaked to the bone. Regulus was healthy, vibrant, and bright. Hopeful. 

That’s the effect you had on people; you filled them with hope. Hope that it would be okay, hope that it would be better, hope that one day you might actually deserve the things you so desperately craved.

You had certainly done that for Sirius.

And looking at how good Regulus appeared, he couldn’t deny the same of you.

You were bright, animated, overflowing with a crackling energy and excitement that might even rival James’.

Sirius realised then that you were everything Sirius ever hoped to be.

Bold, assured, daring, caring, vivacious, kind, and so full of love.

And it seemed to him that the way the firelight was currently reflecting off of your face, as if the fire was somehow brighter from just simply being within your proximity, that you were far more beautiful than Sirius remembered you.

He hadn’t realised he’d been remembering you.

He had missed you; quite terribly, at that.

He missed your reassuring words, he missed your soft gazes, he missed your gentle hugs, and he missed the way that just knowing you were within his vicinity eased a ball of tension he hadn’t even realised resided deep within him. 

And he missed getting to see you; like this most of all.

Lovely, happy, carefree, and beautiful.

He wondered how he’d gone so long without it.

Was a little over a month considered long? He supposed it didn’t much matter, seeing as it certainly felt that way.

Too long.

Sirius never wanted to go that long without you again. You were too important to him, too precious, too sacred, too-

Oh.

Oh. 

Oh.

Sirius Black was bloody in love. With you.

Sirius Black was in love with you.

What likely should have sent Sirius spiralling (and certainly would have a little over a month ago) did nothing but cause him to smile softly as you let out a rather boisterous laugh that sounded like a symphony to Sirius’ ears.

And so, it should be commemorated for future generations to come:

Here sat Sirius Black… having his cake and eating it too.

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter three.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist.

a/n: dont talk to me about that scene after he wakes up and gets angry in her bed okay dont fucking talk to me about it,,,,, that was the filthiest non-smut scene ive ever written

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

Kei stays at your apartment until the end of the semester.

He goes home a couple times a week, of course – he has to do laundry, and he and Yamaguchi have a pre-set Tuesday night plan of sitting on the couch and playing video games until it’s late enough that Tadashi almost always sleeps through his first class on Wednesdays.

But… he somehow finds himself in your bed every other night of the week.

The first two weeks or so, he comes up with excuses.

‘ It’s getting cold, and your heating hasn’t kicked in yet. ’

‘ If I go home this late, it’ll wake Yamaguchi. ’

‘ We’re going out in the morning, anyway. It only makes sense. ’

He does it until, one morning, you roll over and lean your chin on his chest, looking up at him with those doe eyes he likes so much.

‘ You do realize I’ve already agreed to let you keep staying here, right? We talked about it that first morning.’

He’d remembered. He just hadn’t been sure if you’d meant it. But since you’d brought it up again, he’d stopped asking. He’d just allowed himself to get used to falling asleep and waking up next to you.

It makes sleeping on his own for two nights a week utter hell. He can’t get to sleep no matter what he tries. The only thing that works is falling asleep on a video call with you, like a stupid, lovesick teenager. He’s terrified you’ll tell Kiyoko, who would immediately tell Yamaguchi, who would never let him live it down. But it seems you’re just as shy about it, about the fact that you’ve become dependent on each other to do something as simple as sleep.

And sleep is all you do. He’s never dared to cross a line with you in bed. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t try anything, not there, and he’s stuck to it. He lets himself kiss you stupid on the couch before bed, and in your kitchen when you make him coffee before class, and against the wall of your bathroom when your outfit and makeup look a little too good on you.

But never in bed. It’s too tempting – you’re too tempting. And you have no fucking clue.

You just prance around your apartment in those stupid little shorts, with your stupid little smile and that stupid little way you say his name–

‘ Tsukki!’, your giggle excited and your eyes bright.

‘Hey, Tsukki-’, your tone distracted while you sort through mail.

‘Tsukki…’, your eyes wide and your voice whiny while you ask him for something.

It drives him crazy. It makes him want to grab your face and kiss the pout right off your mouth. It makes him want to buy and do anything you want, even when you want nothing at all. It makes him want to whisper your name and admit things that he shouldn’t.

But nothing makes him want to do any of those things more than when you say his name properly, with a little edge in your voice.

‘ Tsukishima.’ , your hands on your hips and your eyebrows arched in annoyance.

‘I swear, Tsukishima- ’, your breath sharp and shallow because you’re stopping yourself from picking a fight.

‘ Tsukishima… ’, your lips close and your eyes twinkling with amusement, because you remember the things he’d been drunk enough to admit at that party.

When the syllables of his name stack in your mouth like that, he’s overcome with thoughts that one should never have about a friend. Thoughts of pinning you up against the wall and daring you to say his name like that again. Thoughts of bending you over the side of the couch and showing you just how in charge you really are. Thoughts of kissing you in that tiny bed, and then making you cry in it, your face buried in the sheets and his name – ‘ Tsukki, please- ’ – whined so prettily.

But he doesn’t do any of that. He just watches you use his name in that scolding, reprimanding way, and he smiles. He sits there and smiles and pretends that every fiber of his very being isn’t aching to show you how to use that smart ass mouth of yours.

And yet, despite the torture, he stays. He stays, waking up next to you every morning and enduring the pain of your presence, and he has no idea why. Maybe it’s the way you hum to yourself while you make breakfast and wince when your coffee’s too hot, because it somehow always is. Maybe it’s the way you think aloud when you do chores, your grocery list rattled off while you stand in the corner folding laundry. Maybe it’s the way you gravitate toward him as if on some biological clock, every half hour marked by your fingers combing through his hair while he works or your arms wrapping around him from behind while he’s putting his shoes on to leave for practice.

Maybe it’s the way you treat him exactly the same but completely different.

You’re the girl he’s always known, rolling those pretty little eyes and telling him without hesitation when he’s being an idiot. You still judge him when he says stupid shit, and you’re still strong about your boundaries and your ability to hold a grudge. But… something’s different.

You sit closer lately, your legs draped over his knee and your side pressed against his. You let him kiss you even when you’re mad, and sometimes – sometimes — that’s all it takes to get you to forgive him. You call him on your way home from class – not because you have anything specific to say, but because you simply feel like talking his ear off while you walk.

He’s not sure which of these things is the reason he stays, but he thinks about every single one. He thinks about them, and he seeks them out. He calls you on the days that you forget to call him yourself. He takes his headphones off if he sees you go into the kitchen, because the chance of hearing you hum off-key is high. He gravitates to you when you’re too immersed in work to pay attention to him, his body draping over yours. He pulls you into the spot between his legs when you watch TV, because sometimes, having your legs hooked over his knee isn’t enough. Sometimes, he wants your back against his chest and your thighs in his hands, your head against his shoulder and your breathing synchronized with his own.

God, he thinks he’s obsessed with you.

Maybe that’s why – on Friday nights, when Yamaguchi and Kiyoko come over – his roommate always looks at him a little too long, the freckled boy staring in suspicion. Tadashi plays along with Kiyoko’s jokes about the two of you, but his eyes are always narrowed when no one’s looking, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips before he looks away. And, when Kei inevitably mumbles that he’ll be staying the night instead of going home with Yamaguchi, maybe that’s why his roommate always meets his eyes evenly, like he’d been expecting it.

Maybe that’s why, on a Saturday morning in mid-December, he finally gets tired of watching your body insecurity get in the way of everything. In the way of that stupid little smile he’s starting to fall for, in the way of the sweet way you say his name. In the way of you seeing how painfully obvious it is that he’s obsessed with you.

It’s that Saturday morning in mid-December that he finally loses his mind, in that tiny bed with you.

–

He wakes on that cold morning to you shifting beside him, wrapped up in his arms. Your back is pressed to his chest, one of his arms wrapped snugly around your middle and the other tucked under your head. You wriggle against him, and, in his half-groggy state, he genuinely wonders if you’re trying to start something with him (later, he chalks that one up to wishful thinking).

You shift again, your hips moving under his arm, and he hums.

“‘s up?” He says, sighing into your hair and pulling you tighter against him. You curve your back protectively when he does, one of your hands coming down on his wrist.

“Uhm,” You mumble. “Can you… Uhm-” 

It’s the discomfort in your voice that clues him into the fact that something’s going on with you.

He peels one eye open and examines you, and, when he still doesn’t understand what’s happening, he opens his other eye and lifts his head. You’re holding your phone with one hand, the screen displaying a comment posted under a photo of the two of you.

[8:54 AM] keisgirl : is it me, or is she gaining weight?????

It’s one of the most-liked comments, with the replies underneath it varying from neutral agreement to outright hateful bullshit.

You haven’t realized that he’s seen your phone. “Could you let me go, please?” You ask, in a voice so small and vulnerable that he’s tempted to listen to you. But he doesn’t, because he knows what this is. This is you falling back in on yourself, closing your body off to him because you don’t want him to touch or look at you.

He sits up quickly, ignoring the noise of surprise you make when his arm slides out from under your head. He snatches your phone away and turns his back to you, scrolling through the comments.

“Tsukki-” You say, recovering and sitting up. You press your chest to his shoulder, reaching for your phone, but he just brushes your hand away, shamelessly pulling up the rest of your open tabs. He knows he shouldn’t, but he needs to check.

Unfortunately, he knows you a little too well.

The Trajectory of Frogs’ Tsukishima Kei’s Relationship with Plus-Sized Girlfriend: Will They Last?

Y/l/n Y/n: In Love or Gold-Digging?

How to Lose Weight in Time for the Holidays

30 Pounds in 30 Days: New Diet Takes World by Storm

Kei’s not sure he’s ever been this angry before. He stares emptily down at your phone, finally letting you pluck it out of his open palm. His hands shake just slightly, and he knows you can see them by how still you are.

“ Tsukki, ” You whisper after a moment. “I-”

“Are you out of your mind?” He says, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I just-”

He whirls on you, eyes alight. “Are you out of your mind , Y/n?” He jabs a finger at your phone. “What are you gonna do, starve yourself because of something that someone on the internet said?”

“It’s not just one person,” You argue weakly. “I’ve been gaining wei-”

“So?” He barks. “So what? I can’t tell.”

You roll your eyes, and he actually feels his eye twitch. “I think you’re a little biased, Tsukki-”

“No,” He says. Laughs, because you’re really going to make him lose it this time. “No, I’m not biased. I’m important.” He rips your phone from your hand again, dropping it on the nightstand as he turns in place and climbs over you. “After everything, you still listen to a bunch of shitheads who know nothing about you. And then you call me biased, because I have an accurate fucking opinion about how you look.”

You gasp when he puts a hand on your shoulder, shoving you down on the mattress. He grabs your thighs and pries them open, settling himself between them. “Why did you want me to let you go, Y/n?”

You swallow hard. “I… I don’t know-”

“You didn’t want me to touch you. Why?” He anchors his hands to your waist, dragging you toward him. “Did you think I was suddenly going to change my mind if I could feel your body? That I was going to feel you under my hands and realize that I was repulsed by you? That I only like you with your clothes on, that I hadn’t considered what might be under them? Is that what you were scared of?”

You don’t answer him for a moment, so he grips your hips tight, his thumbs sure to leave prints on your skin later. “Yes,” You whisper finally, shutting your eyes. “I just… don’t feel pretty-”

“Look at me,” He says, a heated sigh leaving him. You don’t, so he tugs on your thighs hard. “ Look at me, Y/n.”

You pry your eyes open, staring into his own with trepidation.

“Now listen to what I’m about to say to you,” He snaps. “Can you do that, for once ? Or are you going to keep acting stupid? Because I’m not in the habit of having stupid friends.”

Your brow furrows in irritation, and he’s glad to see it. He’s glad to see anything that isn’t that haunting insecurity. He sits back on his heels, keeping his eyes locked on yours. 

“What you seem to be fundamentally misunderstanding, Y/n-” He growls. “-is the idea that the way you look and the way you’re shaped is something that is, without a doubt, unattractive. You think your body is something that no one would ever want to touch — you don’t seem to fucking comprehend that some people might like the way you feel.”

He squeezes your hips once. “ Some people might like that they can hold you like this – that the more of you that there is, the more that they can hold while they fuck you.” Your face is starting to turn red, and he feels immense pride for it. He anchors himself to you, shifting his weight and dragging you down against his hips, over and over again. “ Some people want to see what your body looks like when it bounces like this, Y/n-” You’re starting to gasp, and Kei’s unable to stop the way his eyes trail down the length of your body while he moves you. 

“Some people are obsessed with the idea of making you look like this,” He says, his own breath coming short for a moment. “Because some people want to rail you, and no one could ever look as good getting railed as you would.”

“Tsukki,” You whisper, your chest rising and falling sharply with each gasp. He stops moving you – lets you breathe for just a moment – and slides his hands up your sides, his palms absorbing the heat in your skin while his fingers fan out greedily over your ribs. Your shirt rises with his movement, and he stops when the fabric is bunched up under your breasts. His fingertips skim the skin there, notably missing that lacy underwire that’s always kept him at bay.

He’d noticed that you don’t wear a bra to bed – of course you don’t, that would be unreasonable to expect, even with him here – but fuck, if he isn’t just now realizing what that means. He chews on the inside of his bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. 

The moment to breathe seems to have been enough for you, because your fingers close around his wrists. His first thought is that you’re stopping him from going further, that maybe he should back off. But you don’t push him away.

If anything, your eyes seem glazed over with desire, your breath still coming a little short.

“ Tsukki ,” You breathe, shifting your hips against his carefully — there’s no way you can’t feel how hard he is right now. Your voice is quiet, like before, but now there’s more. More, like you want him to keep talking to you.

He can do that.

“Do you believe me yet?” He says. His voice shakes with his breath, and he swallows hard to hide how you’re affecting him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

When you don’t answer him this time, he can’t tell if it’s because you really don’t have an answer, or if it’s because you’re fucking with him. Because the way your eyes drag down his body – the way you open your thighs an inch more and press your hips against his gently, an invitation – makes him think you might be fucking with him.

“I’m just,” You mumble, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. “I dunno, Tsukki.”

You must be fucking with him.

“No?” He says, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs and peel them off of him. Your eyes widen, his own narrowing. He extracts himself from between your legs, as much as he doesn’t want to, and tosses your legs sideways onto the bed. You gasp, alarmed, and he grips your waist, hoisting you up by force and turning you over. You scramble to catch yourself, your hands and knees hitting the mattress.

“What-”

Kei sits up behind you, finding his place on your hips again and yanking you back. Your ass presses against him, and he holds you there, no matter how hard you wriggle. Your heavy breathing is audible, and he’s thankful for it, because the way you’re moving against him is not making his own breath very quiet at all.

“Still not sure, sweetheart?” He says, flattening a hand against your back and pushing down on it. You collapse on your elbows with a yelp, and he slides his fingers up and takes a fistful of your hair. “How about this-” He snaps his hips forward, feeling his thighs slap against yours and your ass ripple from the force. You choke out a moan, and he does it again, against his better judgment. 

“You think the right guy wouldn’t die to feel you like this, Y/n? You think he wouldn’t do anything for a chance to make you sound like this?”

You moan again in response, and his stomach flips with excitement – because the syllables that had just stacked in your mouth were undeniably those of his own name. 

He rocks his hips into yours again as he uses his hold on your hair to yank you up. Your breath catches in your throat, and you lift up blindly, so trusting and sweet while he pulls you back against his chest.

“What was that, princess?” He says, breathless and embarrassingly eager. “What’d you say?”

Your lips purse, and he knows he was right, because you’re looking up at him with embarrassment. He releases your hair, his hand coming down to wrap around the column of your throat. He stares down into your eyes, feeling your pulse skip under his palm. 

“ Again, Y/n ,” He whispers, watching goosebumps break out over your skin. Two syllables fill your mouth, the same he’d heard the first time.

“ Tsukki.”

He’s so fucked.

Releasing you, he plants a hand on your back and shoves you onto your stomach, handling you roughly as he turns you back around. He clambers between your legs, relishing the way your thighs open and wrap around his waist, so welcoming. He cages you in, hovering over you as he stares. You stare back, eyes wide and breath short.

And then he stops, because he knows he should. 

He has to. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, eyes searching your face. You seem taken aback by his question, your brow furrowing. 

And then you blink, and your eyes clear.

And, for all that he’s silently begging you to say yes – begging for this to be such a simple choice for you – he’s glad he asked. Because he can see the realization starting to hit you. That this will go somewhere, somewhere fast and irreversible, if you say yes.

You swallow, and then your eyes look away from his, and he takes that as his answer. 

“Okay,” He sighs, hanging his head. “Okay.” He starts to lift away from you, but your hands are on his biceps.

“Wait.” You search him anxiously. “Tsukki, I- I just…”

“I know,” He says, nodding. He’s a little disappointed — mostly just a little hard and more than a little horny — but there’s no world in which he’d rather you do something you’re not sure about. “It’s okay. I know. That’s why I asked.”

You look like you want to cry. “Are you mad at me?”

He glares down at you. “Seriously?”

“I feel like I led you on-”

“Y/n, of course I’m not fucking mad at you.” He sighs, slowly extracting himself from between your thighs and sitting beside you. “I’m not that guy-”

“I know!” You sit up on your knees, hands on his shoulders. “I know, Tsukki. I just… Are we good?”

He laughs tiredly, dropping his head back against the wall. “ Yes , Y/n. We’re good. I’m not gonna make you do something you’re not ready for.”

You shake him. “But are we good, Tsukki? Us?”

He looks at you, taking you in. You look so scared. And as much as he wants to yell at you, to snap at you for being this worried that he would be upset with you over this, he knows he can’t. Not when you’re this scared.

“Will you please stop listening to other people? I really can’t keep doing this. I mean it this time,” He says. You pause, and then you nod. He lifts his brows. “You believe me? You trust me?” 

You give him a shy laugh, your face radiating heat. “I think you kind of… made it clear what you think. I believe you, Tsukki.”

He tries to fight the blush that’s rising. He’d really lost his mind there. “Then, yes,” is all he says, pushing your hair behind your ear and taking your face in one hand. “We’re good. I promise.” 

You sniffle, but you nod, and the doe eyes you give him make his heart skip. “Okay. Thank you. I… I’ll be ready soon, I swear-”

“You don’t have to promise me something like that, Y/n. You don’t have to be ready soon, and it doesn’t even have to be me.” He bumps his forehead against yours, the closest he can come right now to shaking you in frustration.

“It’ll be you,” You admit, glancing away nervously. Kei thinks his heart actually stops in his chest when he hears that. 

“You’re… Are you sure?” He says, barely a whisper. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You just laugh, watery and sweet and perfectly capable of killing him where he sits. “Of course it’ll be you. Don’t be stupid.”

“ Me? ” He can’t help but laugh, sharp and full of disbelief. “You’re telling me not to be stupid? Are you joking?”

When he ropes you into his arms and starts berating you for being stupid, you only giggle and let him, and he thinks — not to be dramatic or anything — that he might just do anything to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

He’s so fucked.

–

He goes home later that day, to get some more clothes and because Tadashi’s going home for Christmas.

When he enters the townhouse – brushing off the paparazzi at the gate asking if he plans to move in with you since he’s spending so much time at your place – he finds his roommate rushing around the house in a flurry of open suitcases and screaming.

“Uh-” Kei ducks as a pair of boxers goes flying over his head. “Are you okay ?”

“ I overslept! ” Yamaguchi screeches from upstairs. “ I stayed on the phone with Lev too late last night, and now I’m going to miss the train! ”

Kei lifts his brows, finding a safe place in the armchair and watching the destruction unfold in their living room. “So… things are good with him, then?” Yamaguchi had been on a few dates with the aspiring model since Halloween, and Kei had heard him talking recently about officially seeing him. “Gonna introduce him to your family soon?”

“ You shut your ass! ” Tadashi yells. “ I’d say the same about you and Y/n, but your family already knows her! Didn’t she have a massive crush on Aki when we were kids?! ”

Kei flushes, scrubbing at his brow. “We’re not dating, Dashi,” He murmurs. “And, yes, she did. It was annoying.” Tadashi reenters the room at a high speed, flying down the stairs with clothes piled high in his arms. 

“You sure about that?”

“About the two years she was convinced she would marry my brother? Yes, I’m sure.”

“About you dating, dumbass.”

Kei sighs. “I know. I’m sure about that, too.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me or Kiyoko.” His roommate shrugs, reconsidering one of his shirts and tossing it on the couch.

“Yeah?” Kei laughs nervously. “How’s it look?”

“Looks like you’re madly in love with her, to be really honest-” Tadashi cuts off, seeing Kei pick up the throw pillow behind him. “ Don’t give me brain damage right now, please. I’m too busy.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Kei mumbles, setting the pillow in his lap.

“Dude, you’re obsessed with her.” Tadashi sits on his pile of clothes, shoving it into his suitcase with his ass. “You’d bottle her farts and smell them throughout the day if you could.”

“You’re really romantic, you know that? Lev into that kinda thing?” Kei says, growing frustrated. He knows he’s obsessed with you. He knows . He’d all but admitted it to you in bed this morning.

“Look,” Tadashi says, running into the bathroom and throwing literal bottles out the door and across the length of the living room. Kei watches, impressed, as he racks up a high success rate of getting them in his suitcase. “You’re staying at her place all the time, you only come home to get clothes-”

“And for our Tuesday nights!”

“-you fall asleep on the phone with her if you do sleep here-”

“Who told you that!”

“-and your face turns a really weird shade of red whenever I bring this up.” Tadashi points at him now. “Kinda like that.”

It is rather warm in here.

“Just think about it,” Tadashi continues, slamming his suitcase shut and zipping it up with shockingly minimal struggle. “You have all of Christmas Break. Kiyoko’s busy with Kyoutani, and I won’t be here, so you don’t need to come home at all.” He stands the suitcase up with a huff and then stares down at it with hands on his hips, proud of his work. “Kiyoko tells me Y/n’s also having a hard time.”

Kei perks up, following him to the foyer and watching him put his coat on. The words ‘ it’ll be you ’ float through his head, and it’s suddenly a lot warmer in here. “What’d she say?”

Yamaguchi eyes him. “Exactly what I just told you. That you two are acting like idiots who don’t know how to speak to each other.” He rolls his suitcase to the door. “Stop dancing around each other and make this official. Not labeling things is going to end up with one or both of you heartbroken.”

So you had talked to Kiyoko about this.

Yamaguchi leans in, squeezing Kei in a tight hug and then slapping him on the back. “Go get ‘em, Tiger-er. Frog.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Kei staring at the front door with a mumbled ‘ have a safe trip ’ echoing in the empty foyer.

–

Tsukki stays with you through Christmas. 

After that morning in your bed, you have an irrational worry that – when he goes home to say bye to Yamaguchi – he might never come back. You pace your apartment for an hour after he’s gone, eventually calling Kiyoko to freak out. You severely regret that decision, because she spends the better half of another hour laughing in your ear about how you’d almost fucked your best friend. She does calm down, eventually, and it’s to remind you that Tsukki’s never lied to you.

He’s never lied to you, and he’d told you he wasn’t mad at you, so you have to believe him. You have to believe him about everything , because that’s all he’s asking of you. 

So you hang up the phone, wishing Kiyoko ‘ good luck and good fucking ’ before she leaves for a date with Kyoutani, and you sit on the couch with the TV on. You stare at the screen and pretend to know what’s happening, only checking your phone sixteen times over the course of another few hours. And when there’s a knock at your door, you only pounce off the couch before catching yourself, managing not to run all the way to the door. 

And, God, are you glad that you did everything you could to remain calm. Because, when you open the door, Tsukki’s standing there holding dinner and looking through his duffel bag like he’s checking that he didn’t forget anything. He’s standing there, completely normal, like you hadn’t all but asked him to fuck you and then promptly rejected him only hours earlier. 

He just looks at you, hair dusted with snow and nose tipped red from the cold, and asks if you’re okay. Because you’re just standing there staring at him like it’s Christmas morning, not letting him in. You do let him in, and you eat dinner together, and then you go to bed together. And you’re scared that being in that bed with him again might be awkward, but he just climbs sleepily between your legs and falls asleep with his head on your chest. 

It doesn’t come up again until Christmas Day. 

— 

On Christmas morning, you wake to the conflicting smell of coffee and something burning. Sitting up, you look directly into the kitchen, seeing smoke and a towel waving through the air.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, rolling out of bed and rushing over to where Tsukki is coughing and waving his arms.

“My fucking best!” He sputters, fanning a hand in front of his face. “What does it look like?”

You round the bar, yanking the smoking pan off the stove and dumping its contents in the trash. You roll your eyes when he whines ‘ my beautiful breakfast’ somewhere behind you. “What were you trying to make?”

“Eggs,” He grumbles, and you can’t help but shoot him an amused grin.

“Finally, something the Great Tsukishima Kei absolutely sucks at.”

“I suck at most things that aren’t volleyball and school.”

“Well, thank God for that,” You snicker, throwing the pan back on the stove and turning to plant a kiss on his mouth. “If you’re gonna be good at something, I would hope it’d be your job .”

He grumbles briefly but just wraps his arms around your waist and follows you around the kitchen, severely interfering with your ability to cook an actual breakfast. 

“Speaking of my job…” He starts, his voice muffled in your shoulder. “I think they’re supposed to let me know soon about the contract.”

You turn in his arms, setting the carton of eggs down. “Really? When?”

“Dunno. But it’s the end of the year, so…” He looks indifferent about it, but you can see that he’s worried that they haven’t said anything so close to New Year’s Eve. 

“Okay. I’m sure they’re just finalizing things, that’s all.” You card your fingers through his hair and pull him in, kissing him gently. “Do you wanna go out tonight? For dinner?”

He smiles against your mouth. “You askin’ me on a Christmas date? So cliche, princess.”

There’s no amount of money in the world that could make you admit to him how fluttery those words make you. You just kiss him again, letting him back you into the counter.

“Maybe,” You mumble. “Pick a place. My treat.”

“You’re funny,” His mouth drops to your neck. “Thinking I’d ever let you pay for anything while I’m around.”

“You let me pay for coffee that one day,” You argue pointlessly, your breath short from the way he’s nibbling on your skin. 

“That’s because you’re a two-faced liar who hides the important things in a relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You coo jokingly. “Can I make it up to you?”

He groans, laughing after. “You know exactly how that sounded.”

“Yep,” You say, finally pushing him off of you and returning to the eggs on the counter. “Pick somewhere nice for dinner. It’s Christmas!” 

He grumbles through the morning, your giggles filling the rest of the air, and you exchange gifts after breakfast. You’d made him a photo album of all the most ridiculous pictures you’ve taken together over the last few months. He’d gotten you a necklace that he’d watched you ogle in the window every single time you’d passed by, always claiming that it was too expensive and that you didn’t need it, anyway. He helps you put it on – kissing down the curve of your neck and over your shoulders and whispering that you’re even prettier now – and you sit in his lap with the photo album open, trying your very hardest not to kiss him silly every time he laughs that bright, genuine laugh that always makes your heart beat harder.

Around dinnertime, you get ready, asking what kind of restaurant he’d picked and rolling your eyes when all he says is ‘ a nice one ’. You pull out your best dress – a floor-length, wine red little number – and then you watch as Tsukki loses all concentration, his tie dangling pathetically in his hands.

“Ready?” You say, stepping out of bathroom as you finish pinning your hair up. His eyes drag down the length of you, and then he shakes his head dumbly.

“Not even a little bit.”

You make fun of him all the way to his car, brushing your mouth over his in the elevator and watching with a smirk as he fights the urge to chase after you when you pull away.

The dinner goes perfectly – it’s an upscale spot that serves way too little food on plates that are way too big, but Tsukki holds your hand the whole time and looks at you like he’s never looked at you before. It makes you nervous, but he just smiles when you blush, mumbling that he likes that look on your face. You wonder what’s gotten into him, but you decide to let it go in favor of sharing a glass of wine with him and giggling when his face starts to flush from the alcohol.

He’s decently nice to the reporters outside the restaurant, either feeling relaxed from the drink or too busy pulling you away from Nariko, who you’re chatting up with a wine-tinted bubbliness that makes the other reporters scowl. She just squeezes your arm and tell you to have a merry Christmas, and Tsukki busies himself with leading you by the hand down to his car. You don’t see it, but you find out a few hours later on Twitter that he’d pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and stuffed it in Nariko’s hand, telling her to go home to her family for the holidays. The pictures online had all shown Nariko’s awe-stricken face and the jealousy of much meaner reporters who’d never gotten the time of day from Tsukishima Kei.

He takes you to a pizza place down the street after leaving the restaurant, where you split a large supreme pizza and complain about how little food there was at the expensive place. You ask if they charge for air, and he jokes that they probably charge for smelling the food. You crack shitty jokes and fight over the last slice, and then you watch with thinly veiled affection as Tsukki signs the t-shirts of some young boys who’ve run over from the next booth over. He even gives them a small smile when they say he’s their favorite Frogs player, and then he gives you a large one when they turn to you and ask what it’s like to date someone famous.

‘ It’s a pretty sweet gig, ’ You tell them, leaning in conspiratorially. They lean in, too, eyes twinkling. ‘ I get to see a side of him that no one else does. Kind of like having a secret identity.’

They run off, claiming to their mother that Tsukki’s a superhero. Or a spy. They can’t decide.

Tsukki takes you home soon after, intertwining his fingers with yours and running his lips back and forth over your knuckles absentmindedly while he drives. When you get home, you change into sweats and take all your makeup off, realizing only then that Tsukki looks at you the same way even while you stand there in old, ratty clothes and mascara smeared under your eyes.

He just watches you, his eyes flicking away but always coming back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s with you, tonight, huh?” You finally say, curled up against his side. There’s some trashy movie on, but you can’t bring yourself to focus – not with him sliding his fingertips across the strip of skin that peeks out from under your shirt, over and over again until you start to shiver with each pass.

“Nothing,” He says, glancing down at you and then back at the TV. “Just… I dunno, it’s Christmas.”

You smile up at him, your eyes twinkling. “You’ve never been one for Christmas spirit , Kei.”

“Well, maybe I am now.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s nice to just spend it with you and do nothing else.”

“We spend every Christmas together,” You argue, smiling wider when he just squeezes you.

“‘s different,” He mumbles. You give up on bullying him, your heart warming and your skin prickling with happiness. It is different. Things are different. Every moment with him feels realer than the last, like you could do anything with him because you know it’ll be okay.

You look up at him, examining the way his lips start to tug up when he senses you watching him. Finally, his eyes drop to yours, honey-golden and warm, and you lean up to kiss him.

You barely manage to brush your lips to his when his phone rings in his pocket.

He leans back but keeps his eyes on your mouth while he extracts his phone, not looking at the Caller ID before lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?” He watches your mouth still, distracted.

And then he blinks, eyebrows furrowing as he looks away.

“Okay..?” He says, retracting his arm from your waist and standing slowly. Your heart starts to drop as you watch him pace the space between the couch and your bed. Who is he talking to? Is something wrong?

“Okay,” Tsukki says, blinking rapidly. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” He sighs. “Yeah. That’s-Thank you.”

And then he hangs up, and you watch him stare down at his phone, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Tsukki…?” You whisper after a moment, officially worried. When he looks at you, though, you see it. 

The relief in his eyes.

“They’re signing me.” He stares. You stare back. And then his mouth breaks in a smile, and he looks you over. “They’re signing me, Y/n. They’re throwing an event on New Year’s Eve.”

“What?!” You jump over the back of the couch, launching yourself at him. He hoists you up and laughs, that beautiful, bright laugh that you can’t live without now. “Tsukki!” You wrap your legs around his waist, burying your face in his neck and squealing. 

“Holy shit,” He breathes, laughing in disbelief. “Holy shit, we did it.” And then, when you lift your head to smile down at him, he uses one hand to grab the back of your head and drag you in for a kiss. “ Fuck, we did it. You did that ,” He mumbles against you. “ Thank you. ”

You shake your head, dropping your legs and kissing him while he sets you down. “ You did that, Tsukki,” You say, turning and heading into the kitchen. “You’re amazing, you know that?” You search through cabinets, extracting two bottles of wine. You brandish them at him with a grin. “We have to celebrate!”

He looks between the two bottles, chewing on his bottom lip, but you see the smile peek through after a second. “Yeah… Yeah, I’d say both bottles are necessary.”

“To celebrate. Properly,” You justify.

His grin is wide now. “Properly.”

–

Celebrating properly ends up – somehow, some way – involving Tsukki’s lips on your throat and his fingers tangled in your hair. He smells like wine, and your head is swimming from him and the alcohol. 

You’re laid back on the couch, hair fanning out around you and legs wrapped around him. He’s got his other hand on your waist, inching higher and higher every few seconds and taking your shirt with it. 

“ Tsukki ,” You whisper, your fingers locked in his hair and your back arched until your chest presses to his. “ Please. ”

He groans against your throat. “ We can’t ,” He slurs, shaking his head. “‘r not ready-”

You whine, using your grip on his hair to pull his head back up. You kiss him heatedly, moaning when your shirt bunches up around your breasts, his fingers stalling there but sliding hesitantly under the hem.

“Doesn’t have to be-” Your breath stutters, because his hips are moving unconsciously against yours, and you can feel how hard he is. “Doesn’t have to be everything-”

He seems to like that answer, his kiss growing rushed. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah-yes-” You nod furiously. “Please. Please. ”

He sighs roughly, pulling away from you and sitting up. You barely have time to breathe before you’re being lifted through the air and dragged into his lap. You gasp, your head spinning, as he turns you quickly in place. Your back slams against his chest, and his mouth drops to the junction of your throat. 

You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tsukki,” You sigh, feeling his heart beating against your back. He slides his arms around your waist.

“You’re sure?” He asks again, his voice low and humming through your skin. You nod, eyes half-closed and staring blankly at the movie that’d you’d lost track of a long time ago. You sigh in relief and close your eyes when he pushes his lips against your throat, the scene in front of you lost as you breathe him in.

With your eyes shut, you feel him more intensely. The warmth of his lips on your skin, the way his hands start to slide across your sides, your t-shirt falling over his wrists. He stops just below your breasts, nipping his teeth on your throat to get your attention.

“ Last chance ,” He whispers.

You arch your back, grinding your ass subtly back into him. You feel his cock twitch against it, and he bites down harder on your shoulder.

“Was that your answer?” He breathes, his hands growing more certain on your skin. 

“ God , Kei,” You laugh. “Do something before I do.”

You feel him smile before anything else.

He slides one hand back down around your waist, using his arm to anchor you to him. His other hand slides up, and you gasp, feeling his palm cup your breast.

“ Oh -” You arch your back again, your head falling back against his shoulder. You’d noticed how big his hands are over the months together, but you’d never really realized .

He keeps you flush to him while his fingers roam eagerly over your chest, the pads of his fingertips rough and calloused from volleyball. He kneads one breast, his palm as searing hot as the kisses he trails along your throat, and then he switches to the other. His fingers tweak and pluck at your nipples, teeth blunt on your shoulder and his other arm holding you tight as you start to wriggle and moan. 

You dig your hands into his thighs, the fabric of his sweats balled up in your fists. Your head swims, face warm and skin sweaty, and you loll your head back and forth on his shoulder. “Tsukki, please,” You moan, unconsciously spreading your thighs and pushing them against his. He notices, the hand on your waist squeezing once.

“Want more, princess?”

“Please, fuck-” You want to growl when he takes his hands off of you, but the brief disappointment is replaced with a distinct thumping of your heart when he hooks both hands under your knees and pries your thighs open, hanging your legs over the sides of his knees. You feel briefly vulnerable sitting like this, but he just slides his hand back under your shirt and continues to play with you.

“Comfortable?” He asks, his other hand toying with the waistband of your pants. You nod, your breathing growing heavy when his thumb slips under the band. “You sure?”

“Tsukishima, I swear-” You gasp, feeling him tug hard on your nipple. He snickers against your shoulder, whispering ‘ so easy ’ into your skin as he pushes his other hand past the band of your sweats. He doesn’t bother stopping there, fingertips slipping past your panties and finally pausing right over where you need him. 

“ Mm- ” You purse your lips hard to keep from moaning too loud. But your head fills with static and your stomach flips over itself again and again while he swipes teasing circles over your clit.

“C’mon, princess,” He breathes smugly into your ear, but you hear him swallow hard as his fingers dip lower and slide through your folds. “You’re not gonna let me hear you? After everything?”

His fingertips are hot against you, and you become suddenly aware of how much larger his fingers are than yours. You feel — horrified, truly — as you become wetter against his hand. Tsukki’s smile is wide against the shell of your ear. 

“What happened, baby?” He whispers, nudging the tip of his middle finger against your entrance. “If there’s something you want, you gotta ask for it.”

You just lift your hands to your face, hiding. Tsukki lifts his own hand away from you before coming down quickly, the slap sharp against your core. You yelp, hands flying to hold onto his arms and face burning as he soothes the pain by running his fingers through your folds. There’s a soft squelch that echoes in the room and makes him chuckle low against your head. 

“ I think your pretty little pussy likes me, princess ,” He whispers, the hand on your chest sliding up through the collar of your shirt and resting on the base of your throat. “ Better ask fast, before I lose interest. ”

You whine, your heart pounding against his hand. “Please, Tsukki…”

“Yeah?”

You tighten your hold on his arms, nervous. “Please finger me?”

“Aw,” He coos, laughing gently as he swipes more circles over your clit, still gentle. “That’s so sweet, baby. But you can do better.”

“What?” You whine, turning your head and burying your face in his neck. Your throat pushes further into his hand, and you feel yourself get impossibly wetter when he tightens his grip. 

“You can ask better than that,” He mumbles, and you feel his cock twitch against your back when you clench, his fingers sliding patiently back and forth.

“Uhm-” You shudder, because he’s switched to flicking his fingertips against your clit. “I-”

“ Come on, Y/n, ” He whispers against your head. He starts to tap his fingers, one and then the other. “ I’ll stop if you don’t ask soon.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest, and you shake your head. “Please don’t-”

“Then ask me-”

“I did- ”

“ Ask me, Y/n- ”

“ Please , Tsukki!” You yell, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to think about how your voice bounces on the walls. “I need you to stuff your fingers in my cunt and fuck me before I lose my fucking mind -”

He groans loudly, drowning you out, but your voice cuts short anyway, because he’s sliding his middle two fingers down and pushing them roughly into you. 

“Oh, my- Tsukki- ” You gasp, his name ripped from your throat.

“ Fuck- ” He groans, sliding his fingers out and slamming them back into you. “ Y/n- ” 

You purse your lips to muffle yourself, wriggling and arching your back, your throat pressing into his hand. “Tsukki, fuck.”

“God, you’re so pretty, baby,” He whispers, his breathing rough and shallow. “You feel so good-” His chest heaves against your back, and your head fills with white noise, a ringing in your ears as you feel nothing except the way his fingers stretch you out, his palm slapping against your clit over and over again until you feel like your skin is on fire. “You’re doing so- so good with my fingers-“ He cuts off, moaning and pressing his face into your hair when you clench hard around his fingers. “ Fuck , Y/n-“

“Please,” You whimper, knowing how desperate you sound. “More, Tsukki, please-”

���Baby-“ He laughs, his voice strained. “I don’t know-”

“ Please , Tsukki. Please, I need you-“

He slams his hand into you, stopping long enough to take a deep breath. “Y/n, I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready f-”

“I’m ready!” You scream pathetically. “Please, I promise I’m ready, I need you so bad, Tsukki-” 

“Y/n-”

You know it’s only been a week since that morning on your bed. You know that he’s worried that you’re not thinking straight. But you also know that it’s him, that it’s always been him. That, above all else, he’s the one you need. That there will never be anyone else.

You think you might be in love with him.

And if that’s the case, then you’re really not seeing any reason to keep waiting. 

“Tsukishima Kei, I swear to fucking God – if you don’t fuck me, I will actually start sobbing.” Your voice is already starting to crack, and your chest is heaving in large gulps of air. He moans quietly in your ear, and you think he says something to the effect of ‘ Okay, baby. I got you’, but you can’t be sure. The ringing in your ears is too strong, worsened when he quickly slips his fingers out of you. You whine at the emptiness, the sound lost in the shuffle of Tsukki lifting you into his arms and standing from the couch.

He carries you to bed in two strides, lying you down much more gently than you’d expected. Climbing over you, he slides his shirt off and drops it to the floor in one smooth motion. Your heart jumps, and you eagerly sit up to do the same, barely catching the way his eyes widen as he takes you in. And then you lie back, clutching the sheets in both hands to fight the urge you have to cover your chest. But it seems like he might be enjoying what he’s seeing, because he just hooks his fingers distractedly into your sweats and panties, his eyes roaming your body. He pulls them both off and sends them somewhere off the edge of the bed without looking. 

“Shit,” He whispers, more to himself than anything. You shiver under his gaze, gathering the courage to let your thighs fall open. Cold air hits your skin, but you barely have time to whimper before his eyes are dropping. They go wide, and you watch all the air leave his lungs as he stares down at you. “ Shit ,” He says again, even quieter.

“Coming?” You breathe, reaching one hand along the sheet for him. His gaze flies to yours, golden eyes still stunned but recovering the moment he sees you looking up at him. Wordlessly, he drops down over you, his lips finding yours in a rush of heat and everything he’s not saying right now. You sigh against his mouth, holding his face and spreading your thighs further when you feel him reach down between you for his own pants. He pushes them down blindly and kicks them off into the distance, his mouth hot and his wine-laced tongue dancing along yours.

“Y/n,” He mumbles, and you tighten your hold on his face.

“If you ask me if I’m sure, I will finger myself in front of you and then kick you out.” 

His laugh is the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Okay.” He nibbles on your lip and shifts his weight. You feel his cock brush along your thigh, precum smearing on your skin. “I hear you.” 

You will admit that you’re nervous. As he pulls his lips from yours and glances down between you with purpose, the head of his cock bumping up against your entrance, you’re struck with anticipation and a little bit of fear that this might hurt a lot, especially considering his size. But then, as he’s using his thumb to push the tip in as slowly as possibly, his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

And you remember just how sure you are. 

So, even though it does hurt — the sting causing you to grip the sheet hard enough to rip it — Tsukki’s eyes are flicking back and forth between your face and your core, his brow furrowed in concentration, and you feel impossibly safe. Because he would never do anything that might hurt you. 

You trust him.

“‘s this okay?” He grunts, sliding painstakingly slowly into you. You just nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth and eyes scrunched shut. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours and forcing you to free your lip from its torture. “Y/n, if it hurts, we can stop. We don’t have to do this,” He whispers against you, but you only shake your head, whining.

“‘m okay, I promise. ‘s just new.” Your breath is shallow in your chest. “Maybe if I jus’…” You angle your hips up and spread your thighs just an inch wider, and you feel his sigh against your lips. The relief is instant for you, too, and your lungs fill with air. “Okay,” You breathe, prying your aching fingers from the sheets and stretching them. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” He whispers back, his hand finding your thigh and his fingers splaying across the underside. He sighs, the sound a half-groan as he bottoms out inside of you. “Fuck.” 

Your brow’s broken out in a sweat and your skin is flushed with heat, but when you open your eyes, Tsukki’s staring right back at you, gaze searching your face. You wonder what you look like, because you’re seeing awe in the way his eyes trace you.

“You okay?” His eyes track the embarrassed purse of your lips and the way you glance nervously down your body at the place where his hips meet yours. 

“Are you?” You ask breathlessly, watching his arms shake as he holds himself over you. 

“No,” He laughs. “This is torture.”

You beam up at him, your voice weak when you say, “You can move, Tsukki.” Your fingers find his shoulders, and he collapses onto his elbows, pressing his forehead to your chest. 

“Really? I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Are you this careful with every girl? I’m starting to get a little offended-”

“ You’re not every girl ,” He says simply, muffled against your skin. Your stomach flips, and you accidentally clench around him. The sound he makes is inhuman. “ Was that necessary? ” He complains pitifully into your chest. You giggle wholeheartedly, and he shakes his head against you. “ Don’t do that either- ” 

“Oh, my God, Tsukki – please just move ,” You laugh, snaking your arms around his neck and lifting his head toward you. He shifts, kissing you firmly and breathing a soft ‘ yes, ma’am ’ against your lips. 

He starts slow, slow as before. His hips pull back carefully, and then he rocks forward on his knees, bumping gently up against you when he bottoms out again. The sting is still there, but he distracts you by kissing you, his lips eager on yours and his quiet moans breathless and lost in your throat. He circles your clit gently with his thumb while he does, and you start to shiver against him. Eventually, the sting subsides, and the only notice you give him is the stretch of your thighs and the shallow cant of your hips upward to meet his. His kiss falters for a moment, and the hand on your thigh tightens in surprise, but he doesn’t ask any more questions.

When he snaps his hips a little roughly, you know he’s gotten the message. You focus on breathing while he rocks his hips, pursing your lips to keep from moaning too loud. He’s breathless over you, and you’re secretly amazed to see him like this — brow furrowed and lips parted, eyes flicking between yours and then shutting briefly before finding you again. You’ve never seen his expression so unguarded before. 

There’s a quiet sound that vibrates in his throat every time his hips meet yours, and you find yourself wanting to hear it properly. So you card your fingers through his hair and kiss him, whispering his name against his lips and rocking your hips up in time with his. You hear it then, clear and perfect.

“Oh- fuck- ” Tsukki groans loudly, his hand sliding urgently along the sheet in search of you. His fingers interlace with yours and latch on tight. “You feel so good-” He drops his head to your shoulder, lips hot on your throat. “God-” He laughs pathetically. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much of a mess.” 

“Tsukki,” You whisper, feeling something below your navel twist and tug. “Tsukki-I’m- mm-” You wriggle, arching your back and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please-”

“Are you close, princess?” His voice is teasing, but you can see in the way he lifts his head, eyes searching your face frantically, that he’s eager. When you nod, his face melts into a kind of affection you’ve never seen from him before. He smiles, eyes flicking down to your mouth, and nods. “Okay, baby. Close your eyes.” 

You whimper, doing as he says and immediately feeling him shift over you. His hand falls between you, fingers swiping ever so gently over your clit as his hips start to bump against yours with a little more force. You cry out, hearing the headboard slam against the wall over and over again. 

“ Tsukki! ” You cant bring yourself to care anymore how loud you are, your breath coming too fast now and your reservations slipping the moment you hear him moan your name. 

“You look so pretty, Y/n-so pretty like this.” He pants, his hips starting to stutter and his cock twitching inside you. The tugging in your navel worsens and peaks, and you moan his name again. He groans at the sound. “You take me so well- fuck . Feels like you were made for me.” 

You gasp, feeling yourself being pulled to the edge. “Tsukki, I’m-” You shudder, fluttering around him, and he starts to breathe hard against your skin. 

“Come on, baby. Let me feel you come around me.”

Your hands tighten on his hair, and you’re distantly aware of Tsukki pushing his lips to yours heatedly as you’re starting to scream. He swallows the sound, moaning as he spills into you, his hips faltering and then stopping against yours. 

You stay that way for an unknown amount of time, your heart beating in your throat, ears, core, and everything else while you come down. Tsukki kisses you with languor, his teeth nipping softly on your bottom lip as he sighs against you. You swallow thickly, whispering his name after a moment. 

“Hi,” He whispers back, slowly lifting his head. You scratch your nails on his scalp, and he blinks down at you sleepily. “You okay?” 

You giggle. “Guess we’ll see in the morning.” His lips pull into a small smile, eyes tracing your features. You kiss him once, mumbling ‘ should we clean up? ’ against his lips. 

He barks out a laugh, nodding. “Stay here.” He lifts off you slowly. “I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t find it in you to be shy about him seeing your body now, feeling all too safe and drifting quickly off to sleep, before he’s even back from the bathroom.

—

It’s still dark outside when you roll over, wincing as you stretch. You reach over for Tsukki, but your arm hits the bed instead. A noise of confusion leaves you, and you lift your head, blinking in the dark.

He’s sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist and his arms wrapped around his bent knees. 

“Tsukki?” You mumble. He doesn’t seem to hear you, so you sit up, realizing with a quick glance that you’re wearing the t-shirt he’d had on before and your panties. He must have cleaned you up and dressed you. “Tsukki,” You try again, touching his arm.

He starts, turning to look back at you. “Oh. Hi.”

That’s all he says. 

You pull your hand off of him, something unknown coming between you. “What’s wrong?” 

He just swallows hard and shakes his head, scooting toward you. “Nothing.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and tries to guide you back down, but you brush him off.

“Tsukki.”

He stares. You stare back. He looks away and runs his fingers through his hair roughly. 

“I don’t know if we should have done that,” is what he says. The words are whispered, but they echo in the silence. 

You think you might throw up. 

“What?” 

“I just-“ He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Don’t get me wrong, okay-”

“Then don’t say something wrong, Tsukki.”

“Y/n, we were drunk-”

Oh. 

You blink, scooting away from him slowly. You pull the blankets up to your chest, staring at nothing. He watches you, shaking his head. 

“Y/n, just let me talk please. Don’t overdo this-”

“Don’t overdo this?” You ask, eyes wide as they land on him. “I just lost my virginity to you, and you can’t even wait two hours before trying to make your escape.” 

“ No- “ He shakes his head, trying to move toward you, but you stick your foot out, stopping him. “Y/n, no. I’m just-I mean, we’re not even together-”

You flinch back at that. He sees it, and regret crosses his face. His mouth opens, but you cut him off.

“Were you dating every girl you’ve ever fucked?” 

“No, but-“ He laughs. “You’re not every girl. You know that.”

“No, I thought that,” You say, finally standing from the bed and backing away toward the couch. “But you’re treating me like I’m trash that you haven’t figured out how to throw out yet!” 

“No, I’m not!” He stands too, staying at the end of the bed. He seems to have realized you don’t want him near you. “I just wish we had done things right -” 

“I thought they were right!” You snap. “That felt right to me, Tsukishima.”

“You know what i mean -”

“What do you want?” You throw your hands out. “What are you trying to gain from doing this? Tell me.” 

“God, I’m just telling you what’s going through my head!” He tangles his fingers in his hair, tugging in frustration. “We aren’t together, and we were drunk, and I didn’t want this to be-” He shakes his head, and you get the feeling the rest of that sentence was important. But he’d stopped talking, which means he’s not willing to share it with you. So you just watch, refusing to push him for it, because you need to see what he does on his own. 

“I’m just confused,” He finally mumbles. “I don’t know where to go from here. This wasn’t right.” 

You stare, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes. But you just start to laugh, even though your vision is getting blurry. 

“You’re confused? ” Your laughter is shallow, pained. “You always told me to stop getting in my head about this — about us — and now you’re the one who’s confused ?!” 

“We should have-”

“You told me to do whatever I feel is right-“ You snap. “-and now that I have, you’re confused ?” 

“We didn’t talk about any of this!” He yells, shaking his head. “We said we wouldn’t have sex, so we never talked about what this would mean-”

“Yeah! I figured maybe that part could wait until after!” You scoff. “You know, we could have just talked about what comes next in the morning , but you decided to be confused and overthink and ruin this.” 

He looks like he wants to argue, his face pinched with stress, but you just rub at your brow, breathing hard. You feel sick.

“This is why I wanted rules,” You mumble. “I knew this would happen.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and then-

“You knew what would happen? That I would fuck this up?” 

You meet his eyes, angry. “That you wouldn’t be able to find a way to let me down easy. That you would let me fall for you, knowing you were just going to cut me off at the end.” 

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I was doing.”

“No?” You point at the bed. “But you were so quick to think of how cut me loose.” 

His brow furrows in irritation. “ Why do you always think the worst of me?”

“Because you couldn’t even wait one night!” You scream. “You couldn’t just be happy with me !” 

He steps toward you, and you see in the moonlight that his walls have gone up. “I was not trying to cut you loose. And I have never lied to you . But you’ve always been so fucking resistant to the idea that I could ever be telling the truth.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, already turning away from you. “God forbid I tell you what’s on my mind and you actually take me seriously.” He meets your eyes evenly. “Maybe it’s you who’s looking for a way out.” 

The silence in the room is suffocating.

“Get out,” You finally say.

The door slams before you have time to process that he’s gone.

The tears finally spill, and your knees hit the floor just as the wailing starts. 

—

Kei throws the front door shut so hard that something falls off the wall in his foyer. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s tempted to start breaking more things. Thankfully, it’s late enough that no paparazzi were outside when he’d gotten here, or else it might have been someone’s camera on the ground again. Great way to celebrate his contract signing.

Yamaguchi wouldn’t appreciate coming home to a destroyed house, though, so he settles for stomping up the stairs hard enough that one of them creaks in a funny way when he lands on it. He slams the door to his room, too, and then he throws himself down on his bed and screams into his pillow.

He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He doesn’t know why he said it like that. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a mistake. How could any of tonight have been a mistake with you? He just wishes he’d told you how he feels about you before things had gotten out of hand. He wishes you would have known how he feels about you while you were trusting him with your body like that. 

Because then, maybe, you would have known while you were taking your shirt off that you were safe. You would have known, while you were in pain for those few minutes, that he would never hurt you. That he was trying his best, that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, that you would never have to pressure yourself to have sex because he would have been okay with stopping at any time. 

He wishes he would have told you he loves you.

Maybe then you would have known. 

But instead, you’d looked at him with betrayal in your eyes when he’d been stupid enough to stumble over his words. You’d taken him for all the things he’s always been, but never with you. You’d trusted him with everything, and then you’d closed yourself off in an instant, and he’d gotten frustrated because you wouldn’t hear him out. 

But how could he expect you to hear him out? How could he get mad that you’d retreated into your shell and locked him out? You’d only let him in for a minute, and he’d ruined it. 

He’s ruined this. 

Kei doesn’t remember the last time he cried, but he makes up for it now, his pillow soaked with tears by the time he finally drifts off to sleep. 

—

You spend the next day in bed, sobbing into Kiyoko’s shirt and ignoring the missed calls from Tsukki. And there are a lot of them. He calls back to back for an hour straight — Kiyoko finally has enough and answers for you, muttering ‘ the next time I see you, I’m going to curb stomp you until your teeth are gone ’ before silencing your phone and tossing it somewhere on the couch. 

You fall asleep sometime before the sun sets, Kiyoko’s fingers combing through your hair soothingly. You stir a few hours later and think you hear Kyoutani’s voice, soft and deep as he mumbles ‘ he wasn’t at practice today ’ and paces your floor quietly. You fall asleep again, your traitorous heart twitching as it realizes that Tsukki might not be okay, either.

The morning of the 27th, your eyes crack open, swollen and burning, to a knock at your door. You roll over, staring emptily at it, and then you climb out of bed, thinking it’s Kiyoko, and trudge to the door.

It’s not Kiyoko.

In his defense, his eyes are as red and swollen as yours feel. 

“Hi,” He croaks. You flinch at the sound of his voice. 

“What do you want?” You whisper. He’s holding a plastic bag from the store, and he holds it out weakly to you now. 

“I didn’t get to-” He swallows. “I should have taken care of you. After. I didn’t.” 

No. You didn’t.

You take the bag, peering inside. Some snacks, a pack of muscle patches, a couple electrolyte-replenishing drinks.

A box of Plan B, sitting at the bottom.

You stare at it emptily. “Who saw you buy this?” The last thing you need is the internet witnessing your heartbreak in real time.

“Management took care of it.”

You’re not sure you’re okay with them being involved, but it’s better than Tsukishima Kei being caught buying Plan B. 

You shut the bag, shoving it back at him. “Well, you can thank them for me, but I’ve actually been on birth control for years.” He blinks, taking it while staring dumbly down at you. You smile, your anger manifesting as cruelty. “So don’t worry about it, Tsukishima.” He doesn’t look so happy to hear his name used that way anymore. “I never intended to get pregnant and trap you in a loveless marriage for your fame and fortune.” 

His eyebrows furrow, and his frown cuts deep. “Y/n-”

You slam the door in his face. 

—

Kei doesn’t speak to you again until New Year’s Eve — until you literally have to speak to him, because he needs to text you about his contract signing.

His fingers shake while he sends it, letting you know that he’d be arriving to your place in a limo booked by the Frogs at 6pm, and then he sends you a picture of his ties, in case you want to match. You don’t respond, so he just picks the black one.

He’s terrified that you’ll decide not to go. Terrified. 

But even when you send him a thumbs up (still not responding about the ties), he doesn’t feel less terrified. He just sits at the edge of his bed and stares down at his phone, his heart ripping in his chest as he scrolls through your previous messages from the last few months. All of that — all of your excited texts and flirty memes, all of his thinly veiled affection. All siphoned down to nothing in a matter of days. 

He gets ready with trembling fingers, his eyes pricking with tears and then drying up as he shakes his head and blinks away every regret he’s ever had. He sits in the limo in anxious silence, watching it pull into your apartment, the lights flashing on the cameras outside. 

And then he wipes his eyes and draws his shoulders back, because, while the world inside has been falling apart under his fingertips, the world outside has been going crazy over the news of Tsukishima Kei going pro. 

He exits the limo and bows to a few reporters, waving politely as he waits for you. He doesn’t answer any questions, mostly because he doesn’t want anyone to get too close and see that he’s not okay. But then you come out of your apartment in a black ball gown that makes his heart wrench, and he has to fight tears again. 

You smile wide at him, your eyes crinkling and your face glowing as you walk down the steps to meet him.

“You that stunned to see me?” You ask, loud enough to be heard by the paparazzi. They laugh, and you laugh with them as you step up to him. Then you lift onto your tiptoes and press your lips to his in greeting, and he has to remember to close his eyes and act like everything’s fine, even though the feeling your lips on his makes him want to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. 

You pull away and turn to the cameras, waving quickly before ducking through the door he’s holding open. He waves, too, and follows you, the camera shutters loud behind him.

The inside of the limo is dead silent. 

You sit on the other side of the car, staring out the window as the driver pulls out to the street. Any evidence that you’d just smiled at him like he’s your world is gone. Kei just looks at you, every nerve in his body fighting to find something to say. 

Finally, after five torturous minutes, he swallows. “Y/n.”

“Don’t.” You don’t bother meeting his eyes when you speak. “Let’s just get through this. In the morning, we can ask Management how to break up without making you look bad.” 

His heart drops to the ground. “I don’t want to break up.”

You meet his eyes now. “I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He refuses to believe this.

“How would you know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t know. That’s why this terrifies him. 

“We’re not breaking up,” He croaks finally. 

You turn back to the window. “Let’s just get through this.” 

The ride to the Frogs’ gym is filled with a silence that certainly feels like he’s been dumped. 

—

“-ations to Tsukishima Kei for this amazing step into professional volleyball, and we welcome him with open arms to what’s certain to be a long and fruitful career.” 

Kei stands from his seat in the audience, shaking his coach’s hand firmly and bowing at the waist. The Frogs have opened the doors of their in-house conference venue – which is just a large ballroom – the back half filled with round tables and the front lined with a couple rows of chairs for the reporters. The room is capped on the far end by a podium, where his coach has just finished speaking, and a long table. There’s a chair labeled with his name there, in the center of the table, and there’s a stack of papers for him to sign. 

He moves there now, glancing up at the front row and finding you staring back. Your face is masked into a perfect smile, and your expression is filled with love and support as you watch him take a seat at a table filled with his coach, manager, captain, and a brand sponsor. 

But then you meet his eyes, and he can see how empty they are. 

He looks down at his papers, adjusting his tie nervously. The camera flashes are making him warm, and he can’t really hear what’s being said, so he follows his coach’s lead and turns pages when necessary and signs on dotted lines, again and again and again. He’s already read the terms of his employment — they’d emailed him the hundred-page document three days ago so that he could read it and negotiate benefits before the day of the signing. That’s the only reason he’s not more nervous about this moment. He just has to flip pages and sign whatever his coach points to.

The whole process only takes five minutes, cameras flashing away over his bent head. Before he knows it, he’s standing and shaking his coach’s hand again, and then he’s being hugged by his manager and captain and taking a photo with his brand sponsor. 

And then he looks at you, still sitting in the front row as reporters start to stand and approach him. 

It’s almost worse that your eyes are filled with genuine warmth this time. 

He answers a couple questions, but his eyes keep flicking back to you distractedly, and finally a voice speaks from the back – feminine and familiar and belonging to a reporter donning the Sendai Sports lanyard. 

“I think maybe Tsukishima would enjoy a moment alone with his girlfriend — We could move to the reception tables and continue our conversations there, perhaps?” 

Kei grabs his manager by the sleeve as the crowd is clearing and asks if it’s possible for the Frogs to hire Nariko as his PR rep. His manager looks up at him with surprise and says he’ll speak with her. 

When Kei turns again, you’re there. His heart jumps, and he slips his arm around your waist by habit, trying not to react visibly when you tense against him. 

“You asked to hire Nariko?” You say, setting a careful hand on his bicep. “That would set her up for life.”

“I know,” is all he says. Your eyes flicker with appreciation, and you step close to wrap your arms around his neck. He hugs you as tight as he can without making it obvious that he hasn’t seen you in days. 

“Congratulations,” You whisper in his ear. “I’m proud of you.”

A lump grows in his throat. “Thanks.” You dont respond, and he squeezes you, because he can feel you slipping away. “I’m sorry,” He breathes. 

“I can’t,” You say, stepping away. “It’s too late-”

“It’s not .” He’s starting to get desperate, the thought of you closing off to him forever pure torture. “It’s not too late-”

“Stop brushing off what I said.” Your brow furrows with annoyance, and his frustration bubbles for a moment too long.

“Why? You do it all the time.” He dips his head quickly so that the cameras don’t see the tension in his face, and he’s thankful your back is to them, because you’re outright frowning now.

“Let’s just get through this.”

“Would you please stop saying that?”

You sigh quietly, stepping close and running your hands over his shoulders in a way that appears affectionate to anyone watching. “Fix your face, Kei. I don’t want to talk about this now. Let’s just enjoy the evening, because you deserve to be appreciated for everything you’ve put into this.” 

He’s amazed at your ability to think of him, even now. 

“You put so much into this, too,” He whispers. You just smile bitterly.

“Yeah. And look where that got me.” 

He watches you paint a loving smile on your face as you take his hand and lead him toward the reception table occupied by his teammates and Management. He does his best to pretend, even though he feels like he’s losing a piece of his soul.

—

You lean forward on the counter, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

It’s amazing that you’ve been able to keep it together all night. You’ve clung to his arm and followed him around the room, talking to his teammates, to Management, to any reporters who had questions for you. You’ve spoken with a smile and a laugh and a twinkle in your eye, and you’ve done your best to hide how much it hurts to be close to him. 

To the smell of him, clean and warm and filled with home . To the feel of him, secure and safe as he holds your waist and kisses your cheek appropriately. To the sight of him, perfect and golden and made of everything you’d fallen in love with.

It makes you sick, looking yourself in the eye and knowing you’d been lying the whole night. Especially with Kyoutani watching you like a hawk, eyes full of blatant concern. And with various members of Management quietly asking if you’re feeling okay, if there’s ‘ anything else ’ you need.

You shake it off, drying your hands and fixing your hair with a quiet sigh. Only a little more, and you can retreat to your dark cave of wallowing.

Straightening your back, you smile at yourself in the mirror and turn, leaving the bathroom and making your way down the hallway back to the reception room. 

You hear him before you see him.

“ -the fuck did you say to me? ”

No. No way. He wouldnt.

There’s nervous laughter that follows, and you speed up to get to him before he says something else. 

“ I’m just saying- ” You don’t know the voice well, but you think it belongs to one of the only super young reporters at the event today. “ -now that you’re officially pro, you might consider transitioning into a relationship that’s a bit more…. suited to your new lifestyle. ” 

You stop short, just shy of the corner.

“Someone a bit more pleasing to the public, if you will,” The man finishes, and you stare down at nothing. You struggle to recover, too many wounds opened too soon, one after another. But you know Tsukki can’t pick a fight, not here. So you lift your head and resume your trudge to the end of the hall, only to find Nariko staring back at you. 

She looks angry, and her eyes flick away from yours to stomp just out of view. Just as Tsukki’s starting to respond.

“Would the public find it pleasing if I were to beat your ass for talking about my girlfri-”

“Tsukishima,” Nariko cuts in. “It’s great to get some one-on-one time with you.” You hear the other reporter gasp and stumble, and you’re guessing Nariko’s pushed him out of the way. 

Tsukki sighs at her. “Thanks for th-” 

He suddenly appears in your eyeline, stumbling back a few feet, and you realize that she’s pushed him, too. You’re a bit impressed.

He looks affronted for a moment, but then your presence catches his eye, and he turns to you with wide eyes.

“Y/n-”

“As your new PR rep, Tsukishima-” Nariko says, stepping around the corner to face the both of you and create a bit of privacy. She winks at you when she calls herself by that title. “-I’d recommend not getting into a fight at a contract signing that only happened because you stopped getting into fights.” 

Tsukki has the decency to look ashamed, and you nearly hug Nariko. But she just looks between you before glancing over her shoulder. 

“You know… No one will notice if you’re gone for ten minutes.”

You don’t wait for any other signal, only wrapping a hand around Tsukki’s wrist and dragging him all the way down the hall to a storage closet. You throw him in and slam the door, whirling on him.

“Are you fucking insane?”

He points out the door, jaw slack in shock. “You heard what he said to me!” 

“Are you lacking self-control in every way?!” You throw your hands out. “This is your day , and you come that close to ruining it?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches as he stares at you, his eyes flicking between yours. “I won’t let people talk to me like that. Not about you.”

You stare back. “I won’t let you put everything on the line for me. You can’t ruin your own life for something stupid-”

“This isn’t stupid !” He explodes. “Everything before you was stupid!” He starts to pace. “I had a shit temper, and it was easy to bait me into a fight, and I would end up in the tabloids for the dumbest shit . And you helped me! You fixed me, just like I asked you to! I’m not the same guy I was before, Y/n. But this -” He points out the door. “ You ? I can’t do it.”

You breathe hard, shaking your head. “Then let’s end this.” When his eyes only widen, you swallow. “Let’s end this now. If I’m this much of a weakness for you, let’s make them stop talking about me. We got what you needed – I fixed you, like I said I would. Your contract’s secured. You can go back to dating girls that all look the same, and we can take some time apart so I can get over you, and-” You’d started to pull the door open, but Tsukki crosses the room in two strides and slams it shut again, his hand flat on the wood.

“Y/n.” His eyes are sharp, but you can see the fear in them. “I need you to stop running from me.”

“Then stop making me run.” You reach for the door again, but he won’t budge. You stamp your foot in frustration. “Tsukki! I’m doing everything I can to preserve this friendship, but I can’t keep doing this !”

“You’re not doing everything! All you have to do is fucking listen to me -” 

You back away from him into the room, shaking your head. “Why, Tsukki? So I can listen to you tell me that night was a mistake? That you ‘ never meant for it to get that far ’, that you ‘ wish things had been different ’? Well, so do I!” You yell. “I wish things had been different, too! I wish I would have known what you would do to me, so that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to go fall in love with someone who doesn’t love me back- ”

“ I do love you back!” He yells, strong and loud and full of anger. Your head snaps up, eyes finding his. His gaze is furious and hurt, and you can’t say you’ve ever seen him look at you like that before. It makes your heart ache and your chest tighten, the way his lip wobbles once before he clenches his jaw and fixes it. 

“...What?” You finally say, your breath caught in your throat.

“I love you back. You stupid fucking girl.” He sounds tired. Exhausted, really.

You stare. “That was rude,” You whisper weakly. He just laughs, but it sounds like he’s near tears. He hasn’t sounded like that since high school, since that fight on your doorstep. 

“Sorry, but that’s what you get with me.” He reaches for the doorknob, opening it an inch. “So now’s your time to back out.”

You stay right where you are. “Or what?”

The silence that follows seems to go on forever.

His eyes search yours, and the sliver of hope you see kills you. “What?”

“Or what, Tsukki? What do I get if I stay?”

He stares, unmoving. “You get me.”

You think you might cry.

You move to the door, watching the fight leave his eyes when he realizes you’re leaving. But you just put your hand on the door, nudging it shut. It clicks, and he stares down at you, confused.

“How long?” You ask.

His eyes flick between yours a moment as he processes your question. “I think it’s probably telling that I wanted you to be my fake girlfriend at all, Y/n.”

You blink, realization hitting you. “Did you know? This whole time?”

“No,” He laughs pathetically. “And Yamaguchi’s never going to let me live it down.”

“Why did you call that night a mistake?” You need to know, even if you’re not sure you want to hear the reason. It’s been killing you.

“I didn’t-” He sighs, rubbing at his brow. “I didn’t say it was a mistake. I said I wish I had done it right.” He meets your eyes, his own so close and golden and honest. You’d missed them. “I wanted to tell you I loved you first. Because I didn’t want you to worry that it was just a hookup.”

You hadn’t realized that his answer would drain you of all your energy. You slump, letting out an exhausted sigh. “And you couldn’t just say that?”

“Well, you couldn’t just listen .” He rolls his eyes, and you see a twinge of irritation in his brow. You laugh softly, and it worsens. “You think that’s funny, huh?” He says, staring down at you. “This could have all been avoided if you’d just heard me out, but you like to act insane.”

“And you like to say the worst things at the worst times!” You argue, half-laughing and half-angry. “Why couldn’t you wait until the morning? Why did I have to wake up and find you contemplating your whole life in the dark?”

“Because I felt guilty!” He snaps, and you’re taken aback, a little offended. He’d felt guilty for sleeping with you? “Because I was terrified I had ruined your first time by not doing it right and making this official between us beforehand. I hadn’t wanted you to be self-conscious the first time.” 

You find it in you to be a little appreciative of that. That he had wanted you to know how sure he was, that you were safe with him no matter what.

And also-” He rolls his eyes. “Not for nothing, but we were drunk, and I couldn’t tell if I was too rough, and I really hadn’t wanted to hurt you -”

It seems your moment of appreciation is over.

“ Why do you keep treating me like I’m fragile?” You bite. “You kept asking, over and over again, if I was okay. If I was sure I wanted to keep going. You were so careful with me, Tsukki – Get over yourself! I’m not going to break!”

He just stares. You realize what you’ve said. You remember who you’re talking to.

“Not gonna break, huh?” He mumbles, eyes flicking down to your lips. He seems like he wants to say something else, but he holds back. 

You don’t.

“Yeah. Want me to prove it?”

You watch in real time as his eyes fill with understanding. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He says, eyes flicking between yours. You start to argue, because he’s doing it again , but he cuts you short. “With me? So soon?”

Oh. 

He must not realize how badly you’ve missed him. How much it’s hitting you, now that you understand what had gone wrong between you. That you’d been stupid. That he’d been stupid.

Would it be wrong to rile him up? Probably.

“Why, Tsukki? You got a lot to take out on me?” His eyes flicker dangerously, and you take a single step closer, craning your neck back to look at him. “You got your work cut out for you. Apparently, I’m not good at listening.”

His resolve goes out the window, and he dips his head low, lips brushing yours. Your soul aches for him. 

“ I can make you good at listening. ”

You smile. “ Well, you’re not gonna do it by being gentle. ”

He drags you out the door before you can even process that it’s been opened. He pulls you down the hall toward the back entrance of the conference venue, and you laugh, glancing back toward the main room.

“People are gonna notice that you’re gone, Tsukki-”

“I’ll make it up to them.” He hauls you outside, all but carrying you down the steps to the limo. There are no reporters out here, probably because they’re all inside, so it’s no issue for him to quite literally toss you into the back of the limo with reckless abandon. Your hands find him before he’s got the door all the way closed.

And then his mouth is on yours, and you feel all the things that had fallen out of place finally align again. His lips are warm and urgent, and your fingers are tight in his hair. He knocks blindly on the window separating the back from the driver’s side of the limo, and the car starts to move just as he’s pushing you down on the seat. You topple back, and Tsukki climbs over you, his mouth attaching to your throat.

“ Tsukki ,” You breathe, relief filling your lungs. He groans quietly, hands sliding your dress up your legs and over your thighs. 

“ Fuck, I missed you ,” He mumbles into your skin. “This is real, right? Not a dream?”

You giggle, your chest pressing up into his, and you feel him smile wide against you. “You saying this isn’t a dream come true, Tsukishima? I can leave, if you want-”

“God, I can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you,” He says, spreading your thighs and slotting himself between them. “How has your mouth not gotten you in trouble yet?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it,” You say, shrugging. “Might be too late, now. I’m getting pretty good at it.”

“Don’t complain when I break you,” He whispers before biting down hard on your shoulder. You moan loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth in embarrassment because the driver of this limo does not need to hear that. Tsukki laughs against you. 

“You asked me not to be gentle. Are you regretting it?” 

You shake your head furiously. Your stomach flips over and over on itself, and there’s that warm buzzing filling your skin that you’ve come to associate with him. 

“No?” He whispers. “You like it?” 

“ Mm- “ You wriggle under him, your dress sliding up as you push yourself against him. “Yeah-yes. Mhm .” 

His hold on your hips tightens. “Lucky me,” He responds, a little breathless. He uses his grip to drag you down the leather seat a little more, forcing your thighs open so he can press his hips against you. You moan quietly in his ear, feeling him against your core, already half-hard.

“Need you, Tsukki.”

“Yeah? Am I supposed to give it to you just because of that?” 

You get the feeling this night won’t be easy on your pride, but that’s okay. You think you might be desperate enough by the time you get home. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t be fair,” You whisper, and he snickers against your skin. 

“No, I don’t think it would. You’ve got a lot to make up to me.”

“How do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Patience, sweetheart,” He murmurs. “I don’t plan to do anything until I have you in my bed.”

You whine, but you can also feel the limo starting to make the slow turn into Tsukki’s driveway. He sits you up, watching you fix your dress and smiling when your cheeks flush at the state of yourself. Your skin is hot, and your thighs tremble a little, and your hair’s come undone. And yet, Tsukki looks perfectly put together. 

You hide behind your hair as he helps you out of the limo and walks you to the door. Lights flash behind you, and you hear one of the reporters mumble ‘ I didn’t realize the event ended ’ to the person beside him. Tsukki starts laughing the moment his front door closes, and you groan loudly while trudging toward the stairs.

“They’re gonna know , Tsukki.” 

“You embarrassed?”

“Yes! Of course I am-” Before you can turn to him, you’re air-lifted over his shoulder. You start to scream, flailing while he takes the stairs to his room.

“Good. Then I want them to know.” He sets you on your feet by his bed, and you huff, fixing your dress.

You look around while he closes the door. You haven’t been here in ages, all of your time with him spent at your place. You turn slowly, taking in the familiar sight of his room. It’s so different being here, after all this time.

You’re so distracted by his room that you aren’t prepared for the fingers he puts on your forearm or the way he spins you toward him. 

You’re equally unprepared for the hand he plants on your shoulder before shoving you hard. You yelp, falling flat on your back and bouncing on his mattress. By the time you find his eyes, he’s standing over you, loosening his tie. 

His eyes are cold. “What do you want to apologize for first?”

“What?” You say dumbly, watching the tie come loose. His jacket goes next, and then his white dress-shirt.

“Which one, Y/n? Listening to too many people on the internet? Not believing me when I’d flirt with you?” He leans over you, his hands flat on the bed on either side of you. “Or not hearing me out that night? Causing this whole mess.”

“I didn’t cause that alone,” You argue, and his eyebrows lift with humor. 

“You’re still talking back?” He stands, reaching for the button on his pants. “Guess we’ll start here then.”

“Gonna put my mouth to use?” You joke, but there’s a rush of heat that, funnily enough, soaks your panties right through. You stare down at his hands, watching the zipper slide down and feeling your mouth water a little bit. 

“You ever done this before?” He mumbles, eyes trailing down your body hungrily as he hooks a thumb into the waistband of his boxers. You nod quickly, but he just raises a brow and lifts his other hand, still holding the black tie. “Like this?”

You stare, your heart thumping with excitement. “No,” You breathe. “Can’t say I have.”

He smirks down at you, beckoning you to him with two fingers. “On your knees.”

You scramble to kick your heels off and get into position at the end of the mattress. He stands over you and holds one hand out, looking down at you in amusement when you put both wrists in his hand. 

“You’re a bit eager.” When you nod, he just drops your wrists.

Your heart drops a little. “Wha-” You gasp, because he’s sliding the tie over your eyes and knotting it in the back, whispering ‘ So close, sweetheart ’ in your ear. You moan, your thighs sliding open on the bed.

“Pinch me if something doesn’t feel right,” He murmurs distractedly, and you hear the shuffle of his pants on his skin. “ Hard, Y/n. You hear me?”

“ Mhm . Pinch,” You say, panting slightly. When he laughs, your panties start to stick to your skin.

“God, you want this so badly, don’t you?” The tip of his cock touches your lips, and you dart your tongue out right away, swirling it around the head. Tsukki sighs heatedly over you, and then his fingers tangle in your hair. “My own personal little whore.” 

You groan, trying to take him in your mouth, but he uses his grip to hold you back. 

“Say please.”

Your stomach flips hard, because you know ‘ please’ wouldn’t be enough.

“Please, Tsukki,” You whisper. “Make me your whore.”

He inhales sharply, and you decide right there that you want to hear him fall apart. When he touches your lips again and tightens his grip, you know you have no control here. So you just let your mouth fall open.

The first time he slides into your mouth, his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He chuckles. “Thought you wanted it rough.” You recover as quickly as you can, breathing deep through your nose and sucking hard when he pulls back. He groans under his breath and thrusts his hips again, humming when you take him properly. “ That’s it, Y/n. ” He pulls you off of him for a moment, and you whine quietly. “Can you keep taking it like that?”

“Stop-” You croak, breathing heavily. “- fucking asking , Tsukishima.”

There’s silence over you, and then he yanks your head back, talking right over the yelp you let out. “If you say so.”

You get no more chances to recover, your breath sputtered and coughed around him as he sets a pace that stings. You moan loudly while he fucks your throat, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth and falling to your chest. Your fingers twitch on his thighs, and, after a few moments listening to the soft groans he lets out over you, one of your hands moves down to your thigh and slides to your core. You barely get two fingers on your clit when his voice bites out.

“ Don’t -” He snaps. “- even think about it .” 

You whine around him, earning a particularly hard thrust that slams against the back of your throat. You latch onto his thighs again, digging your nails in.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” He pants. “Not so fucking annoying. No choice but to listen.” You nod shallowly, unhinging your jaw a little more, until it hurts. He moans quietly. “Maybe you’ll listen when I tell you how pretty you look like this, baby. So fucking pretty, drooling all over my cock.”

Your whine is loud this time, and he laughs breathily. “You like that? Didn’t know you were into this, sweetheart – good to know.”

And then he pulls you right off him, your gasps echoing in his room. You cough, your chest heaving, but he doesn’t give you more time than that, his hands on your shoulders again. You’re less shocked when you’re shoved onto your back, and you’re too busy catching your breath to do much more than moan when he takes your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed.

Tsukki hooks his fingers into your panties and rips them down your thighs, laughing cruelly. “Aw, look at you. You’re a mess just from that?”

You dig your fingers into his comforter, still blindfolded. “You’re an ass- mm! ”

Tsukishima Kei’s just stuffed your own soiled panties in your mouth.

“Still talking too much,” He mutters, and you hear something hit the floor. You only realize it’s his knees when his fingers grip your thighs hard enough to bruise and his tongue flattens over your clit.

You scream, muffled, and arch your back on the mattress. Your fingers fly into his hair just as he’s dragging his tongue over your folds a second time, but he pulls away. He bites down hard on your thigh, ignoring the jolt of your body. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” Your fingers cling to the covers again, and it takes everything in you not to grab him when he spits hard on your clit. “Better.” 

He eats you out like that, his face buried between your thighs as you scream and moan and nearly make your fingers go numb from how hard you fist the blankets. You have no clue how long it’s been or when it had happened, but you realize eventually that he’s slipped two fingers into you, curling and spreading them against spots you didn’t even know existed. Your body twitches when he pushes up against your g-spot, and you grind your hips up toward his mouth unconsciously.

You pay for it immediately, his mouth and fingers leaving you. You start to complain, but it’s turned into a scream when his hand comes down hard on your overly sensitive clit. 

“I really do have my work cut out for me, huh?” He pants, breathless and raspy. “You’re a lot of work, sweetheart.” Your eyes prickle with tears, and you shake your head hard. He huffs out a laugh, breath cold on your heated core. “No? You’re not a lot of work?” When you shake your head again, he coos at you condescendingly. “You promise to be good?” You nod, and he laughs again. “Okay, then. Spread your legs for me.”

You peel your aching fingers off of the blankets and hook them around your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing your knees toward your chest until it starts to hurt. You hear Tsukki’s pants hit the floor, and he groans openly down at you.

“God, you look so good like this,” He mutters under his breath. “Can I take a picture?” 

Your heart jumps. You’d always thought you would never be comfortable with something like that, but the thought of Tsukki having a picture of you on his phone – a picture of you looking like this – has you clenching hard around nothing. You nod firmly, unconsciously pulling your thighs open even further.

He lets out a surprised breath, and then you hear him scrambling for his pants on the floor. “ Fuck- ” He hisses, throwing things around, and you hear the thump of his phone hitting the rug under his desk. “ Fuck, fuck- ” You start to giggle, the sound muffled but still audible. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, you fucking asshole – I wasn’t expecting you to say yes-”

Your laugh is loud now, but when you hear him stumble back over to you and feel his hand on the underside of your thigh, your stomach flips and your breath cuts short. The camera shutter goes off, and goosebumps break out over your skin, a soft moan leaving you. 

“You’re into this too, sweetheart?” He asks, laughing to himself. His phone hits the bed somewhere beside you. “You like when I take pictures of you?” You nod, your face flushing hard, but he slides his cock through your folds before you have time to be embarrassed. You moan, feeling the tip bump up against your clit with each shallow thrust. “Maybe one day we can film it.”

You moan wantonly, and his own moan joins yours as he sinks into you in one slow thrust. Your breath leaves your lungs as he pulls back and slams his hips into yours. “You took me all at once, baby,” He groans, anchoring himself to your hips. “You must have missed me.”

You nod desperately, and you feel his weight drop over you on the mattress. His fingers hook gently into the blindfold, despite how roughly his hips collide with yours, and he tugs the material up to your forehead. You blink rapidly, squinting when the light hits your eyes and trying to readjust while Tsukki drives his cock into you.

When you finally do gain your bearings, the first thing you find is him. Your eyes lock with his, and your own widen drastically as you take him in. His face is flushed, a sheen of sweat glinting off his skin. His eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, and his arms are flexed as he drags you down to meet him halfway with each thrust.

Your eyes roll back into your head almost immediately, the sight too much to handle while he fucks you. Your moans come out louder now, and – although you’re still muffled – you’re infinitely glad you’re not doing this at your apartment, surrounded by thin walls and neighbors. Here, you can moan as loud as you want. Here, you don’t have to care about the way his headboard slams against the wall. Here, you can arch your back and scream his name, over and over again around your panties.

He hears it the third time it comes out, the syllables of his name garbled but clearly his. His expression changes, those furrowed brows creasing even more and his lips parting as he lets out a series of quiet moans every time he hears his own name.

“ Fuck, ” He says, letting your waist go and dropping down hard over you, his hands hitting the bed on either side of you. “ Fuck , Y/n. I love you-” Your vision gets blurry, and your eyes burn, but you only notice you’re crying when the tears stream down toward your ears. “Listen to you, screaming my name like that,” He pants, his hips stuttering for a moment. The realization that he’s close to finishing sends you hurtling toward your own orgasm. “So fucking perfect. Fucking perfect for me.”

His fingers dig into the material in your mouth, and he pries it out, tossing the panties somewhere behind him. Your jaw aches, but you forget it when he meets your eyes. 

“Say it for me, sweetheart.”

“Tsukki-” You cry. “ Please, Tsukki- ” Your fingers itch to touch him. “Please, I love you – Can I-” You start to cry harder, your vision gone completely as you sob, the feeling of him slamming into you too much now. 

“Yes, baby, yes-” His breath hitches when you clench around him, and he nods tightly. “You can touch me-”

Your fingers fly into his hair, and you drag him down roughly, smashing your lips to his. You both moan, and you ramble deliriously against his mouth. “ Love you, I love you, I- ”

He shudders over you, groaning as he stills with his hips pressed tight to yours. He spills into you, his body shaking against yours as he fills you. The feeling of it throws you right off the edge, and you cry against his lips while you come, your back twitching and arching toward his. 

He’s collapsed onto you by the time you’re done, breathing hard in your ear. “ Fuck , Y/n,” He sighs. You wrap your legs tiredly around his waist, exhaustion taking you over.

“How did we do all that with my dress still on?” You whisper weakly, too tired to even smile when he starts to laugh.

“God, I love you. You’re so fucking stupid.”

That one does make you laugh. You feed off of each other, worsening until you’re both wheezing together. 

Finally, he buries his face in your neck, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart lurches. “For?”

“Everything,” he says. “ Everything, Y/n. For saying the opposite of what I meant. For not saying the things I wanted to.” 

You say nothing, just wrapping your arms tight around his neck. “I’m sorry, too. For not listening to the right person. And for thinking the worst of you just because I was scared.”

He stays quiet a moment, just breathing you in. “Does that mean you aren’t breaking up with me?”

You chew on your lip, suddenly nervous. “Does that mean we’re together?”

“I don’t think any of this was ever fake for me.”

You bring his face up to yours, kissing him deeply. “I don’t think it was for me, either,” You whisper against his lips. He smiles, pulling back to look down at you.

“Can I still ask you to be my girlfriend? My real girlfriend?”

You stare up at him a moment, and then your brow furrows. “I don’t think you ever asked me to be your girlfriend at all.”

He blanches. 

“Oh, fuck.”

You remind him of it for the rest of his life. 

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Cold Jax" Geechee!Erik Killmonger

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Black American Folktale.

Summary: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens is a Geechee wanderer and lover of big-legged women and good moonshine. On a trip to visit his favorite juke joint in 1940s Mississippi, he entertains a lover of sorts, Lulabelle, the juke joint owner and Madame of the nearby whorehouse. Erik battles two mythical creatures from Black American folklore, the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man in order to save Lulabelle and her establishment. The tale is told from the perspective of a ghost who was once Lulabelle's best friend.

Word count: 5.5K

"The winter time is coming

And it's going to be slow

You can't make the weather baby

it's dry long so

You betta come on in my kitchen

because it's going to be Raining outdoors..."

Cassandra Wilson – "Come on in my Kitchen" (Written by Robert Johnson)

There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people's pussy.

She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the "special ladies" house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin' and ice-cold beer havin' establishment.

And if it hadn't been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might've lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin' through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I'm gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain't been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all...

"Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?"

Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the "loving" rooms inside her special house.

"There's one bottle left," Ruth called out.

The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

For the men who didn't fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron's liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie's Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford's immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

He was coming too.

The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

Erik Stevens.

His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She'd dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

"I'll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle," Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn't maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peek out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

Lulabelle squinted.

"These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don't worry about it."

Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

"Eat your heart out, Joan," she muttered to herself.

She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn't get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled "Lula's". Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There'd be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

"What was that?" Honey Boy asked.

His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

"Sounded like something caught," she said.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A memory.

Being a young teen girl with...

No. Don't think of her. That was the past.

Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

"Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap," she said.

"Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week."

She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

"That sounded like death is on his way," Eva said.

The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

"Don't say that, Eva. It's just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—"

The shriek pierced the air again.

"Lord have mercy," Eva said.

The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

"See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let's get ready for tonight, y'all."

Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.

Pussy poppin' in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula's juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you."

He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray's hair pomade.

"Lemme get you a drink, Daddy," she purred.

"No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here."

He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

"Goodness gracious, you already hot down here," he whispered in her ear.

His finger swiped across Lulabelle's panties bringing her clit to life.

"Oh... there it is... my jewel," he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

"You gon' sweat my hair out already!" she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

"Get the fuck out," he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

"Out!" he barked.

Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

"Turn around."

The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

"You miss Daddy?"

"Yes!"

He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

"I missed this pussy... so much... taking me so deep!"

His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

"Take this dress off!"

He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

"Lula, shit... Lula..."

Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

"Big legged girl... mmmm," he groaned.

He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

"Daddy hittin' that bottom yet?"

"You in there... real deep, Daddy."

"Lemme get deeper..."

Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

"That's a good girl... let that pussy talk to Daddy's dick, Lula."

His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

"That's it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy."

He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

"God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula."

"You could," she said stroking the waves on his hair.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

"Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn't get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it."

She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

"She's in the room, y'know. Up there hiding in the corner."

"Don't say that, Erik. You know it scares me."

"If you did what I told you to do, she'd go away."

"As long as she don't start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost."

"Can you? Then how come you're scared?"

"She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her."

"A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out..."

"I can't. I can't do that to her. If she's just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little."

"If you say so."

"Let's not talk about her."

His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn't see the dead teenager at all.

"She mad?" Lulabelle asked.

"She loves you. It's why she stays around... floating from room to room... following you."

Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

"Don't look. Please."

Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room," Tweety Pie squeaked out.

"Give me a minute."

Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik's dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

"You ruined my panties," she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

"Don't need 'em, I'll be back inside of you soon enough," he said.

Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

"You look fine," he said zipping his pants.

Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

"Pardon us," Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.

Lulabelle sat on Erik's lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn't let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He'd become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He'd spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

"You bet not cum," he ordered with harsh breath.

"I won't, I promise," she insisted with clenched teeth.

She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn't seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

The man's face was long, and he had long teeth... and long fingers... and long legs... and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

"Lulabelle... Lulabelle..." the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik's. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

"Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don't go now, we'll chicken out!"

Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

"Dontcha see him, girl?" Lulabelle shouted.

"Oh, he's just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase-"

"It's the Plat Eye. You don't see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?"

"You so silly girl! Look at him... just a man tryna run like us."

"No!"

Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

"If you don't wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle."

"You don't see that monster right there?!" she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

The Plat Eye smirked.

"Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!"

"Elizabeth!"

An arm grabbed Lulabelle's elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

"Don't move, gal."

The voice didn't have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

"She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can't protect you."

Lulabelle didn't turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

"Elizabeth! Come back!"

"It's too late, Lulabelle."

"How you know my name?"

"I've seen you 'round here before with your friend."

She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

"Don't hurt me, Mister."

"Nah, I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

"She can't see what it is?"

"She see what she wanna see."

The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw...

Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik's legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle's arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

"Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me."

The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

"Should've known you'd be around here," The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle's neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik's gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

The man from the Crossroads.

The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

The Geechee Man.

"Ya don't play fair," The Plat Eye grumbled again.

"And?" Erik said.

Erik's firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle's pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

"This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—"

Lulabelle snatched up Erik's switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn't anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

"Put that down, Lula. It's not a toy to be played with," Erik said zipping up his pants.

The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature's arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

"Give her to me," the Plat Eye demanded.

Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

"Nigga you ain't getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place."

"There are rules!"

The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

"I make the rules," Erik said.

An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye's mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

"My man," The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

"Stay back!"

"Lula... c'mon, baby. I've been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?"

"No."

"I just give you good lovin' when I can."

"That's why you can't be with me all the time?"

He nodded.

"I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere."

Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

"Don't be scared of me, Lula."

"What are you... really?"

"Your man."

"You ain't no man."

"I'm no demon if that's what you're worried about."

"God forbid if I'd been fucking the devil."

"I'm no devil, girl. Far from it."

He stroked her face.

"Let's go to the back. I need you... right now."

His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to... to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn't anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

"Are there others?" she asked, "Others like you around here?"

"Always. But you don't have to worry about nothin'. You got me. No one fucks with me.'

"How come you didn't save Elizabeth?"

"She didn't want to be saved."

"But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?"

"She's still here. She'll never leave until you chase her on."

"Is she happy?"

"Like I told you, she loves you. If you're happy, she's happy."

"God won't punish me for being with you, will he?"

"She won't. I promise."

"What about me selling pussy and a little dick?"

"Not even on her mind."

Lulabelle smiled.

Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

"How many women have you seduced over the years?"

"You my favorite."

"That didn't answer my question.," she said putting a hand on her hip.

"You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?"

Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

Moonlight bathed Erik's face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

"Daddy needs to take care of you... oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again."

He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

"Elizabeth wants you to get all this," he said grinding against her.

"Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?"

"She already knows."

Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

That's their story, and I ain't tellin' it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon...

Part 2 "There's Some Whores in This House" HERE.

A.N:

This was a birthday story I wrote for @soufcakmistress back in 2021.

[amuseoffyre]

"I don't even know who I am"

What I have loved about the show from day one is that it has been an unflinching examination of identity and what makes it: the things that shape people into who they are and how that impacts on how they act and react to the world around them.

The exploration of Ed’s sense of self has been so beautifully handled and I know that if/when we get a third season, they’re going to do even more with it.

This is a character who has been raised with violence and cruelty his whole life, who was told “we’re just not those kind of people” when he yearns for something better, who killed to protect his mother, who ended up under the heel of a brutal tyrant of a captain who used sadistic punishments and death to keep his crew in line.

It’s the only life he knew and it’s the only option he sees himself as having. He has no concept of any other alternative until along comes Stede “there’s always another way” Bonnet and he’s fascinated. He even tells Stede as much the first time they met – “do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone doing something original out here? It’s impossible, man.”

Ned Lowe cements that fact in 2x06, describing Ed as a generic pirate and Ed immediately calls him out on the fact that he’s as messy as the rest of them even if he’s trying to act like he’s not, observing “It’s usually family stuff”. Stede even observes “A lot of your friends are troubled” and Ed fully admits “Yeah. Well. They’re pirates.”

There’s so much juicy meta to be had about the fact that Stede wants to desperately be a pirate and Ed doesn’t even catch that not only is Stede fully troubled but that it’s got Family Stuff etched all over it. He even says “you’ve got it all figured out”, but the Stede meta is for another day.

In S1, Ed’s in a pretty depressed space and finds a bit of a respite from it in Stede’s company. It lets him try out new things, things he didn’t think he was allowed/able to do, but he still follows a lot of the patterns of behaviour and actions that are standard in the pirate lifestyle that has been 80% of his lived experience.

He can switch violence on and off when he needs it (“next one goes through your fucking eye”), he doesn’t see anything wrong in talking about the violence he’s inflicted (“Well, this one time I was gouging an eye out of this lad’s skull”), he has a deep well of punishments that he can draw from (force-feeding body parts, mutilation, skinning, maiming) and all of these things are just so normalised for him that he’s desensitised to how horrific they are.

He’s still doing all those things while also telling stories, having fun, teaching people about fuckeries and generally being “more open and available than I’ve ever seen him”. He hasn’t wanted or needed to shed that side of his life because he’s getting the best of both worlds.

Only then Calico Jack pays a visit and ramps Ed’s behaviour up to 11 and this is the first time Stede – who is dealing with his own issues at the same time – says that there’s something wrong with the way he’s behaving.

Ed says to Stede, confused and stung, “This is who I am. This is me” when Stede points out all the behaviour he isn’t enjoying. And for him, at this point, this is him. This is what he’s grown up knowing and being. This is his lifestyle and part of the culture of the pirate community. We see it repeatedly when we see Ed encountering people from his past or in the Republic. It’s the frog-in-the-pot scenario. He’s been in the pot so long, he doesn’t know it’s been boiling the whole time.

Only the very next episode, at the academy, pared back to just be Edward Teach, born on a beach, he admits “I don’t know if I want to go back to the old days, drinking all day and forcing some bloke to eat his own toes for a laugh”. He’s been played and double-crossed by people who trusted him and he sees an alternative in Stede – “I’m your friend” Stede told him, and he wants that. He wants a friend he can trust. They can go off together, away from all that and everything’ll be fixed, right? That’ll make it all good.

And then…

And then we all know how that goes.

Briefly, very briefly he thinks he might be able to hold on to that different kind of thing, that softer, brighter world, but Izzy reminds him of the reality of their situation. That people he considers allies and friends can and will warn him to “watch his fucking step” and that this is not a world where he can let his guard down.

Either you’re part of that world or you die. Izzy said it as far back as episode 4. The only retirement they get is death. And so that’s the option Ed takes: either watch the world burn or die trying. Not like he can have anything else. For ever and ever, trapped in his life and world he has come to hate.

He sinks him into the worst of it to try and end things faster. He’s crueller. Relentless. Brutal. And no one seems to care that he’s shattering under the weight of it, until he forces their hand and goads them into killing him or letting him kill all of them.

Izzy says “we did this to him” to Stede, but neither of them seem to realise how much deeper Ed’s hurts go. Yes, they both had an impact on Ed, knocking away his sense of place and self and acceptance, but the wounds are far older and far deeper than they know.

It’s only when Ed is first forced to confront himself in the unsettling not-reality of the gravy basket that he takes the first step in understanding himself better. He’s forced to face the stuff he’s done and the worst parts of himself. He even tries to kill them, over and over again, until he realises.

I find it especially interesting that Buttons describes getting out of purgatory as “escaping”. That this is a place where you’re flayed down to the bones and forced to face the worst parts of yourself.

It’s so vital that he – and Stede – have the encounter with Anne and Mary. He’s reminded of the world that he was part of and the casual brutality that came with it. He’s shown that he and Stede could easily fall into those patterns, but instead Stede offers him honesty, comfort and the assurance that he is loved.

“A lot of your friends are troubled” Stede observes after and Ed admits that yeah, they’re pirates. He recognises that this is part of the social culture he grew up in and that it’s still impacting on him now.

But what happens next is so sweet and important. Buttons talks to him of learning to change, that nothing is fixed and that if you want to, you can change your path. And then Buttons shows him it’s possible and Ed’s face just lights up. Yes, brother. Fly. You can change things. You can choose another way.

Only it’s not simple. It’s not straightforward. With the probation period, Ed looks for quick fixes – offers to let Lucius push him overboard to get it over with and the like – but part of him still doesn’t quite get why some of the stuff he did was wrong because it was so normalised to him.

It takes Fang saying “I was terrified” to make him see it and coming from someone who has been with him for 20 years, realising someone else from within his own world was terrorised by him brings things into focus for him. That the things he thought were games weren’t. That the stuff he told himself was normal in context absolutely wasn’t normal.

And this is where Ed’s entire world view pivots. Fang shows him how to sit with himself, how to reflect. Ed takes this lesson to heart and he’s still working through it, gazing out to sea and thinking about it at the beginning of episode 6. He goes from never apologising for anything as a captain to telling both Fang and Izzy quiet, but meaningfully, “I’m sorry”.

He’s known for a long time that he’s tired of piracy, but the Ned Lowe situation is the thing to put the final nail in the coffin: this man hunted him down because of his pirating. This man hurt them all because of it. And worst of all, Ned took the man Ed loves and pushed and provoked him until Stede killed him. This was Ed’s “you defile beautiful things” moment. His face in those scenes, when he said “don’t do it, you can’t come back from this” is a call from his own experience. Stede is taking that step onto a path that Ed desperately wants to get off.

That night makes the decision for him.

The next morning, his leathers go overboard, a symbolic end to Blackbeard (and I will yell another day about him putting the proverbial beast back under the waves. Ed and his sea metaphors are gnawing me alive) and he’s happy about it, humming and hurrying back down to join Stede in their bed.

Stede doesn’t notice, though. Stede never would notice something like that being important because for him, Ed is Ed. Whatever he wears, whatever he does, he is Ed. A change of clothes doesn’t change him in Stede’s eyes.

But other people notice. Hell other people not noticing Blackbeard and only seeing some hobo dude is such a change. There’s something so significant that the people he chooses to talk to about it are the old guard in his field. He tells Jackie “it’s not a phase” and Izzy that it felt “fucking great” and both of them get it. Both of them have been there, seen it, experienced it.

Only it happens as he’s seeing Stede become what he used to be, stepping into the space he’s willingly leaving, and Stede is so happy about it. And he’s happy for Stede to have his moment and be appreciated, but it just throws into stark relief that this is absolutely not what he wants or needs right now. He still has a lot of figuring out to do and unfortunately, they’re both highly-emotional people and when they’re emotional, their communication goes down the toilet.

Once upon a time Ed said “this is who I am, this is me” to Stede, when he was acting exactly like Stede is now: raucous, drinking, chaotic and loud. Only time and reflection has let him see that wasn’t necessarily him but the environment and his circumstances shaping him to be like that, just as it's now making Stede act that way.

“I don’t even know who I am,” he admits in this argument. “I’m not ready for whatever this is”. He knows he has a lot more to figure out and because he’s latched on so hard to fishing as a place to be quiet and contemplate, that’s why he runs there. He wants to work himself out without the weight and pressure of the pirate world breathing down his neck.

Only he doesn’t talk about it, he doesn’t explain, he just tells Stede he’s leaving and Stede immediately sees it as something he’s said/done, rather than something that Ed is trying to figure out. They both hurt each other because Ed has always worried that Ed isn’t enough – the loss of the beard still weighs on them both – and that Stede is only humouring him to get Blackbeard, while Stede is so convinced that being a great pirate will mean he and Ed can be together as equals instead of him being a bumbling amateur who isn’t worthy of the man he loves, only to see it slip through his fingers.

They both need to talk to each other, but they don’t know how. Ed’s made quick, rash decisions, but they’ve come on the back of a lot of reflection and he just didn’t explain it. He’s right that he doesn’t know who he is himself. He’s never had the chance to just… take the time and figure it out. He needs that time, but they just don’t have it right now and they end up hurting each other more because of it.

I’ve said from the beginning that both of them are coming from opposite ends of the spectrum and that they’re destined to meet somewhere in the middle. Ed got his fantasies of a fancy life shattered in season one and now, Stede is seeing the impact of his pirate fantasies on the life he made for himself in season two.

Both of them are on the edge of a catastrophe curve, misunderstanding each other’s motivations and totally at odds with who they are versus who they have been told they need to be. They will get there, but two little lost boys finally taking off the rose-tinted glasses and dealing with the mess that they have carried with them their entire lives isn’t easy.

And I will fully admit I am loving it.

[thornsnvultures]

anywhere || eddie munson x plus size!reader

cw: angst, talking about drug usage, eddie's in the hospital post-vecna, your mom kinda fuckin sucks, best friend!eddie who likes you more than you realize

a/n: that one line in the muppet babies theme song fucks me up every time. literally every time I hear it I tear up. so thanks for that jim henson.

-----

"When your world looks kinda weird and you wish you weren't there," Eddie's terrible Kermit impression makes you laugh so hard you almost spill the bowl of cereal you're pouring. You hit him back with your equally terrible baby Miss Piggy voice.

"Just close your eyes and make believe that you could be anywhere!"

Eddie snorts at the way your voice cracks trying to hit notes your voice was not made to hit.

"Shut up, that was flawless and you know it," you hand Eddie his bowl with a grin and plop down on the couch next to him. Were you watching cartoons made for children? Yes, but who didn't love Kermit the Frog and his adorable little muppet friends?

You missed this, being here with Eddie. A lot had changed since you started going to college last year while Eddie stayed behind to be a senior for a third time, but not this. Your friendship never changed. It was something you treasured coming home to, when you could. School was starting to pile up and these visits were becoming few and far between, but Eddie would always be your Eddie. You were sure of it.

"So you're leading up Hellfire now, huh?," you asked Eddie as you finished your cereal. He took your bowl and put it on the coffee table with his, not meeting your eyes. Maybe you shouldn't have brought it up. The two of you didn't talk about it much, him still being in school. Like you didn't want to break the spell that everything was normal. The two of you hanging out like normal, like you did since you were kids. It was comfortable, you didn't want to ruin that.

"Yeah the, uh...yeah. It's up to me now I guess. The guys know they can't compete with my campaigns."

He's smiling, all cocky because it's true, they're always amazing. But his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Weren't your just saying nothing had changed? Maybe you a lot had changed and you just weren't paying attention.

"I miss adventuring with you," you sigh, snuggling into Eddie's side until he puts his arm over your shoulder. "And the guys."

"Yeah, they miss you too," Eddie's voice sounds strained. You try to move thinking you're laying on him in a weird way, but he just pulls you closer, tighter.

You spend the rest of the morning watching cartoons. Eventually you forget the weird tension, putting it aside to enjoy your day with your best friend before you have to leave again.

-----

It's a year before you see Eddie again.

School was tough, taking up so much of your free time you barely saw anyone besides the librarian and the two people you shared a dorm room with. You had tried to join a DnD club at school but your schedule didn't line up well with the rest of the group. And it wasn't the same. You missed Eddie's energy, his frantic dramatics. The guys were cool but sticklers for rules and, to put it nicely, boring.

You couldn't take being away from home any longer, you missed your friend.

So when your mom called one Friday afternoon and told you, in her own bizarre and nonchalant way, that Eddie had been in some trouble recently and, "I'm sure you saw the news about the earthquakes," you came straight home.

"You know, I always thought he was a nice boy. Did you know he was selling... grass," your mom whispered the last word like police officers would be knocking down her door if she spoke too loud.

"I didn't." You did. You also partook, but your mother didn't need to know that.

"Anyway, everyone got all upset when that little cheerleader died, but when they found him, like that, I guess they thought he was a victim too. Can't maul yourself like that, that's for sure."

"Oh my god, mom," you stand up, your chair harshly scraping against the linoleum. You can't sit here and listen to this any more.

"Where are you going? I have a pie in the oven."

Your mom follows you to the door, huffing like you're the one being ridiculous. She never liked Eddie much but the ease with which she talks about your childhood best friend being... mauled...

"I'll be back later."

You don't wait for her to respond, slamming the door as you go. You hop in the hand-me-down car your dad gave you before you left for school, peeling down the drive and heading straight for the hospital like you should've done when you got back. Tears cloud the edges of your vision until they spill over, you don't bother wiping them away.

-----

"Hey, you're Eddie's girl."

"Excuse me?"

A short, curly haired boy in a baseball cap appears next to you when you ask the receptionist where Eddie's room is located.

"It's okay, Brenda. She's with me." You snort out a laugh when the boy tips his hat to the woman behind the desk. Her smile and the wave of her hand tells you she is in fact used to this.

"I'm Dustin," the kid explains as you follow him through the maze of hallways and elevators. "Eddie's told me a lot about you. Recognized you from the picture he thinks I don't know about in his glove box. Not my fault he just shoves stuff in there. If he didn't want everything to spill out he should organize. Not that I'm great at organizing either-"

"I'm sorry," you stop Dustin's rambling, your head spinning from all that information, narrowing in on the one that stuck. "He keeps my picture in his van?"

"Yeah a few in his room too. He's just down here. You just missed the guys, Jeff had to go to work and he was their ride so they left. Wayne will be in later. He usually stops by after work."

Dustin kept talking and you tried to keep up but the closer you got to Eddie's room the more your ears rang and your chest felt tight. You knew it was bad, he'd been in for a few days and was still heavily sedated after a number of surgeries. Wayne told you the day before you came back on the phone that he might not be awake when you got here. The old man might've been trying to spare you the trip, but you were coming to see him no matter what. You should've come back a long time ago.

Standing outside his room now, the year you were away felt like an eternity now. How had your Eddie changed? Was he your Eddie anymore? Was he ever yours?

"Hey, you comin' in? He's still sleeping."

Steeling yourself with one deep breath, you enter Eddie's room. With one look at Eddie and you're asking Dustin for a minute alone, pulling up a chair by his side.

"Sorry I'm late, Eddie. Traffic coming out of the city is crazy." You laugh at your stupid joke because you'll cry if you do anything else. You don't think about the air tube in his nose or the beeping heart monitor, the bandages on his arms or how hollow, how fragile he looks.

"My mom said you've been selling 'grass'," you chuckle as you twist one of his curls around your finger. "Should I tell her how many times I snuck out to smoke with you? She's already mad at me for taking time off from school to be here."

Eddie lays there as you talk, sleeping softly as you compliment the cards and flowers on the window sill. You tell him how the past two semesters of school have been, how miserable you've been without him, how guilty you've felt for "missing" his calls, not reading his letters because you've been too exhausted to do anything that wasn't surviving and work.

You're holding his weirdly ring-less fingers, contemplating leaving instead of holding out hope that he'll wake up while you're here, when you hear a familiar theme song on the television.

"When your world looks kind of weird,"

Your gaze falls from the TV to your friend in his hospital bed.

"And you wish you weren't there,"

Your eyes close wishing you were back in Eddie's house, stoned out of your mind doing muppet impressions.

A tear falls down your cheek as you close your eyes and sing along with Miss Piggy, not caring how ridiculous you sound.

"Just close your eyes and make believe and you can be anywhere."

You choke on a sob, suddenly angry at this stupid kids show for making you lose it when you were holding yourself together so well.

"Still sounds awful."

You open your eyes, wiping your tears away with your hand not in Eddie's at the groggy sound of his voice. He's holding the other one tight, almost too tight, like you'll run if he lets go.

"That was a perfect impression," the words stutter on a heaving breath but you're smiling through it.

"I'm on so many drugs."

"I'll go get the nurse," you laugh, trying to pull yourself together.

"No," Eddie just barely tugs on your hand, not yet strong enough to pull you close. "Don't leave."

"I'm not, I won't. I'm here, Eddie. I'm sorry."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, too tired yet for a full conversation, but he won't let your hand go. You find the call button next to the bed to call the nurse and wait.

"I'm not going anywhere."

---

--

-

🖤

[cafulur]

(Boyf riends) First Meet/College AU

I have been writing up this au for a while and decided to finally share a few bits, please let me know if you’d like to hear more!! ♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- Jeremy and Michael have never met before and are attending the same university for their freshman year.

- Michael had come to terms with his queer sexuality during high school, but Jeremy hasn’t thought too hard about it, always considering himself mostly straight with the occasional fictional male crush.

- Jeremy didn’t deal with the SQUIP situation in high school, but he definitely had a massive falling out drama with all the popular theatre kids. Christine has been a constant best friend for him through it all. He’s had his ups and downs, but came out of the drama more comfortable with himself and the world around him. He doesn’t know anyone at this university but is excited to maybe make some new friends.

- Jeremy gets invited to a house party by his roommate who is friendly, so friendly, wants everyone to join in and shotgun a beer together, like a Rich energy. Omg. Rich is Jeremy’s roommate. 😭💛

- They go to this party and there’s probably 12-13 people there, one of which includes Michael who got dragged along by his roommate— WAIT what if Rich is Michael’s roommate instead and Jake is Jeremy’s?

- After some serious contemplation, Rich is Michael’s roommate and Jake is Jeremy’s. Jeremy doesn’t need much convincing to go to a party, so Jake energy is enough. Michael needs the convincing. All the convincing. He needs Rich for these additional friendships to thrive lmao.

- Jake ends up introducing all of them while hanging in the kitchen with Rich. Michael thinks Jeremy is cute but Jeremy at first isn’t quite sure what he feels for Michael. He just knows he’s super cool and finds himself strangely thinking about him even after they part.

- Maybe the week after the party while in class or something Michael’s face or laugh pops up in Jeremy’s head, and he just thinks man I’d wanna be near that dude again and maybe be actual friends. Casually mentions to Jake that he had fun and they should do a smaller, more casual get together. It’s really sweet, they all get takeout/fast food and watch some fucked up underfunded film. Michael and Jeremy sit side by side, and while Jer is engrossed, Michael finds himself sneaking glances throughout the movie to catch Jeremy’s expressive reaction.

- Rich, Jake, Jeremy and Michael stop by a 7/11 for gas and snacks one night. On the way out, Michael holds the door open for Jeremy who lagged behind the group while trying to open a blind box he just bought. Michael asks him what figure he got and revels in Jeremy’s excitement when he shows him a tiny frog with a bicycle helmet on.

- { Prior to their little moment, an attentive Michael waves Rich on ahead, simply saying “Jeremy’s still in line.” as his reason for staying behind. Rich watches from the gas pump he parked next to as Michael leans against a faded poster covered glass window and waits for Jeremy. He watches him proceed to hold the door open for a completely oblivious Jeremy, far too absorbed in the secrets he’s about to unfold with his blind box. Rich thinks hm. Hm. interesting. }

- Jeremy gushes about his prize later at the table of the Waffle House: “I got a skater frog!”

Rich squints, skeptical. “Where’s his skateboard?”

Jeremy looks around the table for a worthy substitution, going for a spoon from the silverware pile and perching the figure on top. “Currently M.I.A. but he’s got a helmet on so I assume some skating is happening.”

Rich laughs as Jeremy scoots the little amphibian across the table atop his silly new ship. “Skaters don’t wear helmets bro, he’s probably a cyclist or something.”

Jeremy protests, making the frog do a sick spoon flip. “Nah you don’t get it, he’s just a skater that cares about his life!”

Rich supports his cheek with his fist and sips his milkshake, watching Jeremy scoot the little dude across the table. “Laaaame!”

… Michael falls a little.

[milflewis]

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

Telepathy au pls

fic ask game

the way this isn't even an actual fic. let alone one that has deleted scenes. i don't think about it apart from when i'm like what should i write for mark lol. but! my forensic lecture was so boring yesterday that i spent the hour thinking about if it WAS a solid fic then what would be a scene i'd chew over and probably end up deciding nah this doesn't work or say what i am trying to have it say. so. long story short here is valtteri and george talking about fucking and being mind-bonded with lewis but fucking doesn't actually mean fucking or smth like that

"What?" 

Valtteri's voice is hammered flat and low. This is the time for George to brake. He is about to end up in the wall, missing the racing line, tyres spinning.

He keeps going.

“Did he have sex when you were, uh, bonded with him? Or be with anyone?”

It is a little embarassing that he stumbles over Valtteri being bonded with Lewis, and not, more normally probably, his teammate and friend having sex. George tries to be glad that he actually gets the question out at least semi-coherently this time.

Valtteri stares at him unblinking. It is a heavy thing, heavier even than Toto’s. His eyes really are blue, George thinks, a touch hysterically, blimey. 

He feels like he sometimes does after a particularly hot shower; raw and cooked and unpeeled at the edges, like a frog.

georgie, Alex texted him once, sick of George talking about sharing his mind with Lewis, or more accurately, sharing-but-not-sharing, it could be worse yeah.

And then: just think about it mate

Alex believes proper punctuation, or really, any punctuation at all, only belongs in things like job contracts and historical romance novels.

u could be paired w bottas

Oh, fuck off.

George remembers that now, blood gone cold.

Valtteri blinks. 

“Are you really asking me this?” 

George doesn’t think he’d understand Valtteri any better if he shared a mind with him. Not that he understands him at all now.

He can see Lewis laughing from inside the garage, surrounded by his mechanics. George and Valtteri are tucked away in a walkway leading off of it. Perhaps not the best place for a chat like this but the question, well chewed over, slipped out before George could help himself. When Lewis first spotted them, the sea in George’s head didn’t even ripple as Lewis made a questioning face at him. George only shrugged back.

“I just,” George starts, and then stops again. He is crossing a line, he knows he is, even if he doesn’t know exactly where or what that line is. This is something he should probably only be asking Lewis, if he is allowed to be asking at all in the first place. George’s head spins. His throat has gone dry. “You don’t.”

He inhales deeply, and lets it sit in his chest before breathing out. He does it again.

He glances over in Lewis’s direction to see him trying to make eye contact.

“I don’t get him,” George admits finally. It feels like he is showing Valtteri a hole in his chest and shining a light through. “I’ve tried – but, it’s just. He is just, I don’t know. Is he holding back because of – Is this how he is?”

The sea in his head wavers, shivering.

What George didn’t tell Alex is that sometimes it feels like he does share a mind with Valtteri. He isn’t sure someone could be in Lewis Hamilton’s head and not feel connected to Valtteri Bottas.

George knows he is crossing a line, mentioning this to someone other than Lewis, but this is Valtteri. He can hate it all he likes, covet it in a way that he wishes he never found out he was capable of, but it is true. When it comes to Lewis, Valtteri doesn’t really count. Or maybe, he counts for more, somehow.

George has never forgotten the sting in his hand after smacking that helmet, or the plane rides before and after. He once woke up two seats over from Valtteri with a blanket tucked around his knees, despite having fallen asleep without one.

“It is not you,” Valtteri tells him like that is not the best and worst thing George has ever heard. “Lewis isn’t.” He frowns here, careful. There is a slight colour to his cheeks.

George might actually be dying.

“This is not what Lewis does. He tried, I think, before, but it didn’t suit. He needs, um.” Valtteri rolls his eyes fondly. “It’s not about you. He is just Lewis. This is how he is.”

“Okay.” George clears his throat. “Okay, okay. Yeah, alright.”

“Alright,” Valtteri says, only a touch mocking.

“Yeah,” George continues, ignoring him. “I can work with that. Okay.”

Valtteri rolls his eyes again. George decides it is still fond.

[senka-mesecine]

Could you please headcanons for Chris Taylor I am so addicted to that little white boy

---

― Taylor comes off as entirely vanilla and he might've been at one vague point in time, during his college days, sometime before the war, but after it he's the furthest thing from it humanly imaginable and he's almost like a living, breathing posterchild for how first impressions might very well be deceptive; in fact, it is safe to say Chris himself might be fully aware just how many paraphilias, fetishes, kinks and unconventional desires he brought home with him in the first place, to the point that if asked about what he likes, his answer might just be the bashfully indistinct and an unclear 'Oh, you know.' So, to get us off started as a bit off a prologue --- he seems like his sexual appetites are just as suburban, commonplace boy-next-door-ish as he appears to be, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

― Goes without saying that Chris developed a bit of a taste for having sex while high or simply under the influence; and thing is, you don't even have to actively participate yourself. It's neither a plus nor a minus if you do or don't, but he himself being the party that's high? This much is a given. Be it opioids, weed or something stronger, Chris might think that if being inside of you and with you feels good, being inside of you and with you while buzzed is like walking on clouds or downright fucking an angel --- and what's best, this is one of the safer, more mild fetishes he has in the long line up. You might be a bit of a frog getting slowly boiled in a kettle, perhaps think that, oh, well, your Chris is simply a bit adventurous. After all, former college boys and getting high goes hand in hand to the point it's almost a stereotype. Oh, but little do you know ---

― Bondage. You being on the receiving end, yes. Fact is, you two don't even have to actually reach the point where you're tied up with rope. Just the very idea of you and rope in the same sentence does it for him. You and said rope being in the same room? Enough to get him hard and all fidgety by sheer default. You genuinely being restrained? Chris is all mouth agape and dazed like the very sight took him to some dark place just at the mere sight of you; and fact is, he isn't some sort of proficient master at tying elaborate patterns or any of that crap. His skills are very utilitarian, though, like someone still learning. Fact is, you could be tied to the headboard with two very basic knots and gagged with the material of his, say, bandana, and it's just the most erotic thing he's ever seen.

― So, you might've thought the sex while high part could be considered commonplace and you might've thought the bondage is merely commonplace experimentation and then Chris Taylor pulls out a gun. So, yes; he has a major taste for fear. Seeing you afraid, watching your eyes get wide, observing your body as it backs away from him only to hit a corner, catching the actual dread seep into your facial expression, your trembling voice as you anxiously question him on what he's doing...oh, boy. Sure, we can in equal measure jot this down to gunplay but the truth of the matter is that it effectively boils down to terror and Chris having developed a taste for you knowing and understanding precisely the ways he changed after the war and being willing to show it to you as foreplay.

― Speaking of gunplay, yeah, suck on that. I mean it in the literal sense. Suck on it. Taylor's the type to whip out a firearm, have you kneel, maintain eye contact with him and genuinely put the barrel into your mouth, having you stroke it with your tongue no differently than you would do with his own dick; a gesture he possibly likes even more than, say, a casual, classic blowjob, not that he'd ever say that part out loud. Now, whether the actual weapon is loaded, unloaded, locked or unlocked is another topic entirely, but it is entirely easy to believe it is fully loaded and fully ready to go and something about you effectively pleasuring an object that represents all of his darkest, messed up impulses admittedly gets him going so badly that he could effectively cum harder from you being at gunpoint than from anything else.

― Sex while fevered, sick, sleepy, exhausted or injured --- something he is likely to do to you as much as he'd be on the receiving end of it, being something of a Somnophiliac with a taste for all things at least slightly tantric and esoteric, finding the act of fucking or having you ride him while he's dazed or plain out of it to be oddly illuminating or perhaps enlightening --- an almost near spiritual experience --- the little death in a very literal sense; something he indirectly picked up as a byproduct of him hanging out with the boys in the Underworld right along with his penchant for mixing sex and drugs, meaning that having you pleasure him, edge him, fuck yourself on top of him while he's disoriented in some shape, way or form is genuinely a fantasy he has (in fact, the movie script even has him dreaming about something similar.)

― Happy embarrassed girls. You know? The supposedly unassuming old timey pin up with her clothes ''accidentally'' caught in a piece of furniture, or the centerfold leaning down with her skirt slightly hiking up and smiling bashfully at being ''caught'' by the viewer? The type of semi-voyeuristic thing every soldier everywhere had hanging in his locker at least one point in time. The stuff of boyish daydreams. Chris lives for this sort of thing and probably had ever since before his college years, possibly being the first kink he ever developed in puberty. Stockings coincidentally ripped, a shy nip-slip you try to conceal or a wardrobe malfunction --- Chris gets his brain hazy over your being seductively, invitingly exposed and pretty darn content about it too. Puts him the right mood.

― Like a true son born of two fathers, if Chris picked up his occasionally fringe taste for sex with a mystical, borderline cabbalistic edge from Elias, it can be safely said that he just as likely adopted up his leaning towards going at it rough, dubious consent and dominance from Barnes himself, whether he knows it or not or whether he'd ever even fully admit to it (then again, maybe he would), because in either case, yeah, Chris would have developed everything ranging from a blood kink, a kink for cat and mouse games as foreplay, a fetish for the chase as a whole, authoritative play where he's the party in charge, hostage / hostage keeper scenarios, the need to subdue and going straight into things that can be considered Chris's own personal touch influenced by nobody with the likes of schoolgirl / schoolboy roleplay harkening back to his abandoned college days. Suffice to say, his tastes are surprisingly varied.

― To conclude, Chris Taylor is in many ways the definition of 'more than meets the eye' in every regard, including his sexuality and the more one digs, the deeper the rabbit hole of his desires gets. Sure, he seems like the type of rich kid who'd tremble at the notion of getting to second base at the back of a car parked car at a drive in theatre because that's just about the most sheltered, suburban notion of sex imaginable, but in actuality, Chris probably thought what it would be like if he watched you have sex with him and ten other guys while you're all buzzed out of your mind on opioids and fantasies like that are pretty much merely the tip of the iceberg with him. As the kids nowadays would say, he's a certified freak through and through.

[poisonouswritings]

HEHSH USHSH VOICE ACTOR M3(OR FOUR IF U WANT IDRC) WITH VOICE ACTOR MC WHO CSN DO A LOT OF VOICES HEHDJDKSK

Okay this is kinda funny

GN!Reader, Colored Bullet Rule (Felix, Anisa, Sage, Rime), man I'm still upset Crisp Rat is gonna be Mario in the movie, we're gonna say you're also a pretty good impressionist because it's funny

Since Astraea obviously doesn't have cartoons or movies or anything like that, the Starsworn have no idea what a voice actor is. Sure there's narrators in stage plays and whatever but that's not really the same thing. You try to explain it to everyone but they still don't get it.

Sage is very curious about the fact you get paid just to speak because!! He can speak too!!! And he can even pronounce the words right most of the time as long it isn't something stupid like the crap in Felix's spell books!!!!

This obviously leads to Felix going on a lecture about how Sage Could Totally Pronounce Them If He Just Tried! And Rime making fun of Sage, which leads to Sage getting pissed and snapping at them both and then Anisa has to snap at them all to shut up and Wow She's Scary And Kinda Hot When She's Annoyed

The easiest way for you to explain it is to just do it. So you clear your throat, wiggle your shoulders, and do your best impersonation of Felix's posh voice stressing enunciations. Then you cycle through Rime's haughty insults, Sage's aggravated snapping, and Anisa's confident shutdown.

Well Sage and Anisa are staring at you like you're possessed but Felix and Rime seem to get the idea at least.

You end up doing a lot of other samples for them; impersonating characters you've voiced before (which also involves explaining the character and the relating story... That could take a while), popping out some sound effects (which you're not as good at but they find it funny so), impersonating a few more people (You manage to do a pretty good Escell scolding Rime for not wearing a proper shirt, which successfully ticks Rime off because Escell Totally Would (and probably has) Bitched About That, etc etc.

And in the following days and weeks, your voice acting talents become called upon somewhat regularly

Sometimes Felix will be doing experiments and asks you to read information from his book for him. You throw on your best 'annoyed magic teacher' voice (obligatory fuck JK Rowling but all I can picture is Snape) and bark out the info, which makes him giggle so much he nearly fucks up his chalk circle.

When you and Anisa go out on patrol and kids come up to you (as they've heard your talents before), you put on a bouncy, silly voice and tell a few jokes or a silly story to make them squeal with laughter. Anisa finds it incredibly heartwarming and she usually laughs along even though she's heard the jokes before.

Sometimes Rime gets anxiety about the Lord of Shadows - guilt for working with him to begin with, worried he'll somehow find a way to come back again, etc etc. So you put on your best Evil Shadow™ voice and start saying truly stupid things. Rime cracks a smile. He'll eventually laugh, if not just because you're trying so hard. The effort you put in probably makes him feel better than your actual performance.

Sage is trying to be flirty, using innuendos and (frankly kinda corny, but it works when it's him) pick-up lines and putting his hand in your knee and whatever, all while you're out in public at the tavern. So you wait until he's taking a (pretty deep) swig of ale to try out a Kermit-the-Frog-esque voice and flirt back. He promptly spits out his drink because he's laughing so hard, but then he kinda chokes like he's got a hairball so. Um. Help.

Side note what if you were a voice actor for Ex Nihilo?? Or the original Last Legacy if you're older??? You confront LoS (who you know is Mike at this point) and do the voice of whatever character you were and he fucking knows that you've figured him out.

[samstclair]

Pedro Pascal’s Thespian

Anonymous Request - "Hiya Sammy!

I was wondering if you could do something short but not TOO short, a girl still wants her cozy bedtime read! Anyway, I know it's not that exactly ethical, but I think a great story idea would be Pedro Pascal being your theater teacher (university, no high school p!do stuff here <3) and you're his student, or maybe a co-worker? I don't know, but I know you know! Maybe he wants to see you after class, some storyline like that? Thanks a million billion!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh my god, you're the guy. The guy from those posters! Those like, "Have You Seen This Man In Your Dreams" posters! I knew it! You looked familiar! Like a frog!"

The man with the thick ass unibrow furrowed that unibrow in confusion. He rose his hands up, backing up, "No, I'm not. You're just mistaken, I'm not him. I'm just a friendly Samaritan, that's all."

You continued to walk towards him, gun now raised. "You lied to me, after all this time. You're him."

"No, please!"

"I won't hesitate, bitch!"

Pow. Pow. Pow. POW......beep beep beep BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEBEEEEEEPPPPEPEPEPEPBBBEEEEP

Your eyes fluttered open, cringing at the sound of all too familiar alarm. You rose your arm and continued to slam your hand on the nightstand until you were able to land it on the alarm, effectively hitting snooze and effectively breaking it in half.

You rubbed your face, pulling the blankets over you to avoid the sunlight that came through your apartment window. There was the sound of traffic and commotion and all that other New Yorkan bullshit.

"What a weird dream," you thought to yourself. "I shouldn't watch so many conspiracy videos before bed."

Then forgetting that dream all in an instant because that's how dreams work, you rose and cracked every single bone in your body. Your favorite one to crack was that tailbone.

beep beep beep BEEP BEEPE BEPEPEPPEPE

"JESUS CHRIST BITCH! A GIRL IS FUCKING UP ALREADY MY GOD!" you yelled, ready to karate chop that already destroyed alarm once more, until you realized it wasn't your alarm. In fact, that all too familiar beeping just moments before also wasn't your alarm. It was your phone.

You picked it up, "Hello?"

"Y/N! Where are you?! Class is starting in like, fifteen minutes, get your booty down here or you'll be fucking expelled! Thespians are supposed to be punctual beings don't you get it?!"

Timmy Tim hung up right after, not giving you a chance to talk. And you weren't sure you could have had the opportunity arose. You checked the time - it was ten A.M. You were supposed to be up an hour ago.

"Oh fuck fuck FUCK!" you whined, grabbing the first pair of pants near you. Your PJ t-shirt would just have to do! "Oh my God, why am I always late?! First that carpet interview, and now this?"

Before you knew it, you were on the streets of Brooklyn hauling ass to your university building. You felt as if you were in a movie, breezing past all sorts of people, from those in suits cosplaying as characters in Succession and Wall Street brokers, to those TikTok fashion students, to Billy Eichner from Billy on the Street!

Running was what you did best, perhaps the ONLY thing you did best. You ran and ran, stomped and stomped, doing summersaults and other parkour shenanigans as to avoid crashing into anyone. Simone Biles WATCH OUT!

You jumped over a rat, a pizza slice, a rat eating a pizza slice, pigeons, cracks on the cement to avoid cracking yo mama's back. The constant horn honking and New York accents fueled you, you were your own person in this big apple, just like everyone else...

But wait - a girl needed her coffee. Like those Forever 21 t-shirts, a girl cannot function let alone LIVE without her coffee. You wouldn't mind being late for stopping at a Starbucks line. Those girls that would come in late to class with their loud fucking car keys in hand, a grande frap in the other, well, they had a point, to say the very least, after all.

And you did just that. You saw the green Starbucks lady just up ahead! You ran and ran!

Once you got your venti brown sugar shaken espresso with an added five shots of espresso after waiting in line for twenty minutes, you were back to your task.

"Hey mama you wanna hit this?!"

You turned at the harsh, deep and guttural voice. It was the same man who would cosplay as a Breaking Bad character you had always passed by, now holding up a crack pipe to you. He was dead serious.

You then held up your venti brown sugar shaken espresso with an added five shots up to him, as if you were cheering together.

"No thanks," your bimbo ass yelled back as you kept speed walking away, "I have my own crack here <3!" Forever 21 would've loved you for that. Instead of those proverbs they print at the bottom of their plastic bags, they should instead plaster your face as a replacement!

His eyes widened. He seemed extremely taken aback, soon following your response with a horrible coughing-laughing combo. It was very reminiscent to that meme of Idris Elba on Hot Ones.

The all too familiar university building was just up ahead. It looked like every other building in this city but you KNEW it wasn't just an ordinary building - it was the Waystar School for the Theatrical Arts - a prestigious and extremely overly expensive school for, well, the theatrical arts. You never saw yourself as a theater major, and to be quite frank, you hated Hamilton because it reminded you of those weird kids in the school hallways, but it wasn't until you were chased out of Colombia with hundreds of thousands of dollars that you thought - well I might as well do SOMETHING with this money...but that's neither HERE nor THERE and we WON'T be delving into as to why that happened!

Timmy Tim was standing outside the steps, his scrawny and tall ass looking down at his phone and back up to the street, a worried look plastered all over his Victorian doll looking ass face.

"Oh my God, Timmy! I'm here," you waved your arms so hard you felt them go numb, "over here!"

He whipped his head to see you, his frown was turned upside down.

"Y/N!"

You stopped in front of him, ready to catch all that breath that left you as you ran. Your sides ached, you felt like an old man going up like three steps.

"Y/N, what happened? What took you so long?" he asked. "And wait, what are you wearing?"

You looked down to your pants...

bruh.

"Um, I didn't have time to pick my outfit, these were the first things available!"

"Cookie monster? Really?"

"Listen Timmy," you snapped, "I didn't have time! Would you rather have me show up in underwear?!"

"I thought you didn't wear underwear. You love to call yourself a "freeballin' commando girl", right?"

You took a minute and thought to yourself. You felt that New York wind mixed with gasoline and steam from hot dog water ride up your bare ass - it was cold. He was right, there's nothing under these pajamas.

"Well, at least my shirt's....okay?" you looked down and stretched it out to get a better look. There was a mixture of stains and wrinkles plastered all over. Some of the stains you recognized, but some you didn't. There was mustard, ketchup and mayo mixed together, boogers, nail polish and makeup smears, Bang energy drink, oil from sour cream and onion Lays chips that you wiped on it with your fingers, watermelon juice, and more. The shirt itself was a light pink and once read  "Holy Crêpe!". It was part of a set you bought when you were back in Paris, but we don't talk about Paris here, just like Colombia. But whatever because now it's faded away, gone from existence. You forgot, this was your depression shirt that you hadn't changed out of the entire fucking week.

"Your shirt looks like Jackson Pollock painted it but he was also blind," he said, embarrassed.

"That's definitely ableist, Timmy Tim," you said. "We gotta go, we're definitely late now!"

You both ran inside, crashing into the glass doors as you kept forgetting they were "pull" instead of "push". But actually, they were neither. You didn't see the big ass sign on the window of the door saying "TO OPEN PRESS BUTTON", as you were too caught up with wiping the remnants of stains that transferred onto the glass as best you could, but to no avail. But you still tried.

"Timmy, hit the button!"

"What button?"

"The big metal one! The one with the Stephen Hawking chair!"

Timmy Tim looked at the handicapped button at the side of the wall, then back to you, in awe. "Bitch, you mean a wheelchair?"

He pressed it, letting the doors open by themselves as you were still trying to clean them.

Timmy gave you a dirty look as they opened slowly. "You know, you shouldn't take part in abusing the system. Neither should the school. It's fucked up, honestly."

"And you should know better than to go to dinner with Kanye West in today's day-in-age, but you don't hear me talking shit! I've seen that photo!" you continued to watch the door open insanely and inconceivably slow.

"Um, actually, Kid Cudi was there also. And Pete Davidson! It wasn't just Kanye!" he shot back.

When the door finally fucking opened, the two of you squeezing through. You gave the janitor a wimpish Jennifer Coolidge-esque smile before running up the stairs, feeling guilty for those stains.

"I fucking hate stairs," you said, legs going up and down, up and down, "why couldn't we use the elevator?"

"Because you broke it, remember?" he snapped as he ran up in front of you. His attitude definitely soured after that Kanye comment.

You suddenly recollected that catastrophe. Not your fault you underestimated the power of the gust from your sneeze. You hated allergies.

"Plus, stairs are better - since your fat ass won't do the stair master at the gym!"

"Watch it Timmy, the stair master is actually harder than it advertises to be!" You guys had hit the third floor, only two more to go. "You know, you talk a lot of shit. I can airdrop your stupid Statistics rap to everyone here, INCLUDING the Dean. Keep up the smack talking!"

You two had finally hit your floor, your class was now just down the hallway. Timmy Tim Tim stopped in front of you, almost causing you to topple back down the stairs. He was very serious. He leaned in to whisper.

"You know how sensitive that video is to me," he warned, before turning and going towards the class. You followed closely behind, feeling silenced.

You both entered the classroom, careful not to bring any attention on yourselves. But let's be honest you were both late as fuck and you also looked a little shaken up, as if you were two weeks into another one of your pink Benadryl benders. Which arguably, you were.

All your classmates looked at you two and as you took your seats. You noticed that your professor was absent, clear from sight.

"Um, where's our professor?" you leaned in and asked Timmy Tim Tim Tim.

He rolled his eyes and let out quite the scoff, "Y/N, sometimes I wonder how you even know how to  walk straight or chew food. Didn't you read the email he sent us like, two days ago?"

You thought back, scratching and searching in your mind for this "email". However, you weren't really sure, as you had forgotten your school email's password and every time you tried to log in, you were locked out and eventually the website blocked you completely. But you wouldn't dare tell this to anyone, this stayed between you and yourself and God.

"Um, yeah I did," you replied, defensive, "I, uh, I just wanted to see if you got the email. You know, testing you." you smiled, biting your tongue like a white mom, your favorite emote. He didn't seem amused.

"I'm kinda nervous, to be honest. He's like," he leaned in, closer, you smelled his wet breath but kind of didn't mind?, "like, a real actor."

It was hard for you to pretend you knew who and what the fuck he was talking about.

"So what? I've never even heard of him, to be honest," you said, fishing for Timmy Tim to reveal the name of your professor's replacement, "like, what's he been in?"

Timmy Tim backed up and gave you a long, blank face. "Are you serious?"

"Serious as cancer," you smiled.

"Pedro Pascal? Like, Pedro Pascal. Narcos, Game of Thrones, Mandolorian, that one Sia music video," he listed, "we literally binged-watched Last of Us, like, three times at your apartment because you said you wanted to take in every aspect of his face you might've missed."

The news caused you to drop possibly the loudest, hardest fart, but luckily someone dropped their textbook at the same time so the noise drowned out. What a good idea.

The door whipped open, slamming against the wall and causing a giant hole. The classroom fell deathly silent...

And then in he came...

There he was...

He was tall, big. He had blocky, black, and dog-chewed 3D glasses that looked like had its lenses popped out deliberately. He wore a grey cardigan that hung down below his butt. He gripped a Starbucks iced quad espresso in a venti cup with extra ice and six shots in his hand, as if it might fall like Jonah Hill's did. He had a patchy beard but a strong mustache. He gripped in his other hand a dark brown leather briefcase. And lastly, he carried the demeanor of an intimidating yet refreshing and real, Hollywood actor.

"Oh shit, will I get charged for that?" he asked the security guard that escorted him in, pointing at the newly formed glory hole.

"Take it up with Logan," the security guard shrugged and left, closing the door behind him.

He turned to the class and smiled. "Well, hello everyone! Sorry I'm late, I got lost. Couldn't read the signs. These glasses here," he pointed to them, "yeah, they don't work."

He set his briefcase on the desk.

"I can't do this", you panicked. "Mama can't handle this right now."

You really couldn't. You really did wish you saved your password to your notes app, because there would've been a lot of preparation needed for this that frankly you did not fucking have. How were you supposed to react to this little Trojan horse the school just dropped on your ass?

"Well, anyway guys! Thank you so much for joining me! Now, I first have to get this out of the way, but I've never taught a class before so bear with me!" he started, smiling. You were petrified. Frozen. You felt like the son from Hereditary when he got possessed in class. "So if you got the email, you know that your professor's out of town and I was somehow available to teach a university class for a couple of days! So here I am!"

"He's so cool," Timmy Tim whispered in your ear. You couldn't snap out of whatever trance you were in. Honestly it wasn't even a trance you were just stumped.

"So what do we call you, professor?" a student asked.

"Uh," he thought, "Pedro's fine, I guess. Or Mr. Pascal."

"Pedro Mr. Pascal, where'd you get that cardigan? It's so chic, no?" another said.

"Oh this ol' thing," he said, feeling himself, "Target!"

And then you saw it.

He did it.

He did the white mom tongue.

Maybe you two were more connected than you thought? Maybe you were prepared? Like, anyone who does that unscripted and unsolicited is automatically an ally, right?

"Well, anyway. I know this is an acting class but I wanna see how skilled you are in the writing department. After all, a show or movie is only as good as the writing! All those Writer's Guild protests aren't for nothing! So go ahead, whip something up! It can be about anything, as long as it is formatted like a script! None of that narrative writing bullshit because my attention span is not all that great!"

As everyone whipped out their laptops and began writing, you were still in your stump. Timmy Tim had to check in if you were okay.

"Uh, Y/N? The fuck is wrong with you?" he asked, somewhat disgustingly. "It looks like you're astral projecting."

You snapped back and looked to him. "Oh my God, Timmy Tim Tim. I didn't think HE'D be our professor!" you hushed.

"But you said you read the email -"

"- um, yeah, obviously I did," you interrupted, trying to save the lie your fat butt told, "I just thought, you know, he's a celebrity and he wouldn't actually have time for this bullshit. He's like, a big deal."

Tim Timmy looked over to the new professor. "I mean, look at him. He definitely has the time."

You looked over to Mr. Pedro Pascal. He was talking to a group of kiss-ass teacher's pet students.

"So are you guys #teamBarbie or #teamOppenheimer?" he asked, leaning against his desk in a true, professor-who-thinks-he's-Robin-Williams-in-Dead-Poets-Society, "I'm not your ordinary teacher, I change my student's lives!", professor fashion.

"Well, one nearly eviscerated an entire population and the other's just a girl who loves pink? I think it's an easy, obvious answer, professor," one student replied.

"No, no," Mr. Pedro Pascal laughed, "I meant which are you going to watch first when they come out."

"Oh! Well, in that case, I'm #teamBoffem!"

Timmy Tim (to the third power) looked back to you. "We should really start our work. We can't let these smelly theater kids beat us. I won't let them beat me."

And with that, Tim Tim grabbed his laptop, smacked it on his desk, hunched his back forward, cracked his fingers and started to type away, all whilst resembling a cartoon character. He was so serious.

"Shit, I forgot. This is school", you thought. "I actually gotta like, work."

You then went into your bag for your laptop, opened up a blank Word doc, and stared at that screen for about five minutes before you snapped back into reality. You looked up to the new professor, who was now writing on the board his name. You thought it was kinda weird, cause like, who the fuck would not know his name?

"What the fuck am I going to do?" you thought, feeling that breakdown coming in HOT, "what's a girl to write about?"

But anyway, he was so fine. You could definitely scope out his dad body under it, causing you to get overwhelmed with anxiety and not gonna lie a little hot down there. But, now was not the time for another shit, despite how much your body's immediate reaction was to do so. Not you're fault you have IBS. Imagine what he would think of you if you asked to go to the bathroom? Ew, gross. You'd much rather wake up to find a lizard stuck to your nipple pasty from the night before on your dresser again, that you had to set free and say sorry to than ever give him the HINT that you, a girl, pooped.

You looked back down to your screen. Because of your inactivity, the screen went black and you were left seeing your reflection.

And then it hit you.

Fuck him thinking how you poop....

GIRL LOOK AT YOURSELF! YOU STILL GOT THAT BENDER SHIRT ON! PEDRO SAW YOU IN YOUR CRUSTY STATE OH FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You began to fully panic, feeling your breath go short and the hysteria creeping in. It drove you crazy as you looked around you, freaking the fuck out that you were sticking out in the crowd of students, not only physically but emotionally. You did NOT want to be that one kid that cries in class. Or have a freakout. Like time and place. What ever happened to you doing it at her birthday dinner?

You felt yourself begin to black out. Why today? Why why why oh my god this is not good. Girl. This is not fun or fresh.

You tried to at least fix your hair. It was picked up in a hair clip, with two strands in the front hanging out. You ran your fingers over them to make them look at least presentable, but the more you ran your fingers the greasier they got. Now you just had two, greasy ass strands of hair hanging out in the front of you. Great.

BUT WAIT!

"Timmy, I need you to do me like, the biggest favor a girly can ask for."

He looked over to you, annoyed that you interrupted what he thought was going to be his magnum opus. You glanced at the screen - the man had already written eight pages worth of material. There was no way, you definitely got the vibe he plagiarized but whatever now's not the time.

"What? Don't you see I'm busy?"

"I need you to cough, like, really fucking loud, on some tuberculosis shit." You reached down into your bag and shuffled through, finding your Vanilla scented dry shampoo. You smiled, relieved.

Mama's gonna put this to work...

"What? Why?"

"Just fucking do it okay? Jesus Christ, you're literally an actor it's your job to fake shit," you held it up, as inconspicuously as you could, but let's be real the bottle is huge cause you just HAD to get the biggest one from Ross for eight dollars. "On the count of three. One, two, three -"

You had your fingers on those strands, and the moment you said 'three' you went apeshit. They were covered in a thin layer of white, the smell stunting you a bit in its power and it's cloud surrounding you like you hit an obnoxiously large vape.

At the same time, Timmy let out the loudest, thickest, most bronchitis-esque, cough he could. It definitely worked, since everyone in the class gave him heavy side eyes instead of you, who by that time had already dropped the can back into your bag and was already going to work by rubbing the white shit deep into those strands.

The cough must've been extremely powerful, as Timmy Tim Timmy's eyes welled up. He turned to you.

"Is that it?" he asked, his voice resembling the Breaking Bad man from earlier.

You smiled, biting your tongue. "That's it, girl. See? I told you, you're such an actor. It sounded very believable."

"Really?" he lit up a bit, albeit still looking sickly.

"Yeah, like, if you were in France during the bubonic plague era and you coughed like that, your ass would've definitely been, like, grass," you told him. "Trust me, I know a lot about that time in history." You felt so much better, not only had your anxiety seemingly slipped away but you loved hyping your girls up. It's what bffs are supposed to do, after all.

You looked back into the reflection of your laptop. The white had pretty much been dispersed, and now instead of it looking matted like it was greasy, it just looked matted as if you underestimated how much spray you actually put. Oops!

"Whatever, it'll have to fucking do", you thought.

You then opened that Word doc again, your confidence stirring a need to create! Now just what should you write about -  

"Hey! What do you have so far?"

And just like that - time stood fucking still.

You turned your head just a bit to the side and there he was. Tall, in his cardigan. coffee in his breath.

"Oh my God, hey professor! Yeah, let me just go ahead here and," you closed the blank Word doc and began to look through your other saved files. Anything. You need SOMETHING. You looked and looked, all while under the pressure of his presence.

You scrolled through all your gibberish, from late night questionable depression journal entries to your outdated resume, to your notes app, to your weird and obscure lists - you just needed something. And you needed it fast.

"Yeah like it should be here," your voice trembled, but you tried your best to mask it as you just being a giggly, happy girl, "I don't know why it closed! So silly! Soooo silly of me! So so silly -"

And then you found it.

You cringed, but it would have to do.

"Here it is!" you looked up to him. His face sent you chills down your entire conceivable body. It was really him.

"Great, what is it? And why does it smell sweet?" his nose scrunched up in the air, trying to find exactly what that smell was. He looked like a wine connoisseur.  

"Oh, the vanilla?" you said, "that's my body spray!"

He made an impressed face. "I like it. Strong. It's telling you it's vanilla, for sure. Anyway, what is it you wrote?"

You glanced at the open entry on the notes app. No how the fuck were you gonna explain this. You really would've just rather tell him you didn't have shit.

"Um, well, so I don't know if you're like familiar, but there are these things," you really tried. But now you've been caught. Caught in 4K like boys say. "Have you ever heard of POVs?"

"You mean, like fan fiction?"

"Uh, yeah actually. Exactly that."

Though you couldn't see him, you felt Timmy give you a look. He knew what it was. He knew exactly what it was. You saw the first episode of Last of Us when it aired and you just had to open your phone and go to town writing a fan fiction that was also never meant to see the light of day. Let alone the light of Joel himself....

"Okay, interesting. Even though I don't think it's what I asked you guys to do, I'll give it a shot!" he sat on the empty desk to the other side of you, turned your laptop to him, and you sat there, every bit of your self-respect and esteem draining out of you as you watched his eyes move side to side reading the lines.

Let's just say, it was a little NSFW! In fact, it wasn't safe at all. It was horned up and just bad. Unintelligible. Incoherent.

Some minutes went by and you were actually pretty surprised you managed to stay somewhat composed. Really it was your power and ability to disassociate in highly stressful situations to thank. You just fixated on the clock, reminiscing about how being in high-school had you reading the time in a matter of seconds, waiting for that bell to ring. But now, looking at it made that comment Timmy Tim made about being a blind Jackson Pollack hit home.

You clocked back to reality and looked to him. He was deep in thought, deep in the reading. His head rested on his hand and his finger was held at his mouth like those old TikTok's of "pov: you stopped by your English teacher's class during lunch and she's eating a salad" bullshit. His eyebrows were furrowed. It really wasn't that much so you weren't sure why he was taking long.

Moments later, a single tear ran down his face. He slowly and gently shut the laptop closed. He looked as if he had just seen an anal prolapse for the first time but was desensitized enough to not illicit a crazy reaction, but be completely numb as if he used to play the Reddit 50/50 game during his pastime when he was younger.

This actually made you somewhat hopeful. Was your work that groundbreaking it made him cry?

It was now just the two of you, you felt like there was no one else in the world besides you two, now sharing this moment.

"Oh my God, was it like, good?" you asked, in your bimbo self.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He then put them back on, stood up straight, and let out a deep breath.

"No," he said lowly, "it's fucking really bad. It..... it stinks," he pinched is nose.

You didn't realize but in your fixated daze on the clock, you had little to no sensation in your bowel area therefore no control of them and you let out some farts during his reading that now cumulated into a fart cloud hanging around y'all.

Your eyes widened.

"Sorry, it's my body spray!" you smiled sheepishly, instead you looked fucking psychotic.

"I thought you said your body spray was vanilla?"

"Bath and Body Works sometimes isn't all that good! Or maybe mine just expired, who knows!" you mustered up, "But anyway, what did you think, professor?"

He rose and leaned into your ear. "I think you and I need to talk about this in private. Let's rehearse in my apartment after class."

He then left your desk.

Your ass was left SAT! You still had goosebumps all over your neck and those hairs were standing - did he just invite you to his apartment to 'rehearse'? The fuck does that mean? Is this even ethical? Who knows and who cares cause you're not just gonna go ahead and say no.

"What was that all about?" Timmy asked. "Why did he cry?"

"Timmy, I think he just invited me to his apartment."

Your friend then did the most soyest face a white man can possibly soy face. "Y/N! What?"

You hushed his ass down. "Shut up, I don't want him to hear!"

You looked over to Mr. Pedro Pascal, now talking to other students. No way you just secured this. That dry shampoo was the best call you made in a while.

After the bell rang, you walked out of class with Timmy Tim Timmy at your side, back down the stairs. Just as you were descending, you heard that all too familiar voice.

"Y/N!"

You and your friend turned. Mr. Pedro Pascal was walking towards you. You swear you could hear Timmy's bones chattering from nervousness.

"Hey professor!" you said.

"Oh, you don't need to call me that. Pedro's fine," he looked to your Tim Tim, "hey, I know you - you were in, uh, what's that movie called?" He began snapping his fingers as he tried to think.

Timmy laughed, pretty modestly, as Pedro tried remembering, embarrassed. "Oh, don't worry about it. You've probably seen me in Lady Bird, Call Me By -"

"Oh, no wait! I remember! Interstellar! Yeah you were amazing in that," he turned to you. You felt a rocket of anxiety go up your ass. "Anyway, Y/N, I thought, since my place is like a couple blocks away, we could go there now together. I would really like to work on your story."

"Of course, Pedro! Let's go!"

You and Pedro left Timmy standing there, clueless. You didn't really feel bad leaving him. He had to know that right now, it was all about you. It's what a good wing-girl would do.

As you and Pedro were descending down the steps talking about whatever mumbo jumbo, you saw these two men dressed in black suits talking at the front desk. You weren't sure why, but something was alarming about them. You thought for a moment that since it's an acting school or whatever, it might've been two dudes recreating Men in Black. But, no. No, something deep inside you was telling you that these two men had no interest in Will Smith OR Tommy Lee Jones.

"Huh," Pedro said, also seeing them. "What's the IRS doing here?"

Oh. Fuck.

It all made sense. Always trust your intuition, honestly. And speaking of tuition - that's what they were probably here for. You taking off with student loans that you had no intention of paying back before you left to Colombia, your fraudulent GoFundMe page - your past was catching up to you. And now, they were here. Right here.

"Mama ain't letting no Uncle Sam ruin her chances with Pedro", you told yourself. "Mama ain't letting that happen."

"Hey, Pedro! Have you ever seen the back of this place?" you asked, stopping the two of you from reaching the landing.

He stopped. "What? Do you mean, like the alleyway?"

"Yes, exactly! The front doors, they're like, broken!"

"Oh, that's what I thought too. Remember, the glasses?" he pointed to them, "Can't see. But the people at the front desk said they're not you just have to press the button -"

You gripped his hand and yanked him down the stairs, making a sharp turn down the hall towards the back alley door. Pedro, too much in shock, just started running too. He then began to laugh because of how crazy and not like the other girls you were being right now.

You glanced behind and there they were - the men in black - high-tailing it after you. They were not playing around. You couldn't be caught, no, not now!

You ran faster, faster, faster! It was what you knew best! Your feet smacked that floor like crazy!

Once you two made it to the back alley door, you stopped and analyzed your surroundings. In the distance, you saw those two men - but you knew you had to make a decision.

You looked to your left and on the wall, you saw it. The fire alarm.

You gripped it, pulling the fuck out of down, causing the loud ass alarms to begin blaring. The sprinklers were now turned on, drenching everything in water. People began freaking the fuck out, running out the door but crashing into it as they forgot too, it was broken.

The rush of adrenaline fueled through you as you saw those Men in Black slip and fall on the floor. The makeshift little waterpark you just made just bought you enough time to officially make it out!

"Why would you do that, Y/N? Are you crazy, that's illegal!" Pedro yelled at you, still somewhat excited.

"Because, uh," you thought of something to say, anything but you possibly being labeled as a fugitive, "because the thoughts! The intrusive ones, you know?"

His worried face soon calmed down. He laughed, relieved, "oh, yeah. Man, I hate those. We should probably go!"

You pushed the back alley door open, and just like that, you were out!

You weren't completely sure how far you two ran, but it was definitely far enough from those agents. Though still drenched in water, you soon ran off a lot of the water off.

You looked to Pedro, who, frankly, you forgot momentarily was with you. He had a gleeful, fun smile on his face. The city was passing you two quickly, it felt like some climax to some dramatic ass movie. Very much so the end of How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days-esque.

"You're crazy, Y/N, you know that? Like you're not well!"

"Yeah, so funny whatever," you rushed, "maybe we should go to your apartment now?"

You kept looking behind him, making sure the Men in Black hadn't caught up to you in their hyper speed, but it was hard to tell because again it's New York and everyone's in a suit? You literally just looked insane and paranoid.

"Yeah, I guess we just have to Uber there 'cause we're pretty far. Do you have the app?"

"Uh, yeah def," you opened your phone and realized you were shaking. You couldn't let Pedro see that so you turned your back to him. He was confused, but not offended enough to ask why you did that.

And then you forgot - the bottom half of your screen literally doesn't work. Every time you went to Apple they swore they fixed it but it would then bug out and stop working. It was a toxic cycle tbh and you really did need a new phone.

You turned back around. "Sorry, Pedro. I don't have the app, maybe we should just get a taxi instead? You know, support local businesses?"

He agreed and you two began flagging down yellow cabs, but none stopped. You hated when they did that. Ain't that your job?

One finally stopped, and Pedro opened the door for you like the gentlemen he is. You sat your big fat butt into it and closed the door. Just as Pedro was walking around on the other side to sit beside you, you looked up at the driver.

Ain't. No. Fucking. Way.

"Nathan?" you said, exasperated.

The Canadian named Nathan Fielder turned to see you, also exasperated. "Holy Crêpe! Y/N?"

"Na fuck this," you hopped back out and slammed that door SHUT! People outside the cab must've thought you saw a rat from how quickly you exited that vehicle.

"Y/N? What is it?" Pedro asked, just before he entered himself.

"Pedro, I actually just realized I'm more of a walker," you said. "Like, on some Walking Dead shit."

He shrugged, closed the door and you two began to walk down to his apartment with no questions asked. Jesus, what more could go wrong today? But no biggie cause you were literally going to Pedro Pascal's apartment!

As you two began down the sidewalk, you felt this force, this inclination to turn back. You swore you've felt this before, almost like deja vu. You weren't comfortable at all with it, but you also felt there would be some relief giving in...

You turned.

And there it was.

The Russian RuPaul furby. That was it, that was the rat.

He was sat in front of the back window of Nathan's cab as he drove it away into the sea of cars, waving its little paw at you, with nothing behind his drag queen eyes.

Fucking monsters...you thought, shuddering at it.

"Hey, you okay?"

You turned to Pedro. He seemed really concerned.

"Oh my God, yeah! You just always have to watch your back, you know? Never know who's an opp!"

"An 'opp'?"

"I forgot, you're a boomer. Can we stop by McDonald's on the way to your place?"

"Yes, I'm starving!" he said. You loved a McDonald's buddy.

Okay let's do time jump you're in the apartment okay it's a nice cute little New York apartment you get the vibes alright cool.

It was now evening, and the sun began to set, casting that golden hour glow into the living room. It had already been a couple hours in, and nothing had yet happened. Pedro was sat on the couch, now looking at a printed out version of your story after he had revised a lot of it, reviewing. You sat on the couch in front of him, and you two were deep in talk about the story.

"-so, I think besides some, you know, grammatical error and stuff, it'd be perfect!"

"Really? Aww, thanks, Pedro. This is a lot of help," you said. "To be honest, I would've never thought that this story would have been read by anyone else but me."

"What do you mean? This is way too good to just be closed off in that Notes app of yours."

There was some moment of silence, as he continued to read the story and you sat there wondering when this 'rehearsing' was going to take place. After all, a girl's had a rough day today. And it was about to get rougher. And not in the sexual way you perv.

"Buzz buzz buzzzzzz", your phone said. You shifted your butt to grab your phone, checking the new notifications. Since the bottom half no longer worked, you need to flip it from vertical to horizontal to back to vertical to access iMessage. It was from Timmy.

iMessage from My bff Timmy Tim 🍑

You clicked it open.

My bff Timmy Tim 🍑: Y/N, call me when you can. It's bad.

You typed back.

You: What is it? A girl's busy.

My bff Timmy Tim 🍑: Did you set off the fire alarm???

You thought to yourself. What the fuck was a girl supposed to say? You had to explain this in person, not through text. It could NOT possibly translate well that way. You instead opted to send a  GIF.

You:

My bff Timmy Tim 🍑: bitch tf???? Y/N, they're saying you could be expelled from the school! You're going to get kicked out of the dorm!

Your asshole tightened at the news. You grew so angry, like, why can't a girl just live? There's literal murders out on the street. Like, chances are someone's doing insider trading on Wall Street as we speak. So what if a girl got $30,000 of her own money and decided to pull on the fire alarm that LITERALLY says "pull" on it?

"Well maybe next time they should put "don't pull" fucking toads", you thought.

"Something wrong, Y/N?" Pedro asked.

You looked up and quickly put your phone away. You smiled again, trying in a reassuring way but again instead you looked manic.

You shrugged. "Ain't no thang but a chicken wang!"

He rose and stretched. "Hey, I have a dinner I need to go to. It's with my bff, Oscar Isaac? You know him, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Can I come?"

He stopped, froze even. He looked at your shirt then back to you. "Um, well, it's really just an actor thing, you know. Business."

"No of course! I get it! I'll get out of the way for you!"

You rose, grabbed the extra copy of your story and quickly walked out, preventing Pedro from seeing your face - as you were on the verge of having an entire breakdown. Your eyes welled up as you ran down the hallway, into the stairwell.

You hid behind the door, hearing Pedro's calls for you, but again you'd rather set another lizard free than have him see you.

You sat down on the stairs after brushing some litter off to the side. Tears ran down your face, you looked down at the paper. You dropped your head down, defeated. Why wasn't anything literally going right? You would've rather missed class altogether!

Some tears fell down your face and dropped onto the paper. You decided to look over it again, specifically the last paragraph, reading what Pedro read:

"Joel pushed the door of your Boston apartment open, exhausted as always. He plopped himself on the couch, hand to his head.

You walked around the corner, in your panties and vintage "Team Aniston" baby tee.

"Aww, are you tired, Joel? Long day?"

"Yeah," he said in his grumpy, low tone.

"Nothing a hug could've solve!" you said, before pouncing on top of him. You hugged him, and he hugs tightly back, he then throws you on the hard floor and you feel his member pressed against your leg. He begins kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fight for dominance but you let him win. He eventually starts going down on you, taking your "Team Aniston" tee off, and starts kissing your labia.

"This...this is a labia," he says.

You lift your legs as he begins to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He holds your foot up and raises himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes are closed, ready to take the boy from Texas in. This is it. No clickers, no Robert, no cordyceps, nothing - just you and Joel."

You stopped reading any further. You didn't realize, but you had a goofy little smile on. You really thought about posting it on Tumblr for the girlies. You got up, feeling a little better now all the tears were out and with a new task on your mind - get your shit from your dorm as you were now probably expelled, and get to work on that fanfic for the girlies!

You got another buzz buzz on your phone and pulled it out.

It was a FaceTime from Timmy Tim 🍑

You answered it.

"Hey Timmy!" you mumbled through boogers and tears.

"Oh my God, did you guys have sex?"

"Bitch does it look like it? I'm literally crying!"

"I don't know, I know you tend to cry after."

"That's sensitive information, Timothee. I'll crack you in half, right before Kylie's BBL ass does!"

"Yeah well that's for the Statistics rap threat, loser ass bitch! So what ended up happening? I don't like seeing my girls down in the dumps."

"He literally just revised my story. That's it. And then went to go eat dinner with Oscar Isaac, you know, your dad. He's such a fucking flake!" you whined, "what's a girl to do in this Big Apple? I just want a dilf sometimes that's it!"

"My dad?"

"Um, yeah. Star Wars or whatever."

"You mean Dune," he corrected.

"Man, you LOVE correcting me! Whatever. Anyway I gotta go, a girl's gotta keep her hopes up in all of this!"

"Come over, Y/N. We'll watch something to get your feelings back up and order boba! You win some, you lose some but what matters is that you'll always have your girls!"

"Oh my God you're the best Timmy I'm on my way as we speak!"

You hung up and bolted for the exit, the fan fiction will just have to wait you guess!

Hope you guys enjoyed!

xoxo,

~Sam St. Clair

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter one.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: i have a lot of feelings about these two. welcome to those feelings.

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Caught in Heated Argument with Fan

Sendai’s Tsukishima Kei Breaks Paparazzi Camera

Sendai Frogs Player Threatens Reporter Outside Home

You sigh, scrolling down the list of news articles that had populated when you’d entered his name into the search bar. 

“This fucking guy.”

The top links are all reports of his most recent altercation, his newest scandal, the next thing he’s done wrong. Only a few talk about his performance during a game – luckily, he’s beyond talented and had drawn in a substantial amount of the Frogs’ fanbase, so his… poorer points have been overlooked by their management.

Until now.

You sigh again, remembering the text you’d woken up to this morning.

[5:07 AM]

Tsukki: im fucked

Tsukki: management called me in for a morning meeting

Tsukki: come over tn?

You’d groaned, instantly exasperated. You texted back that you would expect him to have dinner ordered by the time you arrived and left it at that, going about your day with a feeling that this had been the last straw for him.

Because Tsukishima Kei had always been trouble.

The boy you’d known in elementary school had been sweet and playful, but he’d had a mischievous streak. It had paired well with your general tendency toward chaos, and your friendship had been built on shared scoldings from teachers and parents.

The boy from middle school – the one who’d learned about betrayal – had been snarky and bitter, tongue sharp and words crafted to draw blood. Stones pelted at those who’d ever spoken ill of you – you, growing into wider-set hips and chubbier thighs than the other girls. You, who’d always hid your insecurities behind Tsukki, your wild smile and silly demeanor keeping others from seeing how painful stones could truly be. 

He’d been almost imperceptibly softer with you – just a bit gentler, lacking the same heat that had scared others off – but he’d still cut you a handful of times. Retorts thrown too quickly in times of high stress, sarcastic comments snapped at your heels a little too thoughtlessly. But you’d always been tough — turned by the cruelty of a few mean boys and girls into something just sharp enough to handle his temper — and he’d learned that he should take care not to cross any real lines with you.

He’d still managed to cross a few in high school, and you’d taught him that you hadn’t been joking. He’d had to learn that the words ‘ I’m sorry ’ were hard to say, but that having you ignore him was harder. 

And one day, those words had stopped working, too. Because a friend shouldn’t lash out enough to need them as often as he always had.

Tsukishima Kei had learned – in the middle of your third year at Karasuno, when a fight had gotten to a point worse than things had ever been between you – what it might mean to lose you. You’d walked away from him that day, and you’d gone weeks without speaking to him. He’d finally shown up at your door after a home game, drenched in the torrential downpour that had started so suddenly that you’re still convinced the universe had put you in a dramatic movie moment on purpose.

But he’d stood there anyway, waiting you out until you’d be willing to talk. Because you’d never once missed a game of his, and because – even if he’d been trying everything to get your attention since your fight – it was starting to feel like this was the nail in the coffin of your friendship. And he simply couldn’t have that. You could yell at him – bicker and snap and fight – but your silence was unacceptable.

He’d stood there at your door, blond hair plastered to his forehead and rain-covered glasses hiding his eyes completely, as you’d beaten his walls down to nothing. Screaming, you’d gone on and on about his lack of consideration and care for you – about every moment that had felt like a punch to the gut when nothing of the sort should be allowed in a friendship – until you’d run out of breath. Until all you could do was stand there on your doorstep and sob, the storm drowning you out to everyone but him.

He hadn’t said a single word, only stepping up to you once you’d stopped and wiping your snot-covered face with the front of his drenched volleyball shirt.

“ Okay, ” He’d finally mumbled, voice thick with regret as you’d cried into his chest. “ I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. ”

You two hadn’t had a single problem since. Things had gone back to normal, with Tsukki toeing the line but, without fail, never crossing it.

You’d been secretly glad he hadn’t changed all that much. He was still the same. He was still Tsukki.

The rest of high school had passed by in a series of rolled eyes and exasperated comments. College had started just the same, with new friends made and roommates come and gone, but Tsukishima Kei right where he’s always been. People here were less rude, less judgmental of your size and the unapologetic demeanor that had been built because of it. You’d made friends here, although never ones that could compare to the Karasuno Volleyball boys, who still float in your social orbit even now. Shimizu Kiyoko floats closer still, one of your dearest friends to this day.

And, still , already three years into college, Tsukki’s what he’s always been. 

Brutally honest and annoyingly coarse.

Sarcastic at best and a cloud of misery at worst.

Immovably loyal and at your side without question.

He’s the same as always, if not a bit more mature with age. Your relationship’s developed into one of constant exasperation, witnessing his every moment of idiocy into adulthood. He’s a nightmare to have a serious conversation with, but you’ve learned that he always listens, even when he wants to do anything but that. Your arguments are frequent, but never serious.

Any hint of a real fight is always squashed promptly under his feet, his hands calming on your shoulders and his tone losing its edge the moment he’d spot the telltale signs of your anger – he’d always give in first, even with a personality as stubborn as his. The balance between his commonplace sarcasm and something more serious is a delicate one, but he’d managed to find it with you. 

The issue, however, is that you are the exception.

Tsukishima had been recruited by the Sendai Frogs in your third year, playing successfully and renewing the year-long contract for the following school year – the unspoken agreement being a full-time professional contract with them after graduation. He’d been sheltered, in a way, last year, because it had been a soft launch – a trial run to see how he’d do, how the Frogs fans would take to him.

As it turns out, the road to going pro comes with as many problems as it does benefits.

Upon signing the contract for this year, the Frogs management had officially introduced their It Boy to the world. 

Tsukishima Kei – 21 years old, Middle Blocker. 

He’d been thrown into an unending schedule at the beginning of the year – any time outside of practice and games is taken by interviews, sponsorships, media promotion. His face and name had been plastered over billboards and brand collabs, the Sendai Frogs’ Middle Blocker a player slated to bring the volleyball world to its knees.

But the most important, truly – the thing that had started all his problems – is the invasion of privacy.

He’d managed to make it to the start of summer vacation while juggling the newfound fame, but – with the halfway point of his temporary contract approaching quickly – the Frogs fans had recently become rabid. People clambering over each other in classes to get a better look at him, baristas writing their number on his coffee cups at cafes (and then posting his coffee order online, of course), and his face posted all over the internet. Every miniscule move he makes is posted to Twitter – his class schedules, his mealtimes, his practice hours. Paparazzi at his apartment, at his car, at his classes.

He’s everywhere, and that’s too much, even for him.

He and Yamaguchi had had to move to a gated, private townhouse together, unable to stay in their dingy off-campus apartment anymore – too many people had tried the locks and camped out in front for a single glimpse of the up and coming star athlete. 

You hadn’t escaped the public eye unscathed, either. You’d seen enough comments about yourself online – what your relationship with Tsukishima Kei might be, and why it always seemed just non-platonic enough to be questionable but completely unable to be pinned down. What you may or may not be gaining from hanging around this rising heartthrob, and – notably – how you could possibly think he’d be interested in you, given your… physical attributes.

You’d learned to be good at ignoring those comments, but it hadn’t come without damage. Damage that had taken the form of quiet arguments with Tsukki about not wanting to go out into the world with him, irritated demands that you not let the irrelevant comments of a few internet trolls affect your friendship. More than a few instances of Tadashi and Kiyoko showing up to your door with takeout and some reassurances, Tsukki’s barrage of whiny texts set aside for a night.

It had gotten easier over the summer, your ability to ignore the public’s opinion not necessarily stronger, but your ability to hide the effects of it certainly solidified. You manage to shake off the minor stress that comes with leaving your little studio apartment every morning, and you’re happy with the balance of your private and public life by Tsukishima Kei’s side.

What you’re not happy with – very crucially – is his inability to keep his name out of the tabloids for picking fights with paparazzi.

– 

By the time you make it to his townhouse, it’s well past 5pm and you’re nearly dead on your feet from the full day of work and classes. School’s just picked up again, and your professors seem to not know the meaning of ‘syllabus week’. 

Tadashi answers the door, glancing over your shoulder at the poorly hidden paparazzi across the street before gesturing you into the house.

“He’s not here.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?” Where the hell-

“I am now.” 

You turn, finding Tsukki just behind you in the doorway, a bag of takeout in hand and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He shuts the door and kicks off his shoes, eyeing the narrow glare you’re giving him.

“Got something to say?”

Your tone is sharp. “Did you really break a reporter’s camera last night?”

He nods, not even a little bit ashamed. “He was sitting on my car after practice, waiting for me. And then he wouldn’t get off of it.”

You sigh while Yamaguchi nods understandingly. 

“Yeah, alright, that’s annoying…”

“ Annoying isn’t enough to justify my reaction, apparently.” He shakes his head, following the two of you into the kitchen. He leaves the bag on the island for you to unpack and disappears down the hall toward his bedroom to change. You withdraw containers of curry and set about serving three plates of it, navigating their kitchen without issue.

Tadashi mumbles quietly beside you. “How fucked is he?”

You shake your head, sighing again. “Infinitely fucked, I’d say.”

“You saw the look in his eye?” He cuts a questioning glance at you, his concern apparent. You just nod, pouring out drinks for the group.

“He’s not telling us something.”

“ He’s right here.”

You both look up, finding Tsukki in the doorway with a pinched scowl and high, tensed shoulders. He lifts a brow at you.

“I’m fine. ”

You and Tadashi make brief eye contact before snorting in unison and pushing past him to the living room with the food. You take a corner of the couch, and Yamaguchi occupies the armchair beside you.

“So, what’d they say?” You ask. 

“Off the team yet?” He follows up with a joking smile.

No one acknowledges the underlying nerves you’re both displaying when you look Tsukki over. As much as he needs to get his attitude in check, neither of you can fathom a world in which the Frogs had let him go.

Tsukki flops down on the other end of the couch and breathes out a quiet sigh, slumping back into the cushions. “Management is unhappy with the reputation I’ve created for myself.”

You nod, taking a bite. You’d expected that.

“Okay…?” You draw your knees up under yourself, watching him stare up at the ceiling.

“They have asked-” He lifts his brows, considering something. “-well, more like threatened – that I make a major change to my lifestyle in order to fix the growing impression of me before it becomes ‘solidified’,” He quotes with his fingers, smiling mirthlessly. “Or my full-time contract’s on the line. They want me to find something to make me seem more…” He trails off, staring off to the side now, in your general direction.

“Pleasant. Approachable. Relatable. Soft.” He shrugs. “That kind of thing.”

Months of watching Tsukki adjust to the celebrity lifestyle makes translating this a breeze. 

“They want you to get a girlfriend,” Yamaguchi concludes, spooning curry into his mouth.

He laughs bitterly. “And they want it fast.”

You take another bite, shrugging when he looks over at you. “Better get to downloading dating apps, then.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.” He tugs his phone out of his pocket, anyway, glancing briefly at his roommate. “You’re both enjoying this.”

“Well, you didn’t get kicked off the team, so-” Yamaguchi relaxes, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Mm-hm-” You agree. “You did this to yourself.” And then you scoot in, watching him download a few apps. “Cast your phone to the TV so we can watch.”

“You’re funny- hey- ” 

You snatch his phone away, connecting his phone to the TV and projecting his open Tinder screen. You slap his hands when he reaches for you, setting his profile up for him in a matter of minutes. He snorts.

“Experienced in online dating?”

“Gotta do something to pass the time in between classes.” 

You only realize how it sounds when they both eye you in amused surprise. Tsukki sits up to look at you properly, scandalized and face split in a wide grin. “Gotta do what in between classes, exactly?” 

“Wait-”

Tadashi giggles into his hands, sinking low in the armchair, and Tsukki shakes his head, tutting in disappointment at you.

“That’s a crazy thing to admit out loud, Y/n-”

“Shut up ,” You shove him, tossing his phone back and then pointing at the TV. “Start swiping.”

He relaxes back into the couch with a laugh, and the three of you eat your dinner with the entertainment of the night.

–

“Pass.”

“Aw, she’s cute.”

“Exactly. Girls who are cute usually can’t handle me.”

“...Was that a reference to his personality or to sex?” You ask, eyeing Tadashi fearfully.

He shakes his head beside you. “Better not to ask, I fear.”

Tsukki’s suspicious grin is enough for your lip to curl in disgust.

“Ew.”

“I’m just being honest,” He shrugs, unapologetic.

You lay a hand on his shoulder, speaking down to him like he’s a child. “Well, if you don’t start swiping right on cute girls, your contract’s going up in flames, sweetheart.”

“ Ugh -” Tsukki groans loudly, throwing his phone down on the couch. “This isn’t working. None of these girls are the right fit.”

“Then maybe your standards shouldn’t be literally impossible to meet!” Yamaguchi throws his hands up in exasperation. “We’ve been at this a whole hour, and you’ve only swiped right on one girl.”

“Yeah, but she had nice tits,” He admits plainly.

You and Yamaguchi stare, deadpan. “You’re terrible,” You say eventually.

“Yeah,” Tsukki sighs. “I know.” He takes a breath, and then he’s turning to you with wide eyes. “Oh, hey! You have nice tits, too – you be my girlfriend.”

Yamaguchi promptly chokes on his drink, and you reach to yank the pillow out from under Tsukki’s head.

“Stop-” You smack him in the face with it repeatedly. “-Being. Gross.”

“It was a compliment!” He laughs, blocking his head and then catching the pillow with ease. You enter into an unwilling match of tug-of-war. “And I already know our personalities work together, so I don’t have to go through the pain of a talking stage!”

You eye him with suspicion, pulling the pillow toward you. “You’re not actually considering this.” You look back at Yamaguchi. “He’s not actually considering this, right?”

Your friend just stares, shocked.

Tsukki pulls hard on the pillow, catching you off guard and launching you toward him. “Oh, I most certainly am.”

“Tsukishima Kei-” You tug, hard. He resists. “Get that thought out of your head right now.”

“Come on-” He argues. “We are clearly a match made in Heaven.”

“In Hell, you mean!” You laugh. “There’s no way!” You look at Yamaguchi in panic. “Help me!”

The man just shrugs uselessly. “This conversation wasn’t on my bingo card for the year. I’m stumped.”

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Come on, Y/n. It’s not like you’ve got guys lined up outside your door-”

“How would you know?” You snap, a little offended. “I could be going on dates every night-”

“When would you have time for that? You’re with me most nights.” He leans in, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Even more evidence that we should just date.”

“Get away from me-” You push him back with your foot, putting distance between you. He just grabs your ankle and pulls you toward him, and you scream as you’re dragged down the length of the couch. 

Tsukki starts to clamber over you, but that finally sets Yamaguchi in motion, the boy standing quickly and yanking Tsukki by his hair back to the other side of the couch.

“Play nice, you freak,” He says, smacking the blond hard on the forehead. Tsukki just laughs, one of those rare laughs that makes you forget why you were ever mad in the first place.

“Okay, okay!” He yells, struggling to be freed from Yamaguchi’s torture.

You crawl back to your corner, kicking him for good measure while you go. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Tsukki argues, still smiling wide. “This is literally a win-win.” He fixes himself, keeping an eye on Yamaguchi while he talks, because the freckled boy is grabbing a magazine off the coffee table and rolling it up. “We’re good together.”

“This is only a win-win for you,” You fight, listing things off and ticking them on your fingers as you go. “You’re annoying, arrogant, have poor impulse control and a short temper, and– importantly – we don’t even like each other!” You throw your hands out as best you can, emphasizing it. “Why would we date when we’re not attracted to each other?”

He doesn’t answer, only flicking his gaze down the length of your body appreciatively before meeting your eyes again. He sees that you’ve seen it, your gaze wary, and he grins wickedly.

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

That earns him a rolled magazine to the head.

“I’m just saying,” He laughs. “Just think of how much Management would like it if I found a girlfriend right away, and one that they know is good for me-”

“Alright-” You plant your feet on the floor with an irritated sigh, suddenly tired of this conversation. “-don’t bring them into this to guilt-trip me.” You stand, clearly making to leave.

Tsukki’s smile drops, and he stands quickly, his jokes forgotten. “What? Wait-” His eyes are wide, betraying genuine surprise. You frown, and his eyes track it. He gauges your annoyance, seeing that it’s starting to tip into something more.

“Okay,” He breathes, suddenly quite serious. He holds his hands out toward you carefully, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you back to the couch with him. Yamaguchi perches on the arm of the couch, observing quietly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tsukki tries. “I actually kinda do think we’d be good together.” When you don’t seem to believe it, he tries again. “And I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I do think Management genuinely knows that you’re good for me-”

You know that, too. You know that Management has always liked you. That’s why this idea scares you just a little bit.

Because it’s feasible.

“No one’s going to believe that we’re together if we clearly-” You swallow hard and gesture between you. “-don’t have that kind of kind of chemistry, Tsukki.”

He shrugs. “It’s not that hard to act. We have the friendship chemistry, so we’re not uncomfortable. We would just need to add-”

“Holding hands? Kissing? Entirely different body language? Clear physical attraction?” You argue, lifting your brows.

He nods like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Yeah. That’s not that bad.”

You level him with a meaningful look. “Tsukishima.” You smile bitterly when he blinks at the use of his full name. “ Look at me.”

Tadashi makes a noise of protest over Tsukki’s shoulder, clearly disapproving of where you’re going with this, but the blond just stares.

“I am looking at you.”

You laugh, shaking your head and standing again. “Good luck with Tinder, Tsukki, but I’m outta here-”

There’s a 6’3” wall in your way when you try to leave.

“You really need to get over that shit.”

You whip your head up to look into Tsukki’s eyes, affronted.

“ Excuse me?”

He’s unyielding, golden eyes hard on yours. “I’m not taking that as a valid reason. Come up with something else if you really don’t want to do this.”

“Tsukki-”

“Give me a better reason, Y/n.”

“It makes no sense, Tsukishima!” You scoff, all but laughing in his face. “Not a single person is going to believe that we’re together. We’re going to look stupid together-”

“I don’t think we look stupid together,” He cuts you short, turning to Yamaguchi. “Do you think we look stupid together?”

Tadashi flicks his gaze back and forth from Tsukki’s to yours, clearly torn. When he sighs and it becomes clear he’s about to take Tsukki’s side, you gape at him.

“Yamaguchi!”

He gives you a regretful look. “It’s not unreasonable , Y/n. People already wonder what you two are, anyway.” He rolls his eyes when you stare at him in disbelief, lifting his hands helplessly. “We all know you balance him out. Think of the good you could do, whipping this idiot into shape.”

Tsukki turns to you with a victorious smile, eyebrows lifted. “Consider me whipped.”

You groan, snatching your bag off the floor and pushing past them. “Goodbye.”

Tsukki’s slipping his shoes on at the door with you, only snatching his keys from the bowl when you shoot him a questioning glare.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says as he props the door open for you.

You’re about to remind him that 7pm in the summer is not that late, but the flash of a camera catches your attention. You turn, shielding your eyes from the paparazzi snapping pictures at the end of the driveway.

“Don’t you have a family to spend time with or something?” Tsukki says over your head, his voice tense.

You elbow him hard. “You really gotta stop giving them what they want,” You grumble, stomping down the front steps. The blink of Tsukki’s headlights and the gentle purr of his car remote-starting is the only response he gives you, and you trudge over to the passenger-side door. You wave tiredly at the cameraman standing just past the gate and give him a smile.

“I’d love to say he’s above hitting you with his car, but he’s having a bad day.”

The man chuckles at your joke. “I suppose I shouldn’t take any chances, then.” He takes a few more photos, but he steps out of the way regardless.

Tsukki stares at you when you settle in next to him with a sigh.

“How do you do that? I had to break a guy’s camera to get his ass off the hood of my car.”

You shrug, closing your eyes and leaning against the headrest. “It’s not groundbreaking work, Tsukki. Try being nice once in a while.”

He drives you home in silence.

You keep your eyes on the sideview mirror, watching the unmarked van that’s trailing the car the whole way there.

What would be the difference, really, if you pretend to date Tsukishima Kei? You already get followed home and to classes. You already hear all the whispers when you walk anywhere with him. You’re already all over the internet, comments about your body plastered everywhere for the world to see.

It doesn’t really matter that you’re not interested in Tsukki, does it? It’d be laughable for anyone to question that you could fall for him – he’s tall and objectively gorgeous. Everyone wants him.

The issue is you.

You’ve seen the girls he goes home with at parties.

Your eyes shift from the unmarked van to your own reflection, and you chuckle under your breath.

Yes, you’re good for Tsukishima Kei – you manage his unacceptably short temper. You support him unconditionally and keep him in check. You always have. You’re everything Management needs from him.

But the issue is still you.

“Would you cut it out?”

You blink, turning to look at Tsukki’s side profile while he drives. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on the middle console. He shifts his eyes briefly in your direction before lifting them to watch the van behind you, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“What?” You say, the silence in the car a bit suffocating.

“I’m asking you to cut it the fuck out. Whatever’s going on in your head – cut it out.”

You lift a brow. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t know, Y/n – whatever insane shit you think about yourself.” He shakes his head, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex. Thankfully, it’s a big one with hundreds of units, and the paparazzi have always had the sense not to follow you in.

He pulls up to the main door, putting the car in park and leaning back in his seat with a tight sigh. You both watch the van pull up in front of you, the man on the passenger’s side hopping out and snapping photos of the two of you staring back at him.

“Look,” He says quietly, in a way that reeks of an oncoming argument. You can see him gripping the middle console like he’s stopping himself from getting out of the car. “I know what people say about you. The comments they make about your body and your looks and everything else.”

You stare out the window, nodding. It’s amazing how desensitized you’ve become to the barrage of flashing lights that comes with Tsukishima Kei. “I’ve been hearing it since we were kids-”

“Yeah, exactly. Since we were kids , Y/n. Are you gonna let this be an issue for the rest of our lives?”

You look at him, your skin flushing with anger. “What are you trying to say? It’s not like you have the same problems I do.”

He meets your eyes, gaze burning. “I’m telling you to get the fuck over yourself. Are you gonna listen to a bunch of assholes who don’t matter? Or are you gonna listen to me ?” When your jaw drops, he pushes. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine. I’ll let it go. But not if this is your reason.”

“My reason, Kei -” You spit, matching his anger. “-is that I don’t feel like being the laughing stock of your little fanbase.”

“And you think this is gonna stop them?” He smiles, but it’s irritated. “You want me to find some supermodel to date? You think they won’t make comparisons between you and the girl on my arm?”

You hadn’t thought of that.

That you wouldn’t be the pathetic, pining girl trailing after Tsukishima Kei anymore.

You’d be the jealous friend.

Pathetic, pining, jealous little Y/n.

A light flashes in your periphery, and a headline flashes with it – a week from now, when the Sendai Frogs have confirmed his new, unnamed girlfriend to the public.

Tsukishima Kei and Friend Y/l/n Y/n Seen Arguing – New Relationship the Cause?

You’re unable to stop the aggravated growl that spills out when you sigh through your nose.

“They think they know who you are, Y/n. But they don’t. They fucked it up.” Tsukki keeps your gaze locked on his – his eyes are dangerous, like he’s predicting the headlines, too.

He leans toward you. “So show them,” He says. “ Show them who you are.”

You lean forward, too, your face a little too close to his. 

“And how do you suggest I do that, Kei?”

The camera flashes, and your chest flickers with some unknown excitement.

His smile is wicked, mocking.

“ Fix me.” He lifts a brow when you glare, doubling down. “Or be the girl that watches someone else do it.”

You kind of want to kill him.

–

You lie facedown on your bed for hours that night, listening as Kiyoko laughs on your couch. She lives in the same complex, only a few floors above you, and she’d made the long journey all the way here just to laugh at you.

She stays with you the whole night, laughing until she cries. And then she laughs some more, because that picture of you in Tsukki’s car is already circulating the internet.

“You’re so fucked,” Kiyoko heaves between breaths, sometime around 2am. She’d moved to the bed with you hours ago, scrolling through Twitter and showing you some of the more unhinged reactions to the photo.

[12:24 AM] TsukkiFan0927 : no because they MUST be fucking????

[1:07 AM] user9329348 : those two have always been so shady together,,, no way that this is new

[1:46 AM] TsukkiYnShipper : TSUKKIYN NATION WE RIDE AT DAWN

You just groan, dragging your phone out and pulling up your text thread with Tsukki.

[2:09 AM]

You: my life would be so peaceful without you in it

He responds immediately.

Tsukki: ill pick you up tomorrow <3

Tsukishima Kei is nothing but trouble.

–

There are an unusual amount of paparazzi outside your apartment complex the next morning.

You stop short when you exit the building, taken aback.

Everyone stares back, no lights flashing. They just stare.

“Uh-Good morning?” You say, blinking at the group of about 15 people. One or two wave in greeting, but no one else wants to break the seal.

No one wants to ask, not yet.

You pull out your phone, about to text Tsukki to hurry the fuck up before things get weirder, but you hear the purr of his car pulling into the lot before you can send it.

The seal breaks all at once.

You lose sight of the car, flashing lights all going off at the same time and effectively blinding you.

You hear your name, over and over again.

“ Y/n, is it true? ”

“ Over here, Y/n! ”

“ What did you two talk about in his car last night, Y/n ?”

There’s a hand on your arm, wrapped tight around your bicep. You inhale sharply, worried that you’re about to be mauled on the very first day of dating Tsukishima Kei.

“ Move your feet, dumbfuck. ”

Oh. It’s him.

“ Mm-kay ,” You mumble, letting Tsukki drag you to his car and all but throw you in the front seat.

Somehow, the lights are worse in here, and you can’t tell if your name is still being called or if that’s just an echo ringing in your ears.

Tsukki climbs in beside you and slams the door. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Why?” You ask, already grabbing for it. 

He shifts gears jerkily, and you go flying against the door as he peels out of the lot.

“Tsukki!” You scold, hearing his tires squeal against the pavement.

“You were too slow,” He jokes, eyes on the rearview mirror. You turn, spotting the army of vans that are following behind him.

“Dude,” You breathe, sinking down into the seat. “It was one picture .” 

“Regret anything yet?” He says, catching the light just before it turns red and leaving all the vans behind.

“I regret everything,” You say without hesitation. “All of it. Every second.”

When he doesn’t respond, you turn to him. He’s got his eyes on the road and the mirrors, seemingly calm. But his teeth wear down on the inside of his lip, and he’s not sparing you a single glance.

You sigh, nudging him gently. “I’m kidding.”

He gives easily, lip released from its torture. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Tsukki. It’s fine.”

“We’re good?”

“We’re good ,” You say, smiling when he scoffs. “It’s better than me being labeled the sad, jealous friend while you date some airhead that’s after your fame and fortune.”

He grins then. “Aw, you’re not that much of an airhead.”

“Let’s break up.”

He laughs the whole way to campus.

–

You finally understand why Tsukki snaps at the paparazzi.

They’re everywhere – outside your classes and at your favorite cafe. Just two of them, but you’re uncomfortably familiar with them by the end of your second class. You’d given up sometime around lunch, turning in place on your way to the dining hall and asking if they just wanted to walk with you instead of trailing behind.

You eat your lunch with Hiro from SMZ and Nariko from Sendai Sports that day. You don’t answer a single question of theirs, just smiling and spooning rice into your mouth as you ask about their lives instead.

They’re bemused at your strange approach, and you play this game all afternoon with them – by the time Tsukki’s practice is over, you’re hoping you’ve gained at least some of their favor. 

Hopefully, they’ll post nice things about you. Only the good photos, maybe.

Still, the air shifts when they realize you’re heading for the university’s gym – Tsukki practices on campus with a private coach in the afternoons, going to the Frogs’ gym to practice after classes are done. 

You can see them itching to lift their cameras, itching to ask the same questions again.

When did it start? Are you official? How did it happen?

The building comes into view, and you spot his blond hair near the entrance. You clear your throat.

“So… I think I’m gonna have to leave you here,” You say, gesturing around you now that you’re at the base of the stairs. 

They both look dejected, like they were hoping for an introduction. You just give them a thin smile and turn, hurrying up the stairs before they decide to stop being respectful of your boundaries.

Tsukki’s got his eyes over your shoulder as you approach.

“What’d they want?”

“To know my regular order at the dining hall,” You say simply. You stop a friendly distance away, seeing when he eyes the space between you. His smirk speaks before he does.

“You forgot a few feet.”

You grimace, taking a single step toward him. He takes the rest, his body brushing briefly against yours.

You look up at him expectantly. “How should I greet you?”

“However you want.”

“I wouldn’t suppose a friendly hug would do.”

A light flashes when he smiles down at you, and you’re wondering if the world’s ever seen it before.

“No,” He says, humored. “I don’t suppose it would. But a not-friendly hug might.”

You stare down at your shoes, thankful your back is to the cameras.

It’s a bit strange to realize, but you’ve never hugged Tsukki before. Not really.

A casual pat on the back, yes. The occasional side-hug, maybe.

But a hug – despite its simplicity, its lack of meaning – is not something you can ever remember doing with him.

You think of how you hug Tadashi, how you’d hug Hinata or even Kageyama after a game in high school. It’s so easy with them.

The idea of Tsukishima Kei wrapping his arms around you is… odd.

Very odd.

Still, you’ve wasted enough time already. It’s the only option.

You lift your arms, wondering if you resemble a petulant child, and Tsukki just grins and bends down, his bag slipping off his shoulder when he slides his arms around your waist. You’re pulled onto your toes, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

Hugging Tsukishima Kei is not what you’d expected.

You’d always seen him as some cold wall of annoyance – a big, dumb athlete who was always a little painful to smack on the chest after a crude remark. A boy who’d always been rough, who’d grown strong and become some untouchable statue made of cold marble.

But he’s not cold at all.

The air around him is warm, smelling just slightly of sweat from practice but more than anything of that scent that’s distinctly Tsukki . That clean smell that you’d unknowingly grown to associate with comfort. That unplaceable warmth that smells like your childhood.

His hands are bigger than you’d realized, fingers long and warm against the small of your back. His chest is just as hard as always – that unmoveable wall that towers over you – but it feels weird against yours. It feels weird to feel his heartbeat – have you never felt his heartbeat before? Has he always had one?

You wonder if he can feel that your cheeks burn against his neck, if the heat is notable in this little pocket of quiet you’ve found. If your skin warms under his fingers, which rest strangely against the spot where your shirt’s ridden up a bit.

“ How was practice? ” You mumble shyly against his throat, feeling when he swallows hard. You can’t decide if it’s his heart or your own that you’re hearing right now, pounding somewhere near your ears.

“‘ s fine, ” He says, and you hear the hitch in his breath. 

This is weird for him, too, then.

Good. That’s good. This is weird for both of you. You’re not alone in this.

You pull away, clearing your throat quietly. Tsukki lets you slide carefully down to your feet, his fingers skimming the skin under your shirt just before he pulls away, his movements rushed and sharp.

Your skin burns where his fingers had been, and trying to ignore it only makes you more aware of it.

You glance briefly up at him, unable to control the double-take you do when you see him. He won’t meet your eyes, but his face is radiating heat, a blush high on his cheeks and his ears a rather interesting shade of red.

You watch him glance at your ears, too, and the tiny smirk he suppresses tells you that you don’t look much better.

You swallow, wondering where the hell this humming under your skin’s come from.

“Uh-” Your breath catches when his golden eyes meet yours, and you recover clumsily. “I have-”

What do you have? 

Class.

“I have to get to class,” You blurt, blinking rapidly.

He just blinks back, as though he’d also forgotten why you’d met him here.

“Right,” He says. “Class. I’ll walk you.”

“Okay,” You respond, turning on your heel and heading down the stairs. You hear him follow after you, but then there’s a hurried shuffle behind you, the lights of the paparazzi flashing in a frenzy.

You turn back quickly, finding Tsukki tripping over his own feet to get back up the stairs, his bag left abandoned at the top.

You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face, and you know the flashes that follow are for you.

Tsukki snatches his bag up and turns to you, spotting your teasing grin before you can smother it.

He rolls his eyes, stomping to catch up with you.

“Shut up.”

You laugh the whole way to the crosswalk.

–

Kei doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He doesn’t understand why he feels so skittish, why his fingers are a bit numb. He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you, what he could possibly be searching for when he watches you.

His eyes scan you while he walks you across campus to your next class. He barely notices the people whispering around you, his gaze tracking the uneven rise and fall of your chest and the white-knuckled grip you have on your bag.

Okay. So you felt it, too.

Good. He’s not crazy.

The memory of your skin under his fingers flashes through his mind. You’d been so soft – he hadn’t realized how soft you are. He’d never even considered it. Soft and warm, heartbeat racing against his chest and arms wrapped tight around his neck. Breath shaky and fanning out over his skin when you’d whispered something about practice.

His fingers itch to touch you again, because he’d never thought to do that, either.

Fuck. He probably is going crazy.

He clears his throat, watching when your fingers twitch on your bag in response.

“We, uh-” He lets out a breath, seeing your building come into view and wanting to say something – anything – to smooth this silence over before you leave. “-probably shouldn’t do things for the first time in public like that again.”

It works. You laugh under your breath. 

“Why? Scared to look like an idiot again?”

Okay, it’s at his expense. But you laughed.

“I’m sure you didn’t look so great yourself,” He says, biting down a grin when you smile.

“That’s too bad,” You say, a teasing edge in your tone. “I was just about to hold your hand.”

Kei chokes, his cough loud and embarrassed. He shoots you a glare when you glance up at him in amusement.

“I swallowed a bug.”

“A bug,” You repeat, nodding and turning away to hide your laugh. “Still think it’s so easy to act, Tsukki?”

He wants to go back in time and beat his past self into shutting the hell up for once.

But that’s not an option, so he just braces himself and shifts minimally closer to you, the back of his hand brushing up against yours. 

He feels you falter beside him, and it gives him just enough courage to do it.

Your hands are a lot smaller than he’d realized. But your fingers slot easily with his.

He can’t tell if it’s his hand or yours that’s clammy, but he’s tempted to say it’s yours because this has never once happened to him before. Not a single one of the girls he’d ever dated had made his palms sweat, so it can’t be him. Had any boys before him ever made you nervous like this?

Had there been any boys before him?

“Is this your first time?” He vomits those words right out, hating every fiber of his being once it’s done.

You look up at him, so taken aback that you visibly become less nervous. “Holding hands with a boy?” You say, smiling mockingly. “No, Tsukki. This isn’t my first time. Sorry to disappoint.”

He rolls his eyes, flushing. “Not what I meant.”

“I know.” You laugh to yourself, pausing outside the building where he’s meant to leave you. He can see people lingering, but no one’s close enough to hear your conversation.

“You know I’ve had boyfriends before, right?” You level him with that teasing look you always have.

Had you? Had he known that?

Oh, God , you totally had. He remembers now, the guy from first year whose face he’s forgotten. And the summer fling after him.

He knows this. Of course he knows this – why hadn’t he remembered?

How far had you gone with them? Had you told him?

“So,” He swallows. “You’ve…” He trails off and hopes you’ll understand, but you just frown up at him. He sighs. “You’ve done… everything, then?”

Your expression changes to one of alarm, and he all but feels the air between you warm.

“ Why ?” You ask, your tone sharp and your voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you plan on changing the answer if I say no?”

Kei’s heart flies to his throat, and his face burns with a horrible, horrible heat.

“No, I-” 

Why the fuck had he asked you that? Why does that matter? What’s he so curious for?

“Y/n,” He starts, holding tight when you start to pull away. He hadn’t even realized you were still holding hands. “Fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

Your face is still burning with embarrassment, and you mumble a response up to him, glancing around.

“You know that’s not gonna happen, right?”

“ Yes- ” He sighs, frustrated and more than a little humiliated. “I’m not expecting-It was a stupid question. I was just curious.”

“You gonna be okay, player?” You ask, and he thinks maybe he’s just seen the ghost of a teasing grin on your face, but he can’t tell. “You ever been celibate before?”

“God, please leave me the hell alone,” He groans, laughing pathetically and dropping your hand to rub the heat out of his cheeks. You definitely smile then, suddenly enjoying his embarrassment more than anything. 

He realizes after a moment that people are starting to file out of different buildings – it must be passing period, then. 

“You should go,” He says, nudging you toward your building. 

You nod, stepping back toward him and lifting onto your toes to wrap your arms around his neck again. His breath hitches, and he barely manages to loop his arms around your waist.

You’re just as soft as you were the first time.

You lower away from him, and he realizes distantly some other students are taking photos and whispering. But you just smile briefly up at him, your voice gentle.

“Not so weird that time.”

Was it not?

He nods dumbly and smiles when you wave bye.

When you’re gone, he has no clue what to do with himself. What is he supposed to be doing right now?

Class in an hour and practice downtown afterward. Right.

He turns on his heel, ignoring everyone’s stares and trying his hardest to squash the stupid look on his face as he walks back toward his car.

He’s about halfway there when his phone buzzes with a text.

[2:47 PM]

You: and for your stupid information

You: i have done a lot

You: but no

You: i have not done everything

You: goodbye

Kei has to take a seat on the nearest bench, ignoring the paparazzi and random underclassmen that are following him.

He sits and stares down at nothing, wondering why the thought of you being a virgin is making his head spin and his ears ring. Wondering – as he drops his head into his hands and sighs loudly – why his palms are so fucking sweaty.

–

“You told him what ?”

You groan, throwing yourself back on your mattress. Kiyoko clambers onto the bed after you, shaking you violently.

“ Why would you tell him you’re a virgin?!”

“Because I am ?” You laugh pathetically, hiding your face in your hands. She just shakes you again.

“But why did you tell him ?!”

“I don’t know! He asked!”

“ What?! ” 

“ Kiyoko- ” You protest and turn over, assuming your standard face-down position of dread. “I don’t know. It just happened. And it was weird.”

“Well, what did he say-”

“Nothing!” You toss your phone next to her on the bed, hearing her unlock it and search through your messages. “Nothing, because there’s nothing he can say. It’s not like there’s anything to do about it.”

There’s a silence from her, one that prompts you to look at her. She just stares at you, disbelieving.

“I mean,” She starts. “Do you know that for sure?”

You hide your face again. “Shut up. We agreed that things wouldn’t get that far. There’s literally no reason for us to ever do that.”

“No, I get that-” She coughs, and you figure that she’s hiding a laugh. “-but he did ask… and you did tell him…”

“ Kiyoko, ” You whine, pulling your pillow over your head for good measure while you complain, your voice muffled. “ I can barely hug the guy without it being weird. ”

You hadn’t lied. It was definitely easier the second time, and even easier the third time, when he’d picked you up from your last class and driven you home before he’d left for practice downtown. 

It had not, however, been a comfortable ride home, because you two had just sat in uncertain silence – uncertain, because neither of you could fathom why you would ever tell him how far you’d gone before him.

And it had not been easy the fourth time he’d hugged you, in front of your building and about ten reporters. Because he’d turned his head just enough to brush his lips tentatively over your cheek, and you’d stilled in his arms, your face thankfully hidden in his chest again.

You couldn’t bear for the internet to see the look on your face the first time Tsukishima Kei had ever kissed you.

He’d gotten into his car and driven off, and you’d run upstairs and called Kiyoko without a second thought.

You can barely hug him, and that sad excuse for a kiss had put you on high alert.

There’s absolutely no world in which it would be natural for you to have sex with Tsukishima Kei. No world in which it could ever be considered.

“Okay,” Kiyoko laughs when you groan in fresh embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ll get used to doing the smaller things in public with him.”

You’re about groan again, but a quiet ding comes from Kiyoko’s palms.

“Uh-” She cuts short, and your stomach flips nervously.

“ What’s it say? ” You mumble, knowing it’s him.

She clears her throat awkwardly, and your nerves worsen.

“He wants to come over.”

You wither, there in your hiding spot, and mumble a pathetic response. 

“ Okay. Sure. ”

–

“Do you… want to shower?” You gesture lamely down the hall to your bathroom, Tsukki standing awkwardly in the foyer with his bag.

You see him swallow hard, and you realize how it’d come out.

“Because you’re gross,” You blurt, watching his eyebrows fly up and his tense expression become a teasing grin.

“Yeah, I got it the first time, Y/n,” He says, padding into your living room. “But thanks for clarifying.”

You flush, watching him drop his bag and head for your dresser. He plucks a set of his own clothes out of the bottom drawer, chuckling to himself as he does it.

“I probably shouldn’t stay long. If I leave in different clothes, things’ll get weird downstairs.”

And then there’s silence, because he’d said it without considering the rather salient implications of that sentence.

You sigh when the bathroom door clicks shut, falling onto your bed and contemplating hiding your face again.

He emerges after ten minutes, as you’re texting a very nosy Kiyoko. He stares down at you until you nervously lift your eyes to his. And then he takes a breath.

“We good?”

You hadn’t realized how much you needed such a simple question.

“Yeah,” You say with a breath of laughter. “We’re good.”

His relief is apparent in the way he throws himself down beside you and extracts his own phone, opening Twitter. You’re both quiet for a while, scrolling through his feed together and seeing that his name is trending.

“ ‘#tsukkiyn ’,” He says, snorting. “Look at us, going viral.”

You see a video of him tripping over his feet on the stairs of the gym, scrambling for his bag, and you purse your lips to keep from laughing.

“Look at you. You’re a wreck.”

“Shut up,” He laughs, scrolling past it to a photo of the two of you walking across campus. He’s got his fingers interlaced with yours – it must have been the moment he’d done it, because your eyes are bugged out with shock.

Tsukki laughs loudly, immediately liking and retweeting it without thinking. You gasp.

“ Tsukishima Kei- ” 

His notifications flood with replies and likes, the whole world seeming to react all at once.

[6:59 PM] tsukkiynstan77 : HELLO??? IS THIS CONFIRMATION????

[6:59 PM] kookooforkei : NO FUCKING SHOTTTTT NO FUCKING SHOT TSUKISHIMA KEI

[6:59 PM] sendaitsukki : I FOUND HER @ EVERYONE I FUCKING FOUND IT IT’S @/ynlovely !!!

“Uh oh,” Tsukki says under his breath, turning to look at you. You stare at him, a singular moment of silence between you before catastrophe.

Your phone starts to buzz incessantly, your notifications blowing up in a surge of sudden city-wide attention. You both stare at your phone screen, watching the notifications come in so fast that your phone starts to lump them all together.

15 New Notifications

16 New Notifications

17 New Notifications

99+ New Notifications

You stare at it, watching your phone glitch and struggle, and all you can do is laugh.

“Are you… Are you stupid?”

“I think so,” He says immediately, nodding beside you. “I definitely think that’s possible.”

A text notification stands out over the rest, its ding different than the others.

[7:01 PM]

Kiyoko: im going to assume your sudden lack of response means that youre fucking that man right now.

Your eyes go wide, and you drop your phone on your face in your haste to hide the screen. Tsukki coughs next to you, and you spot the telltale burn of embarrassment on his face as he turns away.

“ Fucking bitch ,” You mumble, snatching your phone up and rolling onto your side to hide from him.

[7:01 PM]

You: you fkin gbtich

Kiyoko: oh, did he see???

Kiyoko: oops :)) 

You hear snickering behind you, and you turn to find Tsukki peering over your shoulder at the texts. You gasp, and he reaches over to pluck the phone away from you.

“What do we have here?” He asks, standing from your bed and taking three giant strides to get away from you.

“ Tsukki! ” You roll off clumsily, chasing after him in a panic. “Don’t read those-”

“ ‘You need to kiss him for real ’,” He reads aloud, sidestepping you as you chase him all around your shoebox of an apartment. “‘ I saw the pics of him kissing you out front, that shit was pathetic- ’ What the fuck?” He stops, lifting the phone over his head to read it again. “I’m not pathetic -”

“Give me-” You jump, knocking the phone from his hand and onto the couch. “-my phone, you fuck.” You retrieve it, glaring up at him. “Those are private-”

“Was it really pathetic?” He asks, entirely caught up in this. “I thought it was fine.”

You roll your eyes, going into your notification settings and muting everything related to Twitter. “It was fine.”

He just pulls his phone out, and you catch him scrolling.

He’d searched for photos of the kiss.

“You’re joking,” You say, dropping down onto the couch and shaking your head. “It was fine , Tsukki.”

He just hums, unconvinced, and throws himself down, all but sitting on you. “Look at this.” He shows you a photo, zoomed in to where his lips barely touch your face. “That’s pretty bad.”

It is pretty bad.

You purse your lips, hiding your laugh when you see how he scowls down at his screen. “I’m sure we’ll get better at it.”

He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the photo. And then he locks his phone, tossing it down next to him.

“I thought it’d be easier than this.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” You say, smiling pitifully. “Regret anything yet?”

He snorts, shaking his head and combing his fingers through his wet hair. “Unfortunately, it looks you’re stuck with me. I talked to Management after practice.”

You shift, your interest piqued. “And?”

“They approved.” He throws you a half-laugh. “Obviously.”

“Do they know it’s fake?”

“Oh, please-” He waves your question away. “The whole team knows it’s fake. I was getting my ass handed to me 24 hours ago.”

You wring your hands together nervously. “And they’re all cool with it?”

“They like you more than they like me.”

“I barely know them.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Trust me, they want this to work just as much as we do. There’s too much riding on this.”

You nod, feeling a bit of relief seep into you. If the Frogs are on board with this, it can’t be a terrible idea, right?

“Anything they need me to do in particular?”

He shoots you a grin. “Make me a decent person?”

You grimace. “Bit above my pay-grade.”

He rolls his eyes. “They want me to have a social media presence. Pictures, tweets, teasing comments – that kinda thing.”

You blink. “So, earlier-”

“Come on,” He levels you with a deadpan stare. “You really think I’m stupid?”

“Extremely, yes.”

Tsukki just rolls his eyes, snatching his phone up and laying his body across yours.

“Smile, baby .” 

You spend an hour getting manhandled into different angles and positions, your debut as Tsukishima Kei’s girlfriend consisting of poorly shot selfies and a head of blond hair in your face.

“Go home , Tsukki,” You finally say, shoving him off of you and wiping your cheek where he’d just licked you like a freak. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

He just laughs, scrolling through his cursed camera roll. He picks one out from the collection of blurred shots and ugly laughing.

“What about this one?”

It’s one of Tsukki biting your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut as his mouth opens over your face, teeth clamped down on your cheek. You’ve got one hand curled into his hair, the other gripping the side of his neck as you try to shove him off of you, but it’s obvious you’re mid-laughter.

You stare down at it, hating that it’s perfect.

“Yeah, okay, fine.” 

Tsukki snickers, sending it to you. “You post it. It’s weird if I do it.”

You roll your eyes, opening Twitter and ignoring the million notifications in order to type a simple tweet with the photo attached.

[8:22 PM] ynlovely : freak. [photo attached]

It’s met with instant engagement, but Tsukki only adds to it, retweeting it just a minute later with his own comment.

[8:23 PM] tsukei : i got that dog in me

He’s out of your apartment before he has time to apologize, but – somehow – the headlines are faster.

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Dating Longtime Friend: Confirmed

–

Despite the rocky start, things become surprisingly easy over the course of the next week.

The topic of kissing doesn’t come up again, but you find Tsukki making a habit of pecking you quickly on the cheek whenever you part ways, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. You follow his lead, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to your height when you want to plant a kiss on his face, laughter shared between you when you find new and strange places to put it. One on the bridge of his nose, another on his jawline just under his ear.

One accidentally smacked against the corner of his mouth in your rush to get to class on Friday morning.

A photo of Tsukki crouching against the wall of your department had circulated Twitter only minutes after that, his face hidden in his hands but ears clearly burning a beautifully bright, summery red. 

You hadn’t realized it then – that one accidental moment could call into question the validity of your relationship with Tsukishima Kei.

–

Your eyes scan over the most recent tweets under the ‘ #tsukkiyn ’ tag as you sit in a cafe on Friday afternoon, a strange dread settling deep in your gut.

Everything before – the excited commentary and overwhelming chaos related to the announcement of your relationship – had been due to the novelty of it all. The newness of Tsukishima as a taken man.

But this photo, where it’s apparent that Tsukki is flustered and unfamiliar with you in a romantic capacity, brings to attention a lot of the assumed details of your relationship.

You skim the tweets that address the issue, Tsukishima fans and haters alike all asking the same questions.

Why would he be so caught off guard by a simple gesture of affection? Something that can’t even be considered a kiss?

Isn’t it the case that you two had been dating for a while in secret and are only now confirming the relationship publicly? 

Is it a bit suspicious that the announcement of a relationship had comes only hours after a series of reputation-ruining headlines for the Sendai Frogs’ most promising rookie?

And there, posted only mere minutes ago, is someone who’d half-guessed at the truth.

[12:20 PM] numberonekei : lol the frogs probably paid her to be his fake gf to make him seem more likeable. not like shes actually his type.

You lock your phone, throwing it in your bag with a sigh and reaching for your coffee.

Nariko from Sendai Sports is sitting only a table away. She’d been with you almost all week, and you’d come to find some strange comfort in her presence – she’s proven herself to be a normal human being just doing her job.

Even now, she looks up from some shots on her camera when you sigh, and you feel her looking you over.

“Rough day?”

You smile wryly, pulling some books out to get work done. “Just glad it’s almost the weekend.”

“That’s a vague answer if I’ve ever heard one.”

You laugh. “Any weekend plans?”

She waves her camera at you in explanation, and you nod with a hum of understanding. She eyes you just a moment longer before returning to her shots. 

“I’ve been curating only the best photos of you, if that makes your day any less bad.”

You snort into your coffee. “It does, thank you.” And then you swallow, figuring it wouldn’t be too much detail to mention some things to her. “Just getting used to it all. The attention.”

“People kind of suck, huh?”

“Kind of,” You agree, staring down at your textbook without really seeing it. And then you blink, shaking yourself out of it. “It’s fine. I’ll feel better once he gets here.”

She looks up at you again, and you find minor surprise in her expression. “Is he really that good of a boyfriend? He’s kind of…”

“An asshole?” You smile, enjoying the breath of laughter she lets out. “He’s… hard to explain. You gotta think about how this might all feel for him, too, I guess.” There’s a moment of silence, one where she looks like she might understand what you’re saying, but it’s interrupted by a quiet knock on the cafe window.

You look up, finding Tadashi and Kiyoko, both of them gesturing for you to join them. You furrow a brow, reaching over for your bag, but there’s a hand there already.

“I texted you, loser,” Tsukki says, opening your bag and closing your textbook. “What’re you dissociating about?”

He clearly had not seen Nariko sitting fifteen feet away.

You shake your head, helping him collect your things and hoping she views your dynamic as one of playful banter. “Nothing, you ass. It’s just been a long morning.”

Tsukki crouches next you then, taking your face in one hand and forcing you to look at him. “Yeah, you look like shit.”

“Thank you. I do try.”

He only stares, scanning your face. “What happened?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand.

“Nothing, Tsukki,” You say, trying to shake him off. “Let’s just go.” 

But he’s reaching for your phone, unlocking it before you can stop him.

“Tsukki, don’t-”

“What’s…” He stares down at your Twitter feed, at the tweet you’d last read. And then he rolls his eyes, sighing heatedly and throwing your phone back in your bag. “I fucking hate the internet. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You frown slightly. That person had guessed at your fake relationship, but Tsukki’s denying it while thinking this conversation is private. Why?

He mumbles to himself as he finishes packing your bag. “ What would anyone know what my type is? ‘s bullshit .”

Oh. He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Just forget it, Tsukki,” You say, leaning forward and pressing your lips to the corner of his eyebrow. “I’m not that upset about it.”

“You clearly are,” He snaps. “I’m gonna start kicking people’s asses if they say shit to you.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand and standing when he offers it to you. “No, you’re not. I’ll kick your ass if you try it.”

He just shrugs. “I’m just saying – teaching by example isn’t a bad idea.”

“Your stupidity amazes me sometimes,” You say, and then you turn to Nariko. “Have a good weekend.”

“I hope your day gets better,” She says, smiling kindly and avoiding eye contact with Tsukki.

He waits until you’re outside to awkwardly mumble, “Was she there the whole time?”

“Yes, she was. You’re just an idiot.”

“Who’s an idiot?” Kiyoko asks as you approach. When you gesture up at Tsukki, she smiles plainly. “Well, lucky for us, he’s just a dumb athlete and not a rocket scientist.”

Yamaguchi laughs a little too loud and is forced to run back to Tsukki’s car with the blond on his heels.

–

“So… Tsukki won’t tell me anything about how things are going with you two…” Yamaguchi leans in close to you. The Frogs have a home game on Sunday, so you sit with him and Kiyoko in the stands at their gym, half-watching their two-hour practice as you work on some assignments. 

You turn to the freckled boy now, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay…?”

He smiles, and you catch Kiyoko snickering to herself on his other side. She meets your eye and shrugs.

“Social media can only say so much.”

Yamaguchi nods, his smile conspiratorial. “A little hug here, a little kiss on the cheek there…”

“That’s about it, Tadashi,” You say slowly. His grin widens.

“Yeah? Nothing else?” When you don’t respond, he and Kiyoko start to nudge each other. “Nothing about someone’s virginity?” 

You gasp, flushing hard. It hadn’t come up again all week, and you’d nearly forgotten about it. 

“What the- fuck -” You shut your notebook and reach around Yamaguchi to smack Kiyoko with it. “You were not supposed to tell anyone!”

Kiyoko laughs as you hit her repeatedly. The ruckus catches the attention of some of the players below as they take a water break, and you’re met with Tsukki’s questioning stare, Koganegawa and Kyoutani on either side of him with bemused smiles. You wave lamely at them, aiming one last smack at your giggling friends before putting your notebook down.

“I needed someone else to join me in my exasperation,” Kiyoko says, leaning close and creating a secretive huddle for the three of you to whisper. “You two were acting weird and it had only been, like, 10 hours of dating.”

“It was just a fluke!” You whisper-yell, boxing Yamaguchi in as you argue. “It’s not exactly a smooth transition from 15 years of friendship into something romantic.”

“Something romantic , huh?” Yamaguchi throws a traitorous arm over your shoulder. “Do tell, Y/n.”

“You know what I mean. It was a rocky start, and there may or may not have been some oversharing along the way.” Your face is still hot from having to explain, but you want to cut these two off before they can start concocting stupid ideas.

“Yeah, well, you’re not out of the woods yet,” Kiyoko says, her grin a little evil. “I’ve seen what people are saying today – they’re not exactly convinced that you two are the Hallmark movie you need to be.”

You grimace. “What do you want me to do? We’re moving at a decent pace, I think.”

“ Decent pace ?” Yamaguchi snickers. “You kiss Tsukki the way I kiss my grandma.”

“I don’t have time to unpack that sentence, Tadashi,” You joke, wishing this conversation could end already. “But-” You sigh in frustration. “Fine. I see what you’re both saying. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not like you need to give him a lap dance, Y/n,” He says. “But something needs to change before the game.” When you just stare at him blankly, he and Kiyoko share a look of disbelief. “You don’t think the whole world’s gonna be watching you that day?”

You deflate. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“What if they win, huh?” Kiyoko prompts. “You gonna give him a high-five, Y/n?”

Yamaguchi nods. “You at least have to kiss him. And if you’re really committed to this-” He glances over your head, eyes going wide as he leans in quickly to whisper in your ear. “- you’re gonna have to make it good. You know sweet, innocent girls aren’t Tsukki’s type .”

You blanche, remembering the joking way that Tsukki had hinted at cute girls not being able to ‘ handle ’ him.

“What are you three scheming about over here?”

You jump, turning quickly to see Tsukki standing over you, hand on hip and eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

You swallow, shaking your head. “Nothing… Nothing-” You blink, clearing your head. “Practice done?”

He nods, hoisting his gym bag high on his shoulder. “Are we still drinking tonight?”

“Drinking?” You turn to look at your friends. “Where?”

Yamaguchi smiles and lifts his bag, and you realize only now that there’s a quiet clink every time he jostles it.

“Your place.”

–

“Oh. I brought this over.” 

Tsukki reaches into his bag, extracting a bright green Frogs jersey and tossing it at you. You catch it without looking, tipping another shot back into your mouth. 

The four of you are sitting on the floor around your coffee table, some bottles of liquor and your many preferred mixers strewn on the table with the shot glasses and three bowls of varied snacks. A random movie plays on your TV, the volume low and the plot serving as nothing more than background noise.

You squint at the shirt in your hand, his last name stretched in capital letters across the back. The letters double up and hover a little, your vision not what it should be right now.

“Your… jersey?”

“For Sunday,” He says with no other explanation, just reaching over the table to pour a shot of rum and a splash of Coke into his cup. It spills over the rim a little, and he has to shake his head to clear it as he’s putting the bottle down.

Your heart jumps a little, the reminder of Sunday bringing back Yamaguchi’s words.

‘You’re gonna have to make it good. ’

You glance at Yamaguchi now, seeing that he’s eyeing you with mischief. When he sees the panic tinging your expression, he grins.

“Yeah, Y/n ,” He says, giggling drunkenly. “You gotta look the part so people don’t say you’re not his real girlfriend.” He and Kiyoko lean heavy on each other, and he mumbles to her in a voice that’s a lot louder than he realizes. “ Gotta act the part, too. ”

You glance at Tsukki, finding him staring at the pair over the top of his glasses, his cup halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrow in suspicion at his roommate.

“ Yamaguchi …” He mutters. It’s suspicious, you realize – a warning. You glance between them, wondering what’s happened.

Yamaguchi catches you, his smile wicked. “I think he’s mad at me, Y/n.” He tilts his head toward, his whisper deliberately loud this time. “It’s just that he’s been so blushy lately. I’m dying to know why.”

“Soon enough, you’ll just be dying,” Tsukki says, downing his drink. 

Your head spins a little as you look around. Kiyoko and Yamaguchi are both red in the face, the vodka having gotten to them almost an hour ago. Tsukki, too, is undoubtedly drunk – his eyes are heavily lidded, his blinks long and slow. And his fingers rest on the rug, just slightly over yours.

That’s one thing about Tsukishima Kei that’s just so hard to believe – he gets touchy when he drinks. And even if his version of touchy is nothing more than fingertips brushing over the back of your hand every few minutes, it’s touchy nonetheless.

Unfortunately, you get touchy when you drink, too.

And it’s just so truly unfortunate, because your version of touchy isn’t exactly his version of touchy.

“Tsukki,” You start, his name heavy in your mouth. “Do you plan on winning the game on Sunday?”

His golden eyes cut to yours, narrowing with unspoken questions. “That’s usually the goal, yeah.”

You swallow, your heart pounding a little louder than usual. Your drunken mind had really thought he might say no.

“Why?” He asks, but you don’t hear him.

You just sit up on your knees, struggling to put your drink on the table before scooting close to him. You hear Kiyoko gasp behind you, she and Yamaguchi starting to smack each other’s arms when you reach out and take the front of Tsukki’s shirt with both hands.

His eyes widen, and he allows himself to be dragged toward you. “What-Y/n-”

You lean forward, stopping just shy of his mouth and sighing roughly. His breath catches in his throat, and you smell the rum on his tongue.

“Be quiet, Tsukki. For once.”

You can confidently say you’ve never tasted rum quite like this.

It’s quick, but the jolt to your system is sharp, a live wire in your veins.

You pull away with the hint of a gasp, your pulse drumming in your ears. Tsukki stares with wide eyes and parted lips. You think you hear Yamaguchi mumble ‘ Holy shit’ to Kiyoko, but you can’t spare any attention for it.

Tsukki’s eyes flick between yours and then back down to your mouth, and the drumming in your ears skips a few beats.

He leans in before you can pull away.

This kiss is as short as the last, but he lingers this time, alcohol tainting the air that hovers between your lips. You gather the courage to try again before he does, and it’ll only be later that you realize how relieved you are that he tangles his fingers in your hair and kisses you until his courage finds him, too.

His lips are softer than you’d expected – rough and assured, just like everything else about him, but soft nonetheless. You find yourself unshakeably curious to discover if they’re still as soft after just one more kiss. Over and over again, curiosity on repeat. Needing to keep testing it, because there’s an almost desperate need to keep finding out.

Just one more, you think, again and again. One more, and then you’ll stop. 

His other hand finds your thigh, palm searing hot against your skin, and his tongue brushes against your bottom lip just as his fingers slide accidentally under the hem of your shorts. Your heart jumps, and your teeth catch ever so softly on his lip. A sound escapes from deep in his throat, one that sounds suspiciously like a groan.

What an addicting little sound it turns out to be.

Just as Tsukki’s fingertips are digging into the plush skin of your thighs, Yamaguchi clears his throat loudly behind you. Kiyoko’s got her hand on your shoulder, pulling you away.

“Y/n,” She says gently, tugging on your sleeve.

You gasp, realizing what’s happened and reeling back quickly. Tsukki’s fingers tighten in your hair for just a second, but he lets you go almost immediately, his eyes wide as he comes to his senses, too.

“What-” He breathes, gaze flicking in a panic between your lips and your eyes. You stare back, your heart pounding in your ears and your head spinning like a carousel. “What was that for?”

You just scan him, watching as a blush blossoms furiously across his cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You blink, your voice muffled in your ear when you respond.

“Just practicing. For Sunday.”

And then you whirl around, your back pressed against the bottom of the couch as you stare emptily at the TV. Yamaguchi snatches the remote from the floor and boosts the volume until there’s no way you and Tsukki can have a conversation about this.

Kiyoko and Yamaguchi start to whisper furiously to each other after a few minutes, but you and Tsukki stay silent until it gets late enough that you all fall asleep.

–

You wake sometime around 3am, shifting and covering your eyes with a quiet groan when you realize the TV’s still on. The room is completely dark otherwise, so you have to search clumsily around the floor for the remote, still tired but thankfully not drunk anymore. 

You only realize Tsukki’s awake and sitting on the couch when you see that the remote is in his hand. His eyes are trained on the screen, unseeing, and he’s got his cup in his other hand. He flicks his gaze down to yours when he senses you looking at him.

“Too bright?” He mumbles, quiet enough not to wake your friends, Kiyoko sleeping on the armchair and Yamaguchi passed out on the rug. You shake your head, joining him on the couch and shivering slightly from the running air conditioner.

“Body heat,” You say plainly, and he rolls his eyes but allows you to press your side against his regardless. “You’re gonna be too hungover for practice tomorrow if you keep drinking.” You gesture to the cup in his hand, watching a slow smirk stretch across his face.

“What’s wrong?” He teases, setting both the cup and the remote on the table in favor of draping his arm around your shoulders with an mocking lift of his eyebrows. “Worried I won’t do well on Sunday? You must really want to kiss me.”

You don’t bother hiding the flush of your cheeks in the dark, too busy rolling your eyes. “You recovered quickly, Tsukishima,” You say, your tone just as airy and full of amusement when his eyes light up a little at the use of his name. “Alcohol got you feeling confident?”

“It had you feeling confident,” He counters, smirk deepening when he sees the embarrassment cross your expression. And then he leans into you, nose brushing against yours and breath fanning across your lips when he whispers to you.

You only realize he’s actually about to kiss you when his gaze drops to your mouth.

“ My turn .”

You suck in a surprised breath, unsure what to do with the excited flutter of your heart when his lips turn out to be just as soft as they were before. Your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, and you shiver when his hand finds your waist, his palm heated even through your shirt.

“Still cold?” He whispers against your lips, angling his head and smiling when you lean into him. You shake your head, because you’re suddenly so, so warm, but then you realize his breath doesn’t smell like rum anymore.

“You were drinking water?” You ask, a flash of heat spreading from the crown of your head down to your toes when he just kisses you again with an amused hum.

“Did you really think I would risk being hungover tomorrow?”

You breathe unsteadily, goosebumps spreading all over your skin when he drops his head and brushes his lips against a spot just under your ear. “Why are you kissing me, Tsukki? You’re sober.”

His breath is warm when it fans out over your throat, his voice low in your ear and muffled against your skin. “ So are you. ”

Your stomach flips. He’s right.

“But I wasn’t the first time.” You lift your brows, mustering as much confidence as you can. “What’s your excuse? You wanna kiss me that bad, Tsukki?”

He lifts his head then, meeting your eyes evenly as a knowing look fills his expression.

“Just practicing, of course – for Sunday.”

The implication brings you pause, and then you laugh, covering your mouth so as to not wake your friends up. Tsukki watches you do it, a matching smile spreading across his lips.

It’s relieving, being able to laugh about this with him.

After an entire week of moments belonging to the public – moments that have meant too much, with too many eyes on them and too much on the line to risk messing them up – this is one moment that belongs only to you and him. One moment when you don’t have to think so hard.

Maybe that’s been the issue all along.

“Tsukki…” You start, meeting his eyes with an idea growing in your head. He hums, watching you closely. “What if we just… stop thinking so much about this?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, only offering a long, slow blink. And then he tilts his head, the conspiratorial look in his eye all too enticing. You’ve been seeing that look your whole life.

“You wanna have some fun, Y/n?”

Maybe you’re just as much trouble as he is.

“I could be into that.”

–

It turns out that ‘ having fun ’ looks a lot like you sitting in the packed stands on Sunday afternoon, wearing the name TSUKISHIMA on your back and hiding your phone from your friends as you text him. Both teams are down below doing their pre-game stretches, and you wait for Tsukki to be near his bag pressing send .

You don’t hear the quiet ding from where you sit, but you see his blond head swivel around at the sound. He extracts the phone from his bag, and you watch him read the messages.

[1:21 PM]

You: in case you forgot

You: winning this game comes with the added bonus of me kissing the soul out of your body

You: in front of all these people

You catch the smile that creeps out just before he smothers it, and your own smile is hidden behind your hand. He looks around, searching the bleachers until he finds you. He shakes his head at you, typing rapidly and sending his response just as Koganegawa’s approaching him.

[1:24 PM]

Tsukki: dont threaten me with a good time, you freaky little dementor

Tsukki: you WILL be paying up when i make the winning point

You snort into your hand, locking your phone and waving off Yamaguchi and Kiyoko when they give you matching looks of interest. The intro commentary starts shortly after, with the teams greeting each other through the net. The game starts promptly at 1:30 PM.

True to his word, Tsukishima Kei makes the winning point at 2:58 PM. 

You watch in disbelief as his block sends the ball back over the net, spinning quickly and slamming against the floor between two players on the other team. You’re left stunned in your seat as everyone jumps up, the name on your back screamed across the entire stadium as Frogs fans celebrate yet another win at the hands of their star rookie.

Kiyoko grabs you and hauls you to your feet, and you can’t help the laughter that fills your body as you cheer alongside her.

By the time you find him in the mass of his teammates, Tsukki’s already looking right at you. His teammates all jump around him, shoving and hugging and clapping him on the back. 

But all he does is lift his arm, a single finger pointed right at you.

Yamaguchi makes a noise of surprise, and Kiyoko turns to you with a shocked smile.

“You’re not actually…?”

Tsukki crooks his finger twice, beckoning you to him with a satisfied grin.

'Show them who you are.'

Kyoutani sees you next, his smile widening as he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, in that deep baritone that shakes the room-

“ Kiss! ” 

Your laughter turns giddy, and you dart out into the aisle to get to the stairs. You take them two at a time, his oversized jersey fluttering behind you as you run down to the court. You hear the whispers and whooping all around you as the fans realize where you are and where you’re headed, but you ignore them in favor of meeting Tsukki halfway across the court.

The smile he gives you is that wild, genuine one that reminds you of your childhood – of playground sand boxes and toy dinosaurs, of excited storytelling and playing volleyball with Akiteru in their backyard.

Of a Tsukishima Kei who would pretend he knew nothing about why the class bully was suddenly sporting a bloody nose after making fun of your body – one who would pretend he couldn’t hear you when you’d say you weren’t hungry, only shoving a spoonful of his lunch in your mouth with that smile that would make you forget why you were crying in the first place.

That’s the Tsukishima Kei that picks you up now and spins you around like you weigh nothing, his arms wrapping around you while you tangle your fingers into his hair and kiss him like your life depends on it. He tastes like salt, and he breathes a laugh past your lips when the crowd starts to follow Kyoutani’s lead, the room erupting in cheers and the thunderous chant of ‘ Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! ’. 

“ Congratulations, ” You whisper against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. A shiver runs down your spine when he holds you there, his grip on your hips and thighs possessive and his body flush against yours. 

You wonder if maybe he’d seen his life in your smile, too.

“ You gonna greet me like this at every game? ” He asks between kisses, the chanting and cheering becoming nearly overwhelming. 

“ Only if you win, ” You laugh, barely able to hear the response he gives you even in your little pocket of solitude.

“ Guess I should start training for Nationals.”

You’d forgotten how easy it is to have fun with him.

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

Chapter 9: The Peach Soiree

Dress Inspo for this chapter

TW: Simone's a bitch (we know this), and Olive's right up there with her (so surprising I know xD), mentions of smoking and drinking, mild mentions of nudity & allusions of sex, some mild descriptions of physical pain, mild panic attacks, dirty thoughts, the crew at 22West are THIRSTY! Quinn's running the show and she's wild, truth or dare, and a mild cliffhanger for y'all This chapter is almost 40 pages long so settle in and remember to drink water!

Jake didn’t know what to expect when he’d finally made his way home from the odd, relaxed day with Lena and her mob of family and friends. But he certainly wasn’t expecting Simone and Olive to be waiting at his door. “Fuck,” he cursed quietly.

Simone’s smile was utterly bitter as she looked him up and down. “Finally! So good of you to come home.”

“Relax, Simone, I just took a day.”

“Took a day?” She scoffed. “That’s not exactly what I’d call skipping work and getting fucked up on god knows what all night long.” Olive stayed quiet as she shifted out of the way of the two. Jake opened his apartment door, silently moving into the messed up space while Simone followed hot on his heels. She took one look around and shook her head. “This is just pathetic, Jake.”

He picked the clothes up off the floor before starting on the empty bottles and cans of beer. “Oh fuck off. I didn’t say shit when your apartment was covered in empty wine bottles.”

That made her lips press a tight line as she examined his things, most likely searching for clues about what had set him off. Her eyes went to the little green frog that lay abandoned by his bathroom door, and as she bent over the pick it up, Jake felt a twinge of fear and embarrassment fill his gut. She looked the little thing over momentarily before rolling her eyes and tossing it to the side by the garbage. “So, are you going to tell me why you skipped work?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he replied.

“Not a big deal?” She echoed. “Suddenly, you almost getting fired from the job I have fought so hard for you to keep is not a big deal?”

Jake sighed, quietly wishing he had a beer left to chug. “I’m sorry. It was dumb and reckless, and I shouldn’t have done it. Okay? I know it was stupid, Simone. I just…” He sighed, meeting her pale gaze laced with concern and frustration. “I just needed a day.”

Slowly the blonde woman nodded, though none of her anger or tension lifted. “Well, that’s good. At least you know how ridiculous it was. Where were you?”

“Here,” he replied tensely. “I drank what I had and then went to Home Bar.”

“Do not lie to me, Jake,” Simone seethed, nodding at Olive. “She saw you at Home Bar for thirty minutes before you just left.”

Jake looked the girl up and down, taking in her nervous posture and the slight flush to her cheeks when he looked at her. His memory was hazy at best, but he didn’t remember seeing her. "We fuck or something? That why you’re here?"

"No…” She stammered. “I mean, we kissed a bit..."

"Huh, must not have been very good,” he replied, rolling his eyes and turning his back to the wide-eyed woman. 

He heard the soft noise of shock she made before he listened to Simone usher her out with a roaring applause of thanks and well wishes. His door closed behind her, and Simone sighed. "You just have to be unbearable, don't you?"

“It’s part of my charm,” he retorted, glancing at her as she moved to stand beside him.

“Where were you, Jake?” she asked again, softer this time, vulnerable.

Fucking… She wasn’t going to take this well. “I was safe. That’s what matters, right?”

Simone’s face curled into immediate anger as she shook her head. “You were with her, weren't you?"

"What if I was? Is that really so fuckin horrible?"

"YES, I've told you how I feel about her." She shoved herself away from him with a huff. “You just run around like a stupid dog yapping at her heels and begging her to fuck you!”

"Simone, it wasn't like that.”

"It is exactly like that," she hissed. "It is always like that with you. Because you don't hold anything sacred." She threw her hands up into the air with tears in her eyes. Then, she asked, “Is what we have SO unimportant to you that you can’t do just this ONE thing?”

For a second, he considered bringing up that it wasn’t just one thing… that it had been everything, anything she asked of him for years before now. For one tiny second, Jake considered telling Simone he was doing what he wanted for a change for one tiny second, but he held his tongue and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Simone. I know you don’t trust her and that you’re worried about me. But… Lena’s my friend.”

Simone didn’t like that word, not when Lena was involved. “She is not your friend, Jake. She doesn’t know you! Not like I do!”

“I never said she did,” Jake tried to argue.

“That girl doesn’t care about you. She’s only interested in using you to get what she wants so she can feel better about her sad little life.” Simone’s eyes were wide and tearful as she continued, “She is just going to use you and abandon you.”

This time, he didn’t hold his tongue as he said, “She could have already done all that.”

“What?” Simone asked a little bit, breathlessly.

There was no going back now. “Lena could have done whatever she wanted to me from the start Simone. She could’ve fucked me, stolen my money, got me fired… she could have done anything she wanted from the moment she got here. And… All she’s done is offer to be my friend.”

Simone bit her lip. “That doesn’t mean she’s a good person, Jake.”

“I’m not saying that it’s just…”

“I’ve read her file.”

“FUCK THE FILE SIMONE!” He yelled with an exasperated sigh. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. After all the shit Tess put both of us through… I know how you feel about her and her feelings about you, but please, just leave me out of it.”

“You would choose her over me?”

Jake’s whole face scrunched up as he shook his head. “You and I are… we’re us, Simone. We’re always together, and that’s not gonna change because I have other friends. It never has.”

After a minute of silence, Simone sighed, “I know you, Jake. No one will ever know you the way I do.”

“I know,” he replied softly. “I know that.”

“Good,” she said, composing herself. “Well, if you want to get your heart broken by some redheaded floozy, I clearly can’t stop you.”

“Thank you.” It was likely the best he’d get, so with the air still tense with everything both of them hadn’t said, Jake asked, “So, do I still have a job?”

She nodded. “Of course you do. Tomorrow and no more showing up late, Jake. I mean it.”

Jake nodded, setting his head against hers with a sigh. “Thanks, Simone.”

She only leaned into him for a moment before she pulled away and headed for the front door. “Get some sleep. You’re going to be in for a long few days.”

Bending down, Jake picked the stuffed frog up off the floor and collapsed onto his bed, shutting his eyes with relief. Work was going to suck the next few weeks, knowing Howard and his already strong dislike of the bartender. But Jake didn’t mind too much. He lifted his phone and snapped a picture of the dumb frog, sending it to Lena with a quippy message.

I think she’s happy to see me.

He waited in silence, taking in the nervous tingle of anticipation that filled his gut as he waited for her reply. Then, a moment later, his phone lit up with a shitty picture of her frog, a cigarette poorly taped to its mouth, and Patrick’s bare ass in the background. 

He was looking grumpy, so I gave him a cigarette. P.S. I’m so sorry about my brother's ass blinding you. He strips when he gets too drunk. >:(

He chuckled, shifting to bury his head into his shitty pillows and slowly letting sleep take him.

*

I threw my head back into the mess of pillows as his lips skimmed down my body, tongue darting out to taste the tattoo that lined beneath my breast and down my ribs. His teeth grazed down my sides as he shifted further, burying his face between my thighs and connecting his lips to my throbbing core without a second thought.

My back arched off the bed as his tongue swirled my clit, and his fingers dug into the meat of my thighs, keeping them open for his feast. I moaned as the pressure began to build in my gut, quickly and with no signs of stopping. Then, as my vision blurred, my hands dug into his short hair, tugging at the roots until he was forced to pull away. Then, with a deep chuckle, his teeth bit into my inner thigh, drawing out a loud and uncontainable moan of his name. “Jake!”

His tongue smoothed over the angry mark he left with his teeth as he raised himself over me with shining lips and a smug grin. “Get comfy, 'cause I’m just getting started, princess.”

A loud bang echoed from the bathroom door, pulling my brain out of the hazy heat-filled dream as I sat upright in bed and groggily looked around my room. Patrick cracked my door to the bathroom open slightly and, still half asleep, grumbled. “Sorry, sis. That leprechaun bastard was givin’ me that look again.”

“No problem,” I answered, throwing myself back onto my pillows and staring at the ceiling. “No problem at all…” Fuck.

I didn’t sleep well after that, waking up every hour after from the same dream or one far more heated. When the sun finally rose and lit up my windows, I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to prepare for a long, exhausting work day. Patrick and Peter groggily joined me shortly. All of us huddled around the sink to alternate brushing our teeth before they headed into the kitchen to make breakfast while I showered. Every time I closed my tired eyes, I could see dream Jake’s smug grin and feel the weight of his body settled over mine. It was infuriating. 

Work tonight was going to be weird. You're not some lovesick schoolgirl! I scolded myself as I got dressed and pulled my hair back. Jake is still Jake. It was just a dumb dream. A dumb dream he doesn't even know about! I looked into the mirror and ran my hands down my tired-looking face. "Pull it together, Lena. It's not a big deal."

Patrick and Peter were well into the swing of their morning by the time I headed downstairs. "Feelin' okay, girly?" Pat asked, looking around a punching back to examine my face.

Peter, holding two cats in his arms, looked closer too. "You look like shit."

"I didn't sleep well, that's all," I answered.

"I thought I heard you last night," Patrick replied. "Bad dream?"

It was ridiculous how my heart instantly fluttered. "He was fine - IT… IT was fine."

Peter smiled, leaning back against the front counter with a lanky finger in my face. "I know that look!"

Patrick's bellowing laughter echoed off the walls as he grinned ear to ear. "Ohhh Lena had a sex dream!"

"Shut up," I grumbled, petting one of the cats as I approached the front door.

"Weird, I thought your little boyfriend would have been better than fine."

"Shut up!" I hollered at them again, hurrying out the door. "Nosey assholes."

The restaurant wasn’t too busy, judging by the normal-looking pace of the kitchen. Still, Will quickly informed me I’d be a server as Mr. Hiragana would be dining tonight. It was bittersweet. On the one hand, I looked forward to seeing an old friend; on the other, I had to be a server for the night. So, I went about my routine, stuffing Jake’s jacket back in his locker - after hunting down Sasha for the new combination - and getting changed to look presentable for the guests.

I set the tables and polished the salt shakers, somehow keeping my head down enough that the sassy bartender hadn't noticed me yet. Simone seemed to hover closer to the bar than usual, making small talk with Jake and instructing Olive in that tone that made a chill run down my spine. She sent me cold, unmasked glares every time I passed by, but I could glare too. There was no hiding between us now. I knew what she was, and she knew it. What was odd was how Olive seemed to hop on board with Simone's hatred of me.

The brown-haired girl kept Jake busy enough so no conversation could be had between us, and soon service was in full swing. Once the guests arrived, and no one was around to distract Jake, I could feel his eyes on me as I worked. On a typical night, I would've just brushed it off. But with the vivid dreams still lodged in my brain, every look he gave me made everything tingle and burn. It was pathetic.

Fifteen minutes before Mr. Hiragana's reservation, I was helping stock the bar as everyone else was tending to the guests. Jake watched me refill the ocean with a smirk. "You look tired."

I nervously laughed it off. "Yeah, Patrick's a handful when he drinks. Always thinks leprechauns are messing with him."

"That sounds like a very entertaining sight," he replied. "Mind going down to the cellar and grabbing some more champagne?"

"I've got a few minutes," I answered, moving around Nicky. 

"Thanks, princess," he called out, continuing to mix the drink he was making. My heart hammered, and that stupid feeling, hot and needy and definitely NOT what I wanted to feel, swelled in my gut again. "Get comfy, 'cause I'm just getting started, princess." I could see the dream as if it had been real, as if I'd watched some movie centered around Sasha and Ari's deprived notions of Jake and me.

Thankfully the chilled wine cellar alleviated some of my discomfort. I grabbed the champagne and lingered for a minute before returning to the bar. Jake's smile didn't help, and the way his fingers brushed against mine as he took the bottle from me made things much harder to ignore. Jake had brought a blush to my cheeks with a cute tilt of his head and a crooked smile. 

How did this happen? I asked myself as I watched him flip glasses in the air and twirl a knife or two between his fingers to give the guests seated in front of him a good show. I used to be battle-hardened. It took far more for pretty bartenders to make me blush than a damn smile. I wanted nothing more than to slam my head into the top of the bar because the answer was blatantly obvious. 

Those other pretty bartenders weren't Jake. They weren't nearly as funny, caring, or pretty as he was.

"Lena," Roslyn - the hostess - called out, nodding to the door. "Your VIP is here."

"Thanks," I whispered, approaching Mr. Hiragana at the door. Then, with a deep bow, I greeted him fondly. "It's a pleasure to have you back so soon, Mr. Hiragana. Your table is right this way."

He bowed with a deep smile, gently taking hold of my arm as I led him through the commotion of the restaurant up to the second floor. "It is good to be back among familiar company."

Once he and his guests were seated, I took their wine order and recommended food Scott had added to their custom menus. He chose a Japanese wine and one of our more expensive bottles. Then, with a humble grin, he nodded to the woman beside him. "My wife has a taste for French vintages. A taste my daughter and son seem to have developed as well."

"The French vintages are quite flavorful. We have some of the best in our cellar."

"And, tell your chef to make us whatever he desires." Mr. Hiragana smiled. "I wish to see what one forged from this… Place has to offer."

As I slid through the kitchen doors, Scott sighed. "What's the order?"

I shrugged. "He says he wants you to cook whatever you want."

"Seriously?" Scott deadpanned. "Anything I want?"

"That's what he said," I replied. "Give 'em hell, Chef."

For the first time in a while, I saw Scott smile. "Alright, listen up!"

The wine cellar was quiet, the only place one could describe as peaceful during the insanity of service. I grabbed the two bottles of wine and headed back to Mr. Hiragana's table to find Olive talking next to them. If it hadn't been for the tight face of Mr. Hiragana's wife, I would have let it slide. But, instead, tapping her shoulder, I asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just ensuring our guests are cared for," she answered. "They didn't have any food or wine yet."

I held up the bottles, “I was getting them from the wine cellar.” I moved to pour them when Olive took one out of my hands and uncorked it quickly and clumsily, trying to pour some into one of the tall glasses. Mr. Hiragana beheld the lack of technique and lack of his traditions with a sad look. "Olive," I hissed. "The kitchen probably needs a follow."

She looked at me with a scoff, bumping the table softly and sloshing wine all over Mr. Hiragana's wife. Then, with a startled noise, she apologized, lifting a napkin to try and clean her off. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the unhappy woman. Then, I held the rag out to her with a deep bow. "My most humble apologies. Our new trainee can get carried away." She took the rag with a quiet thanks. "There is a restroom just down this hall if you wish for privacy."

"Thank you," she whispered. 

After showing her to the bathroom, I led Olive back to the kitchen, soaring Jake a frustrated look and shaking my head, and slammed the dirty tablecloth onto the counter. "What the hell was that?"

"I was just trying to help."

"Help who?" I demanded. "You made them uncomfortable and insulted them. And now you've embarrassed a soigne guest. Who does that help?"

She shifted on her feet, blinking rapidly as she tried to find a justification for her actions. "Simon says every guest is soigne and that the only way to learn is by doing."

I rolled my eyes. "You are not a server. You are a back waiter, and you are supposed to follow your trails and learn. You shouldn't be doing anything without supervision."

"What's going on?" Simone asked, regarding Olive with a gentle look.

"Your trail just royally fucked up on one of the VIP tables." So I grabbed new place settings.

Simone Questioned Olive gently before she shook her head. "Mistakes happen. I'm certain you are perfectly capable of placating your guests."

"Just as I'm certain you're capable of teaching your trail how to pour a glass of wine properly," I retorted, moving past them and quickly resetting their table. "Forgive me again for the blatant misjudgment of our new trainee. Please accept our humble apology for a complimentary bottle of wine to take home."

Mr. Hiragana bowed his head slightly. "Very generous of you. Please, relax, Ms. Harrow. We understand the intricate workings of this enterprise and thus understand there are bound to be some… Fuck ups."

I laughed at his abrupt switch to English and smiled. "I'll go check on your food."

Scott was hunched over the plating take when I returned to the kitchen. He didn't look up when asked, "The fuck was all that about?"

"Olive," I replied. "She decided my VIP table looked neglected and took it upon herself to badger them."

"Fuckin idiot." Straightening up, he tossed a rag over his shoulder and motioned to the plates. "Your VIP ticket."

"Thanks." I grabbed the plates and moved swiftly up the stairs, only to find Olive again looking over Mr. Hiragana's table. She was profusely apologizing as she set random plates in front of them.

Mr. Hiragana shook his head as he spotted me. "I do not believe this is for our table."

I set the correct plates in front of them without a word to Olive, explaining the custom dishes while now holding whoever's food this was and bowing. "Please enjoy your meal, and let me know if there's anything else we can do for you." Then, with a thin smile, I motioned Olive toward the stairs. "Follow me. Let's figure out where this food goes."

Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes from behind the bar as Olive and I started down the stairs. The slight bump against my back was enough of a shift to knock my feet out from under me. My vision blurred as the edges of the world flew past. It felt slower, as falling always did, dragging out the sheer adrenaline rush as the body prepared itself for the incoming pain the ground had to offer. 

The plates shattered first, loud and attention-grabbing. I hit the ground only seconds later, my ankle twisting as I tried and failed to catch myself on the railing. Instead, my side slammed into the edge of the stairs, jagged and breath-stealing as I tumbled the rest of the way down, landing almost face-first in the mess of food, broken glass, and cutlery. Still, for a split second, the pain rattling through my bones was one of cold snow soaking through my clothes and the harsh sting of my skin skidding along the pavement.

"Lena!" His voice echoed in the quiet night, colder than the snow beneath me. I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the blinding pain to push myself toward the blurred images of burly men and shining metal. Behind me, I could hear his car door slam shut and practically feel his footsteps closing the distance between us. "Get back in the fucking car, or so help me god, I'll break every bone in your fucking body!"

Blood ran down my chest as I pushed myself to move quicker, swallowing the dry lump in my throat and using my pain to call out. "Dom!"

The hazed figures all moved, but my eyes were focused on one among them. The one I knew was going to put an end to this. The raw, animalistic growl that echoed behind me brought tears spilling from my eyes. "LENA!"

Once the ringing in my ears faded, I could make out the fake concern of the customers as they all rose from their seats to get a better view of me on the ground. The second sound I heard was the clattering of abandoned objects at the bar as Jake rushed to my side. I could make out my name on his lips, but I didn’t hear it the first time. He looked over my arms and hands, checking for blood before he turned with a deep scowl toward the brown-haired girl that stood frozen on the steps behind me. “What the fuck was that?”

“I-I…” She stammered. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Watch where you’re going!” He yelled. I grabbed his arm, still breathless and dizzy, as he pulled me to my feet. I tried to shake it off, to smile at the guests, and play it cool like all these people didn’t just watch me fall on my ass, but the second I tried putting weight on my foot, pain shot up my leg and nearly took me to the ground again. “Put your weight on me.”

Ari brushed past us, smiling and waving off everyone's concern. “She’s alright, everyone. Please return to your meals, and your servers will bring by a bottle of champagne compliments of the house.”

Jake shoved the kitchen door open, towing me with him. Scott turned and looked at my hobbling self before tossing his knives. “What the fuck happened?”

“Dumbass new girl pushed her down the stairs,” Jake answered, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He cursed quietly and shifted to bring an arm beneath my legs, swinging me up into his arms.

I winced, the aftershock of my side hitting the steps sending a jolt of pain up my ribs. “Fuck!”

“Sorry,” he said, moving quickly up the stairs and carefully toward the break room to set me on the couch. I forced myself to breathe evenly, forced the unpleasant memory of that night to fade back into the deep recesses of my mind. Jake's hands moved closer, and it took every ounce of control I had not to flinch. 

He took hold of my face, and his blue eyes examined mine, probably trying to see if I’d hit my head. Once he seemed satisfied I wouldn’t pass out, he moved, propping my foot up on the coffee table and unlacing my shoe. “Anywhere else hurt?”

Fumbling slightly, I pressed a few fingers to my ribs, testing the bone beneath the very obviously bruised skin. “Just my ribs. Nothing’s broken, though.”

He carefully peeled my sock off and held my swelling ankle in his hand with an angry shake of his head. “Stupid fuckin bitch.”

“It was an accident,” I told him, trying to get him to calm down enough to avoid trouble the remainder of the night.

“Sure as fuck didn’t look like one from where I was standing.”

“Jake,” I said softly, tugging on his shirt to get him to look at me. “I’m okay. Just a few bumps and bruises. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Will walked briskly through the door with concern creasing his face and making him look older. “Anything broken? Any bleeding?”

“No, and no,” Jake replied tensely.

“I’m fine," I said again, though it was more to Jake than Will.

Will shook his head. “Howard’s dealing with Olive right now. Obviously, you’re cut for the night, so you can rest up here til the end of service, or we can call your brothers-”

“No.” I shook my head and chuckled. “They’d just blow this all out of proportion. I’m fine. Really. I’ll just hang out til after service, and we can all head to Ozzy’s and deal with it there.”

“Okay. I’ll grab you some ice.”

With a bitter laugh, I looked down at my clothes, thoroughly covered in food and sauce. “How do you like my outfit?”

Jake chuckled, still tense and very obviously angry. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Grab my spare clothes out of my locker?”

He opened the locker and fished out the small bag of clothes I kept in case of an emergency like this one. Then, tossing me my shorts, he set the regular shoes and socks on the table next to my feet before he clicked his tongue. “Looks like you’re short a shirt.”

I grabbed the bag from him and dug through the extra socks with a frustrated sigh. “I must’ve taken it home to wash. Fuck!”

“Relax,” he urged, moving to his locker and pulling his shirt out. “You can just wear mine.”

“You only have one, though,” I said.

Jake smirked, raising his eyebrow at me. “Been rifling through my locker?”

I bit my bottom lip and shrugged. “I did kind of steal one of your cigarettes a while ago. Noticed then that you don’t keep a change of clothes lying around.”

“I live on the edge,” he replied, tossing me the shirt. “I’ll just wear this shirt home tonight.”

“Thanks.” I accepted his offer, not having other options besides walking around topless. His shirt was soft beneath my fingers. I took one quick moment to appreciate the gesture before realizing just how intimate it was. With that came the blushing and the slight uptick in my heartbeat. I extended my arms out to him, trying to push past the pure elated feeling that came when his eyes met mine. “Help me to the bathroom, please?”

He helped keep me on my feet until I reached the tiny bathroom off the side of the locker room, where the sink would suffice while I changed. Unfortunately, once I peeled the sticky shirt off and wiped the sauce splattered onto my skin, it became evident that my bra was fucked for the night. "Fucking…" I grumbled, unhooking the same thing and tossing it into my pile of clothes.

It felt good to finally change into a comfortable pair of shorts and Jake's even softer shirt. His cigarettes and spicy cologne almost smelled like citrus filled my senses as his shirt hung loosely on my frame. You're here, I told myself. You're safe. I looked at myself in the mirror for a minute, silently cursing how obvious his black shirt made my nipples look, but it'd have to do.

When I hobbled out of the bathroom, Jake moved off the wall and helped me back to the couch, where he drank in the sight of me in his shirt for a minute or two. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Before you say it, I'm not wearing a bra. Damn sauce soaked through my shirt and ruined it. So yes, those are my nipples, and no, we will not make any comments about it."

He bit his lip, clearly keeping the wide range of choice words to himself. "Alright." He sat down next to my foot and propped my leg up with the old cushions of the couch. “That feel any better?”

With a content sigh, I melted into the couch. “A little.”

“Ice,” Will announced, tossing the bag to Jake, who situated it on my ankle. Then, with a nervous look aimed at the bartender, Will cleared his throat. “We should get back to work.”

Jake looked up at him and scoffed. “You’re fuckin kidding, right? She just fell down the goddamn stairs, and we’re just gonna leave her up here for another two hours?”

“Hey,” I hissed at him, leaning over to shake his shoulder. “You, of all people, need to be worried about your own ass.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Please, Jake. I don’t want you to get fired because of me.”

We stared one another down for a minute before he finally nodded. “Fine. But if you feel like you’re gonna pass out or anything, fuckin yell to someone, okay?”

I smiled at him, squeezing his arm. “I’ll be sure to scream your name.”

That broke the tension. He chuckled, eyes flickering down to my chest and my obviously peaked nipples beneath his shirt. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

Being left to quietly rest in the still bustling and insane workplace felt weird. As I sat there, counting the scuff marks on the lockers, I couldn’t help but feel bad that I was forced to sit out because of some dumb accident. The ice slowly numbing the pain in my ankle was a nice distraction from that feeling. My eyes closed after a while, the smell of Jake’s cologne slowly easing me into a relaxed state while I waited out the rest of the service. Of course, my brothers were going to be pissed. Peter especially.

He never really got into why he held such a deep resentment of this place and Howard, but this wouldn't exactly make it better. I always assumed it was just the memory of the side of our family that didn't want him. When our parents divorced and custody came into discussion, my mother told my dad she only wanted me. Said she'd leave him everything else if he gave her majority custody over me, or she'd take everything he had, including my brother.

It was a decision my dad held a lot of guilt about. One I didn't know he'd even had to make until I was almost eighteen. But whatever the reason behind my brother's attitude toward it all, I just had to trust he'd tell me if or when I needed to know.

"How's the ankle?" Howard asked, startling my eyes open and up to the doorway he appeared in with hardly any noise. Slowly he stepped into the locker room with a tight smile and his hands clasped in front of him.

I sat up and offered him a shrug. "Nothing too bad. It should be fine by tomorrow if I'm careful with it."

Howard nodded, his eyes fixed on my leg propped up on the old coffee table and a bunch of cushions. Before they moved up, seemingly settling on my stomach or chest. "And the ribs?" His long fingers extended down, running lightly over my foot, down toward my ankle, moving the ice pack and applying light pressure as he tested the swelling. It sent an uncomfortable shiver up my spine. "Well," he said, pulling his eyes from my chest to my leg. "You've had worse."

"Yeah…" I replied stiffly. "Don't worry, I won't sue or anything."

"I wasn't worried about that."

I smiled a bit tensely. "I'm alright, Howard."

The commotion of the others clamoring up the stairs seemed to snap him out of his daze-like state. Howard made his way out the door, nodding to everyone as he passed them. Ari and Jake looked after him with deep-set frowns. Finally, Jake turned to me and gestured to Howard. "What'd he want?"

Shrugging, I replied. "Dunno. Probably wanted to check in to make sure I wasn't thinking about suing."

"Well, if he's ever bugging you, just say the word."

"Yeah, 'cause beating up the manager that didn't fire you is such a solid plan." 

Jake rolled his eyes as a quick look filled them as if he'd just remembered something. "I've got you to thank for that. The asshole said it was you that changed his mind."

My eyes furrowed. "When was this?"

"This morning at my disciplinary meeting," Jake said, looking over his shoulder to smirk at me. "So, thanks for having my back, princess."

God damn, that fucking nickname. I smiled back, praying that I wasn't blushing too hard. "Well, it wouldn't exactly be fair if I didn't use my Glover reputation to pull some strings every now and then."

Everyone changed into their casual clothes quickly and started filtering downstairs for drinks. Ari plopped down on the couch next to me, shaking a bottle of pills. “Need something to take the edge off?”

“No thanks,” I answered. “Will’s ice pack helped with most of the pain.”

Will gave me an awkward finger-gun motion before he shook his head. “Why did I do that?”

Jake was the last to emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in his simple jeans, work shirt, and jacket. He grabbed his cigarettes from his locker and stuffed them into his pocket before standing beside me. I smiled and opened my arms wide. “Ready to carry me down the stairs?”

“Come on,” Jake replied, hoisting me up. “Let’s go get you a drink.”

Simone and Olive rose from the stairwell the second we walked through the doorway. The blonde woman regarded me in Jake's arms, wearing his shirt, with a tight face and fully clenched jaw. I could practically see the words I'd spoken swirling in her eyes. Jake stepped off to the side, mumbling something about being careful on the stairs to make Olive avoid eye contact with both of us. To my surprise Simone kept her mouth shut as she passed through to the locker room with Olive behind her. If Jake had been bothered by her cold attitude, he didn't express it.

The bar erupted with claps and sarcastic quips as soon as we entered the kitchen doors. I rolled my eyes and flipped everyone off as Jake set me in a chair before he joined Nicky behind the bar to make my drink. Sasha slid in next to me, throwing an arm over my shoulder. "How is your little baby ankle, Tiger Bitch?"

"I'm fine," I replied, pointing to everyone else, clearly being back more sarcastic quips at my expense. "You have fifteen seconds to get it out of your system before I start smacking people for bringing this up."

They all shouted their jokes over one another and let laughter fill the room. Roslyn tapped my shoulder and quietly gestured to a man, one I recognized as Mr. Hiragana's assistant. Bowing, I began with another apology, "Please offer my most sincere apologies to your employer."

"Mr. Hiragana does not fault you nor the establishment for the… Turn this evening took. He was more concerned with making certain you were alright."

I smiled at the enduring kindness of my old friend. "I am. Thank him for his concern for me."

"I will," the man said. "However, this is not the reason for my visit." He pulled a card out of his pocket and extended it to me with a deep bow. "My employer tasks me with delivering this to you."

The business card was simple and elegant, with a wild rainbow koi fish drawn on the back with a date, time, and address. "What's this?"

“Mr. Hiragana would like to speak with you when he visits next month,” the man said. “The date and time are on the back of this card. You may bring whomever you wish, but please ensure they know this is a meeting to discuss potential business.”

"Thank you," I said, bowing as the man turned and left.

Nicky watched him leave. "Everything good, Red?"

"Yeah," I answered, running my fingers along the edges of the card, my eyes flickering over to Scott, who drank with the kitchen staff at the end of the bar.

Jake slid a glass of vivid red liquid garnished with two cherries across the bar to me with a smirk. "Your drink."

I lifted the glass to my nose with a smile. "Is this a bourbon cherry old-fashioned?"

"Yep. But, I'm thinking of calling it a bourbon cherry Lena."

"That's really bad," I giggled, taking a sip. It was perfect. The flavors blended together to highlight the cherry without losing the classic aspects of an old-fashioned. With an appreciative hum, I pointed to my drink. "This is really good, though."

Jake bowed, sarcastic and over the top with that shit-eating grin. "Your persistent lack of confidence in my bartending skills is astounding."

"Well, someone's gotta keep you humble," I teased, relaxing in my seat with my drink in hand as Scott stood next to me, asking for a refill of his drink. I looked at him for a minute before nudging him. "Hey, have you ever thought about opening your own place?"

Scott's expression didn't change as he nodded. "Yeah. Almost did a few months ago," he looked back at Jake with a glare, "But someone pussied out last minute."

The bartender just shook his head and flipped Scott off over his shoulder. "Wow, so you two were actually gonna do it?"

"I thought we were," Scott replied, slowly turning to look at me. "Why?"

I flashed the business card. "I think I might have an opportunity coming up. If you're interested in joining me."

As Scott took the card, scrutinizing it, I watched Jake. He'd gotten stiff at mentioning the past would-be business venture and grew even more so when I'd mentioned my upcoming meeting. “I’ll come,” Scott answered after a long pause. “The worst thing that happens is I tell him I’m not interested.”

“Jake?” I asked, trying to gauge his thoughts beyond the tense, tight-faced look of skepticism.

He shrugged, that standard mask of uninterested boredom covering whatever he really felt. "I dunno."

“You have time to think about it, so chill out with the grumpy glare.”

He rolled his eyes, pouring another drink for someone else. “I'll think about it."

Scott rolled his eyes, quickly copying the information on the card onto a piece of paper. "Yeah, whatever."

I decided not to push it, hoping to change the subject to the drink he'd made until everyone was ready to head out for the night. Between Sasha and Jake getting out the front door and beginning the trek to Ozzy's was pretty simple. Waving at Howard as we passed by, I said, "See you tomorrow!"

The walk was challenging when my Russian crutch got distracted by arguing with Heather. After falling behind the group, Jake stopped to shrug his jacket off and help me into it. "Jake-"

"You're shivering," he said simply, leaving no room for arguments. Then he turned his back to me with a pat. "Hop up."

"What?" I asked with a breathless laugh.

Jake raised a brow and nodded to his back. "Hop on my back. I'll carry you."

Fighting against the smirk, I asked, "Are you offering to give me a piggyback ride? Isn't that a bit… Childish?"

"Fine, walk then," he said, straightening up and moving forward to catch up with the group.

"Wait, no!" I stumbled toward him. "I don't wanna walk."

"Now you gotta say please," he taunted.

Giving him my best pouty lip, I looked up into his eyes with a big watery look, hopping closer to him. "Please, Jake… Please gimme a piggyback ride."

He shook his head but turned back around. "Hop on, freak."

I was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was for me to climb onto Jake's back and for him to carry me. His long legs quickly caught us up with the group, and he never faltered or lost his breath. Then, without warning, Jake spun around, forcing me to tighten my hold on him. "Asshole!" I laughed, laying my head on his shoulder, my arms squeezing him tighter around his middle, and cherishing this rare moment of joyful childish fun that made him laugh.

Once we'd gotten to the bar, phase two of firm reassurance that I was, in fact, alright began. Quinn and Prue jumped into sisterly shit talking. Patrick vanished into the alley to recruit Dom's help. Peter and Ozzy examined my ankle and looked over my head in a dizzying mess of hands and questions.

"I'm fine," I insisted, grabbing and squeezing Ozzy's hands. "Seriously, Oz, it's not a big deal."

The old man wasn't convinced. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two." I smiled. "Oz, breathe. It was just a little fall. I didn't even break anything. I'm okay."

He pressed a soft kiss to my head. "I'll get you more ice."

Peter carefully set my leg back into the booth. "I'll run upstairs and grab some pillows."

"That bitch is lucky she didn't follow you guys tonight." Quinn shook her head. "She woulda gone from moon eyes to missing an eye real quick."

I was glad Will had managed to distract Prue to keep the two of them from fueling Quinn's fire. "Breathe, please. You're getting that angry knot in your neck."

She kicked the booth seat with her foot. "Would you just get mad with me for once! You're never on my side with angry shit."

"Uh, the four months I slept missing my eyebrows after your little fire show begs to differ!"

Rolling her eyes, she slid out of her seat to get another drink just as Dom slid into the seat beside Jake. "Hear, you got pretty fucked up by some stairs."

I shrugged. "Or maybe the stairs got fucked up by me." He slid a little pill across the table. "Dom, I fell down a few steps. That's hardly relapse-worthy."

"You think I'm gonna waste the good shit on your sober ass?" He chuckled. "It's a mild painkiller. Stronger than the over-the-counter shit, but nothing addictive."

"You really are the best babysitter," I replied, taking the pill and chasing it with a chug of water.

Dom pressed his fingers to my pulse point, quietly taking note of my still irregular heartbeat. "Call it the Lena special. Holler if you need me." He nodded to Jake with a simple acknowledgment, "Tough guy."

*

After about thirty minutes of sitting, Jake noticed Lena relaxing next to him. Since her fall, she'd been tense with moments of far-off looks and a still, concerning silence. When Dom set the pill on the table, Jake was ready to toss him out of the booth. What kind of dick puts drugs in front of a corner addict? But, when the man explained it to the redhead, and she believed him, Jake dropped it. 

Lena hadn't hesitated to trust the drug-dealing biker when he told her it was a simple painkiller. She'd taken the pill without any signs of worry and had thanked him with one of their inside jokes he didn't fully get. Whatever it was, it helped her relax, putting Jake at ease even just for a minute.

He'd been so angry watching Olive's wide eyes tear up when he yelled at her. Truth be told, Jake was still pretty damn angry. Lena might've believed it was an accident. Still, Jake had noticed Olive's seemingly determined targeting of all Lena's tables throughout the night. In fact, it seemed wherever Lena went during her shift, the "moon-eyed bitch" as her brothers had called her, wasn't far behind her. She had shitty people skills and even shitter serving experience the whole night. That bump that caused her to fall was intentional. He just knew it.

Lena shifted, laying back in the booth they shared and settling with her head on his thigh, looking up at him with a smile. "Comfy?"

"Very," she answered. "You have very luscious thighs."

"Thank you," he shook his head. "Most girls just focus on the raw sex appeal."

Her eyes sparkled at his teasing. "Lucky for you, I'm not like most girls."

Jake couldn't help but admire her looking up at him. His heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, lucky me."

"God, just fucking make out already," Quinn whined across the table.

Lena quickly lifted her hand and flipped her off as Sasha strolled in from the dance floor. "Tiger, come dance with me!"

"Uhh, ankle," she reminded him.

Sasha pulled the redhead up out of the booth with a wide smile. "Come, little cripple, daddy will carry you!"

As he skipped away with Lena tossed over his shoulder, Jake couldn't help but laugh at the Russian's insanity. But, of course, Lena played into it, having fun with Ari, Sasha, and Heather as they bounced around beneath the shifting lights. Her breasts bounced more noticeably in his shirt, free of her bra. She was mesmerizing, especially in his clothes.

“You’ve got it bad,” Quinn said, pulling his attention from Lena to her watching him over the table with knowing eyes.

Jake shrugged, trying to keep himself from looking back at the redhead and the Russian. “I don’t-”

“Oh, stop trying to deny it,” she begged with a groan. “You two are literally the biggest fucking liars!”

He appreciated the strippers' honest bluntness but hardly needed her to point out the obvious. Not when he’d remembered bits and pieces of his drunken night, or more specifically, how he’d thought of almost nothing but her the whole time. He remembered waking up in her bed with her soft, warm figure curled up beside him. Her arms draped over his waist, hands occasionally dipping beneath his pants to settle onto the warm skin of his hip when they apparently got too cold. That morning was the best of his life, and it only further cemented the truth he’d realized trying to entertain Olive. He wanted Lena. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. 

It was a terrifying truth to come to terms with, but how could he deny it when she was always there? "Sorry."

"Just… Tell me something, honestly, for a change." Quinn nodded toward Lena. "What do you want from this friendship? Casual sex? Some heavy petting?"

"Nothing," he said, the words… The full realization slipped out without second thought. "I just want her. In whatever way she'll have me."

Quinn smiled. "I was wrong about you. When she first brought you up I thought, great, here comes another dick looking for some quick, easy pussy." She shook her head with a smile. "But Lena was right."

He tilted his head. "Right about what?"

"The night she got shit-faced and gushed about you," she clarified. "One of the things she said was that she was convinced you’d turn out to be a big old softie beneath that assholish exterior."

“I’m hardly a softie,” he grumbled.

She just shrugged. “Thanks for being honest. I’ll make sure it’s rewarded when the day of the peach comes.”

He shook his head at her odd phrasing but still muttered quietly, “Thanks.”

When everyone had drank their fill and slowly began filtering out of the bar for the night, Dom sat down next to Lena, who was half asleep at their table. He nodded to the door. “You can head out. I’ll make sure she gets home.” Though he had no reason not to trust Dom, Jake felt an uncomfortable, anxious feeling rise in his gut at the thought of leaving her alone. 

As if Quinn noticed, she patted his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Prue, and I will make sure she survives the night.”

Jake brushed her hair out of her face and smiled down at her. “I’m heading out. Try not to fall down any stairs while I’m gone.”

Lena made a face but smiled at him and gave him a salute. “See you later, alligator.”

*

My ankle was perfectly fine after a few days of lightwork and a fancy seat by the bar with the ever-important task of polishing the glassware. Olive hadn’t attempted to talk to me, not even to apologize, and Simone, oddly enough, kept her distance as well. Jake seemed somewhat concerned, but he never said anything about it, and even though I was tempted to ask, I let it slide in favor of honoring our rule. No talking about Simone. 

The day before Quinn’s big soiree, I woke up to a text message from her. Change of plans. Dress shopping today at 5. Meet at Nana’s for dinner and stay the night at your place?

I groaned from my living room with a coffee in one hand and my phone in the other. Dress shopping with Quinn, in particular, was always fun, but when her party was on the line, our dresses had to be perfect. Sounds good. See you two there.

I spent most of the day cleaning my apartment and pulling my extra pillows and blankets out from my closet to ensure my bed, which we’d all most definitely end up sharing, had plenty for everyone. My little grumpy green Jake sat on my bed while I moved in a flurry of cleaning sprays and dishrags before I eventually paused to dress him up in a little makeshift cleaning outfit and snap a picture to send to Jake. 

He’s not very happy it’s cleaning day.

Dancing to my music, I barely heard my phone beeping as I vacuumed my living room carpet and dusted off my furniture. Jake was at work already - not wanting to get fired really did something for his sense of time - so there was no picture of his matching frog, but rather of Nicky, who looked at his phone with a deep quizzical look and his mouth half open in what I could only assume was gruff “what the fuck are you doing”. Nicky’s equally unhappy about cleaning day.

Texting at work? I’m so disappointed!

Shouldn’t you be cleaning, smartass?

Turning my phone around, I snapped a very shitty, too close, picture of me flipping off the camera with one of my cleaning gloves. I am cleaning, dumbass.

Lookin good in that ugly ass yellow. 

Get to work, Jake.

You texted me. He reminded before sending another message. Have a good day off. 

When it finally came time to meet Quinn and Prue, I hurried out my front door and started walking toward Nana’s. My apartment wasn’t too far from the old neighborhood. I enjoyed walking the crowded sidewalks and experiencing the city's life, which always made it feel so consuming. Everyone walked and talked to those with them or those on the other end of their phones. Businessmen and strippers and con artists, and regular-ass people all walked together in a way that made the city one of a kind. 

The loud roaring of an engine nearly made me cover my ears as my peaceful walk quickly turned to panic. I kept walking forward, eyes now scanning the crowd and the street for both the car and the man I knew drove it, but I couldn’t make out much in the thick group. I hurried my pace until I made it through Nana’s door with a relieved sigh. Tony was bold, but even he wouldn’t risk coming for me at Nana’s, not when at least six of Dom’s guys were here twenty-four-seven. Just to make sure, I looked to his booth and smiled at Ryker and Fluffy before moving to my seat by the wall.

“My Habibi!” Nana cheered, setting glasses and a water pitcher down at my table. “Where are your counterparts?”

“On their way, I’d assume,” I answered, kissing her cheeks as she did mine. “How’s your day been?”

She sighed, wiping sweat from her covered forehead. “Busy! But, as we say, all business is good business!”

Abdul, the large, slightly balding cook with a huge mustache and eyebrows to match, came out from the back and spoke with Ryker for a minute before he stopped by my table with a pat to the head. “There’s the red one!”

“How’s the back, Abdul?” I asked.

“Not so good,” he answered with a deep chuckle. “But I’ll live a few years longer, don’t worry.”

"Sorry, it’s so last minute, but Moe just got in a whole peach-colored shipment that’s going to be to die for, and I couldn’t resist!” Quinn said, sliding into the chair across from me. She looked around for a minute before asking, “Where’s Prue?”

I shrugged. “I thought she’d be behind you.”

We both turned our heads just in time to catch her and Will through the window. Prue’s cheeks were flushed, and Will’s whole face was bright red. Both of them were smiling like idiots. When they parted with a sweet kiss and our little Prue slid through the door, Quinn and I hopped into signing comments to her. She just rolled her eyes and sat down next to us. “Hello, my lovelies!”

“Someone got laid!” Quinn signed, bumping Prue’s shoulder. “How was he?”

Prue smiled sheepishly, the blush on her face deepening. “He was very good.”

Quinn and I made cooing noises at one another as we giggled. “Very good or veerrrryyy good?”

“Veerrrryyyyy good,” she answered. “Let’s just say I was right about that massive snake in his pants!”

We caught one another up about how the rest of our week had been before Quinn smiled evilly. “Whose excited for tomorrow?”

Prue raised her hand. “Me!”

I shook my head, glaring at my friend. “I know you’re up to something. You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

“I always have that look in my eyes,” Quinn argued. “But, you’re right. I do have quite the event planned out. Dresses, dinner, a limo.” She noticed how I visibly stiffened at the mention of the long, hideous car and stopped everything. “Shit, I totally forgot.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I haven’t freaked out over riding in cars for a while.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yeah, but cars aren’t limos, and I know you’ve got a lot of bad memories in those. I can find another car.”

I smiled. “Quinn, don’t worry about it. I’ll be alright. You two will be right there with me.”

“And Jake will be there too,” Prue noted.

“Yeah, and- wait…” I looked at Prue and signed. “Why would Jake be there?” She bit her lip and looked at Quinn, who sipped her drink. “Quinn. Why would Jake be there?”

“Because I’m going to invite them,” she answered casually.

“Them?”

She nodded. “Yeah, all your coworkers are gonna come with us.”

“Oh my god,” I whined. “Why would they all come with us anywhere?”

“Coney Island is more fun with a big group!” She insisted. “Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your sweet little Jakey?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are we doing this again?”

“Oh, we’re always doing this. Especially since you’re so adamant about lying to my face about how badly you want him.”

“It’s pretty obvious, Lena,” Prue replied.

For a split second, I remembered the dream I’d had a week ago, a colossal mistake on my part as Quinn could sniff out a sex dream miles away. Then, she stopped everything and pointed at me. “Oh my god, you’ve been thinking about him in a not, so we’re just friends way, haven’t you?”

“No!” I lied.

“Give us the deets!”

“It was one sex dream.” I paused. “Okay, maybe like four, but it’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Quinn cackled. “Oh, sweet child, it means everything!

I glared at both of them. “Fine. Invite all my coworkers. It’s your day. What you say goes.”

“Damn right,” Quinn agreed with a grin. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.”

“That’s what I am worried about.”

After we ate a quick meal - quick by Nana’s standards - we walked a few blocks up the road toward Moe’s. It was a small dress shop meant to be cheaper than practically everywhere in the city, but most people didn’t glance at it. I’d be the first to admit Moe’s was run down. It had water damage and old dusty decor in the windows, not to mention the smell of old boxes and dust that Quinn liked to call “the mothy smell”. But, despite its run-down appearance, Moe’s was a hidden gem. Oddly enough, the mechanic that sold dresses on the side knew how to find upscale dresses for next to nothing. She was also oddly good at sewing. 

Quinn frequented the small shop often as she was always on the lookout for decent finds she could use in her strip shows. The little bell dinged as we entered through the sticky front door. “Moe!” Quinn hollered into the thin rows of dresses.

“Bout time!” The woman replied, emerging from a sea of red gowns near the back. “I’ve been fending people off those boxes all day!”

Quinn smiled. “There that good then?”

“Of course they are,” she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “This is my stuff we’re talkin’ bout.”

“Let’s see them then!”

The woman with a slightly hunched back and long braided grey hair waved us to the back. “I’ve got 'em hanging up to get the wrinkles out.”

Past the multiple racks of dresses, both slim fitting and so poofy I could hardly push past them, was the tiny back room with four small changing areas. A multitude of peach-colored gowns were hanging up a rack shoved against the wall. Some were silk, others were satin, and some were soft materials I didn’t recognize. All of them were beautiful, though. 

Quinn smiled widely and wrapped an arm around Moe. “You’re the best.”

“I know. Now hurry up and take your pick so I can get the others priced and out on the floor.”

Since it was Quinn’s day, she got to pick out each dress she wanted Prue and me to try on. It was a long-standing tradition we all enjoyed, but none more than Quinn. She handed a pile of dresses to Prue. “One of these is definitely for you.” She shoved one dress in my hands and winked. “And this one’s yours.”

Looking down at the gown, I could already tell it was going to be revealing, which I wouldn’t have minded much if it weren’t for that look. But she had something planned; I just knew it. We tried on the dresses, and Quinn and Prue gushed over my gown before Moe carted it off to be bagged up for me to take home. Prue’s gowns were flowy and elegant, but the one we both could tell she liked most was a long silky dress with two thin straps and a slightly low-hanging neckline. It accentuated her skin tone and drew attention to her shoulders and back, which we knew Prue liked about herself. Quinn’s was tight with a very chest-heavy corset top and hip-hugging satin material that drew attention to her ass, obviously a winner in her eyes, given the theme of her party.

We brought the dresses to my house and settled on my bed, eating deserts we’d picked up from Nana’s on the way back. Quinn lay in the middle, nearly swallowed by the thick pillows behind her head. Prue was already dozing off next to her, face down into the cushions with the blanket pulled up high over her head. I was lying on my side, facing Quinn, who’d occasionally feed me a bite of the decadent chocolate dessert she’d gotten. I was exhausted after a long day of cleaning and a night of dress shopping. Still, I felt relaxed and even excited about whatever Quinn had in store for us.

My phone beeped at me, another text message from Jake, who, if the picture little green frog leaning back with a too-large beer in its little hands meant anything, had just gotten home. Nothin better than a nice cold drink after a shit night dealing with rich assholes.

I smiled, the simple act drawing Quinn’s attention in an instant. She watched my face as I typed out some simple reply before I looked up at her and laughed. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve seen you smile like that over a boy.”

“It’s not over a boy.”

“Oh, so that’s not Jake, then?” She wiggled her eyebrows with a knowing smirk. “What is it with you and that pretty bartender that makes both of you so adverse to just admitting what’s obvious?”

I could have easily deflected, as I had been for months, but as I smiled down at the simple goodnight message from him on my phone, I sighed and decided to lean into the stupidity. Closing my eyes, I finally admitted, out loud to another living soul, “I want him.”

Quinn laughed and ran her hand through my hair. “No shit.”

“It’s different, though,” I said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything this much, and it’s… terrifying.”

“I know,” Quinn replied. “But it’s all gonna work out.”

Looking up into her bright eyes, I chuckled. “Is it now?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I, the Peach Queen, declare that you will have your bad boy bartender.”

*

I’d spent hours getting ready for yet another reservation at my workplace, but unlike the last time, I was actually nervous this time. The dress Quinn had picked for me was a lot. I wouldn’t be able to blend into the other outfits of black. I was sure to have eyes on me tonight. More than likely, those of my colleagues as well as the rich assholes dining tonight. I focused on my makeup, following the instructions Quinn gave me at breakfast before she left with Prue to get ready. I lined my eyes and smeared the soft shimmery pick over the lid, adding a few dots to my blush to achieve the glow Quinn insisted we needed. After fussing with my hair for an hour and a half, I settled on a simple half updo pinned into place with a peach clip Quinn gave me.

After I got into my dress and smoothed down a few wrinkles, I admired myself in the mirror as I fixed the simple necklaces I’d picked out the other night. It was truly a beautiful gown; the color was soft, the perfect peach tone, and while my whole chest and shoulders hung out, tits threatening to spill from the bodice of the corset top, it was weirdly perfect. Stupidly I found myself excited to see everyone’s reactions to it… mainly to see his reaction. The whole cab ride, I found myself fixing my hair and checking my makeup and everything in between with this giddy sense of anticipation building in my gut.

It was another busy night as I walked through the doors with a smile. Roslyn’s mouth dropped as she greeted me. “Heelllooo! I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone pull off this much tit in such a classy way.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” I answered, turning my head to greet Howard as he swiftly approached.

“Lena,” he said, eyes taking in my outfit momentarily before he smiled. “You look wonderful. I can show you to your table before the rest of your party arrives.”

My eyes flashed to the bar that was absent a dark-haired man. “That sounds lovely; thank you, Howard.”

He offered me his arm, and once I took it, he gracefully led me through the dining room. Every single one of my friends caught a look at me and nearly dropped their server masks. Sasha’s mouth hung wide open for a minute while Ari froze completely, eyes drinking in the sight of my chest. Howard gestured up the stairs, hand squeezing my arm as he whispered, “Careful not to fall.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No one’s gonna let that go, are they?”

“It’ll die down soon,” he assured me with a chuckle. “Just not tonight.”

He showed me the table beside the railing, set with custom peach themed in color and in the literal sense. Candles were lit, illuminating the small basket of peaches and the pink flowers in the center of the table. It was far enough away from other tables that I knew the girls and I would be safe to talk freely about the company we were in. All while also having a perfect view of the bar, which wasn’t important at all. “It’s perfect, Howard. Thank you.”

One of his hands settled on my back as he smiled. “Only the best for our esteemed guests. You know that.”

“Still, thank you for letting me inconvenience you not just once but twice.”

“You’re welcome to inconvenience me whenever you’d like, Lena,” he replied.

I smiled again, ignoring the odd feeling that settled inside me. “I’m going to go wait for the rest of my party. Have a good service, Howard.”

From the top of the stairs, I could hear the hushed whispers of my coworkers around the bar, all talking about me. Ari groaned. “God, she’s so fucking hot.”

“What are we talking about?” Jake asked as he slid back behind the bar with a new bottle of wine.

“Lena,” Sahsa replied. I smirked, leaning against the wall for a minute to listen to their conversation before rudely interrupting.

“Caught a glimpse. She looks good.”

“Good?” Heather scoffed. “She looks fuckable in like the classiest way I’ve ever seen.”

Ari giggled. “When she looked at me, I thought I was gonna pass out.”

“Yes, it’s too bad our tiger bats for the other team.”

“And that she has a vagina.”

Jake’s voice cut above the rest, “Wow, you guys are really laying it on thick about Lena tonight.”

Perfect opportunity for a grand entrance.

*

“What about Lena?” Her voice carried down from the top of the stairs. Jake smirked at their coworkers, ready to spill all the filthy ways they’d expressed their feelings about her outfit tonight before he turned his head to look up at her. Even with their comments in mind, he still wasn’t ready to admit that they were right and bit his tongue to keep from saying the same things they had. Finally, standing at the top of the stairs beside the bar Lena descended, Jake’s mouth did with her.

It wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d grown wings right in front of him or if she was truly an angel in disguise. She always looked beautiful and sexy and everything in between, but here, now, in that dress… Jake couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to, not ever. 

The peach-colored dress hugged her body in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her shoulders were bare; the dress was held onto her by two drooping pieces of fabric that caressed her upper arms as she moved to take hold of the railing and the sheer will of god. The corset top was simple, though it wasn’t the top he was looking at, but rather the deep plunge of the neckline that lifted her breasts ever so slightly. It flowed behind her as her long legs moved down the steps, the fabric bunched at her waist, lifting it up to further accentuate the near hip-high slit.

Lena smiled at him as she stood in front of the bar and leaned on it, causing her half-down red hair to spill over her shoulder. She tilted her head. “What about me?”

Sasha came to his rescue with a grin that was far too smug. “We were just talking about how badly we wanted to fuck you tonight, Tiger Bitch.”

“Oh,” Lena laughed, the sound only tormenting him more. “Thank you… I think?”

Ari looked at her breasts and shook her head. “No, thank you.”

Nicky shooed the group away from the bar. Jake couldn’t bring himself to move… couldn’t look away from her for even one second. Lena’s eyes trailed down, fixating on his chest. He saw her lips move, but he didn’t hear her the first time. Blinking, he shook his head. “What?”

“Your tie’s loose,” she repeated.

“Oh,” he lifted his hands to try and move the stupid thing, but his mind was a blur. All he could think of was her in that dress, was that damn smell of cherries. God, pull it together. It’s just a dress. Just a damn smell. He scolded himself.

Her hands came up to stop him before he could ruin his tie anymore. He hadn’t even noticed her walk around the bar. She smiled up at him, sweet and absolutely too much right now. “Here, let me.”

“You’re a guest tonight,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“I’ll be quick then,” she replied with a wink. God… fuck!

She was right the other night. She could have him whenever she wanted; however she wanted. Jake swallowed thickly as her bright eyes flashed up to his. He'd take her here in front of all these guests… all their coworkers, if it's what she wanted. His whole body hummed at the very thought of what she’d look like, that dress hiked up to her hips, bent over the bar, or even better, sitting on top of it so he could see her face. All he wanted was to hear her say the words. He wanted her to want him just as badly as he wanted her.

*

After I fixed Jake’s tie, I ducked out from behind the bar before Howard could scold me. Quinn and Prue arrived shortly after, looking drop dead gorgeous in the dresses they’d picked. Prue’s hair was half down with the top portion braided into a bow, and Quinn’s was loosely braided down her back. They both slid beside me at the bar with big grins. Quinn smiled at Jake. “Having a good night, Jake?”

“Oh, just the best,” he answered.

“Well, let’s go. I’m starving.” She took hold of my arm and tugged me away from the bar and the lingering eyes of the bartender.

We sat down, receiving peach-themed drinks as compliments from the bar, or rather the entire staff that gathered around to bicker about who got to serve our table. Scott took it upon himself to make us an entirely new peach-themed menu that I was ecstatic to try. His talent, with any and every ingredient, no matter how random, never ceased to amaze me. The girls and I gossiped about the rich people around us, playing games centered around making up conversations between tables.

Even with my back to the bar, I could feel Jake’s eyes on me, lingering for a long minute before having to look away to make a drink or schmooze a customer before they were right back on me. It was thrilling, though I’d never admit it. Shifting in my seat, I felt the fabric of my dress dip lower, exposing more of my leg as I took a drink of the sweet peach cocktail and finished my food. “I’m kind of glad you decided to come here. This was amazing.”

Prue nodded, practically moaning with delight as she carefully wiped her mouth. “This was the best meal I’ve ever had.” Her eyes followed Will as he moved across the floor, sparing a wide-eyed, blushing look up at her. “And the staff is just adorable.”

Quinn nudged me. “Go sit at the bar.”

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

“Because I’m the Peach Queen, and I say so.”

Prue giggled. “You did finish your drink. Good thing you know a cute bartender that’d make you another one.”

I shook my head and settled further into my seat. “I’m not going to go harping Jake for drinks while he’s in the middle of service.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Fine, you forced my hand. I, Peach Queen, banish thee Cherry one to the bar!”

“Oh yeah?” I taunted. “What if I don’t go?’

“Then I’ll just have to make a fuss and embarrass you.”

She would do it too. She had plenty of times before. And so, I relented, standing up and offering her a mock bow. “As thy queen commands.”

I walked down the stairs carefully, not wanting to risk falling again, and made my way to an empty seat at the bar with a smile. “What are you doing down here?” Nicky asked.

“I’ve apparently been banished,” I answered, drawing Jake’s attention in a second.

“Banished?” he asked, switching places with Nicky. “That doesn’t sound too fun.

I shrugged. “It could be worse.”

He tilted his head. “Worse than banishment?”

“Quinn can be creative.”

“Well, what can I get you?” He leaned against the bar with a glass out, ready for my answer.

“Should I see how many free drinks I can get out of this dress?” I asked with a grin.

Jake’s eyes trailed away from my face, and his eyebrow quirked. “Not if you wanna be sober enough to enjoy the rest of the night.”

Leaning forward on the bar ever so slightly, I tilted my head to the side, only further enticing him. “Oh? You think I’d be that popular?”

“You already are that popular,” he answered, looking around at all the eyes focusing on me both around the bar and deeper into the maze of tables and wealthy people. “Have been since you walked in.”

“Well,” I said, setting my head in my hands. “You’ve got my full attention, grumpy Jake.”

“Do I?” He smirked, tilting his head.

“Yep. So, impress me, master bartender,” I teased.

Jake lived for the challenge as he pursed his lips slightly and leaned toward me. “Just clap when you’re impressed, princess.”

I rolled my eyes but kept them fixed on him as he gathered ingredients and mixed drinks for the guests lining the counter. Sitting on this end of the bar felt surreal, watching him mix drinks with that roguish smile and the flamboyant technique. For a minute, it almost felt like it was my first week again when Jake was fixed on trying to impress me enough to get me naked, only now he didn’t need to mix drinks, force contact, or even flirt with me. The truth, as much as I’d tried to avoid it, was Jake didn’t need to impress me, not when it only took one look… one stupid look to make me melt beneath his gaze. A week ago, I’d teased him about not having to be jealous… about how I could have him whenever I wanted, but only now did I realize that Jake held a similar power. 

He could have me whenever he wanted.

As the guests slowly began to leave, the girls joined me at the bar, Prue taking up Will’s attention even when he had to go do manager things, and Quinn distracting Ari with nothing but her eyes. Isaac’s face pressed against the glass of the kitchen window as he held up Jake’s jacket and waved me inside. I smiled at my plan coming to life, quietly excusing myself to slide into the kitchen. Isaac held it out to me. “Dom just dropped it off. Remind me again why you’re smuggling jackets around?”

“It’s Jake’s,” I answered, heaving toward the stairs. “He keeps giving it to me, so I have to keep sneaking it back into his locker.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Or you could just fuck him and keep it.”

“Is the rest of it in my bag?” He nodded. “Thanks for your help,” I whispered down to him as I hurried up the stairs and sneakily made my way to Jake’s locker. I struggled for a minute running through the list of combinations he’d started rotating to try and deter me from sneaking his jacket into his locker.

"So," Jake's voice came from the doorway, so suddenly I jumped, dropping his leather jacket onto the floor.

"Shit!" I yelped, turning to glare at him. "Don't sneak up on me!"

He chuckled, eyes dragging down my body, fixing on my bare shoulders, the deep plunging neckline of the dress, and then finally on my leg, the one exposed by the high slit of the gown. When he finally took notice of his jacket on the floor, his head tilted. "Are you really taking time out of your dinner to sneak my jacket into my locker?"

I scoffed, kicking the jacket behind me with my heel. "No! That'd be crazy."

He laughed, nodding to the still, obvious fabric. "Well, go on, don't let me stop you."

Fucking… I bit my lip and bent over to retrieve it, fully aware of how he drank in the sight of my boobs threatening to spill out of the corseted top. I turned back to his locker and stuffed it inside, slamming the door shut with a grin. "Did you need something? A jacket, perhaps?"

"No, I'm good. Very toasty." He replied, taking a step forward, the wicked smug look in his eyes never fading. "So, the hip, right?"

"What?"

"Your mermaid tattoo," he clarified, taking far too much pleasure in how my face fell with the realization. "It's on your hip."

My hand slapped over the too-high slit that did indeed showcase the tail of my tattoo. "God damn dress!"

Jake leaned back against the locker nodding to my leg. "Show me."

"No!"

"You said you would if I guessed where it was," he argued.

I shook my head, laughing nervously. "I actually didn't. All I said was you didn't already know where it was."

Jake moved even closer. "Technicality. Show it to me."

"No!"

"Oh, come on, princess."

My face burned the closer he got until I finally cracked under the weight of those pretty blue eyes. "Fine, you get five seconds!"

I moved my hand and carefully lifted the slit of my gown to show the intricate mermaid that curved up my hip, tail curling a little over my thigh. Then, in my head, I began to count. One. Two. Th- Warm fingers grazed along the curve of my hip, and every thought stuttered to a halt. Jake was on his knees, eyes taking in the sight of my tattoo with an appreciative gleam. I could feel his breath fan along my thigh as his fingers moved to skim over the inked skin.

"Well, it does certainly look better than mine," he said, looking up at me through his thick eyelashes. I wonder what he’d look like looking up at me from between my- Fuck. 

I cleared my throat and let my dress drop back down. "Yeah, I told you Prue's the best."

"Why a mermaid?" He asked, slowly rising to his feet.

"It's gonna sound stupid," I laughed nervously, scratching my head. "When my mom would… leave me to swim back to shore I... I used to pretend I was a mermaid." There was a soft look in Jake’s eyes, one that made my heart ache. "It made it feel less real... If that makes any sense."

"It makes sense," he assured me, his voice shockingly tender. "And it's not stupid."

“Thanks.” I spared him a quick glance before clearing my throat and asking, “So, is service officially over?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that last table finally decided to leave.”

I laughed. “The very obvious escort date?”

“No, they left just a little bit before the cut-off. The last table was a group of old people that had been complaining all night about every single detail of their service.”

“Damn,” I replied. “Glad I wasn’t working tonight, then.”

He held a quarter up in his hand. “Yeah, that’s the tip I got for the seven drinks I remade.”

I laughed. “It’s certainly a tough time being a pretty bartender.”

“So, what’s next for your little party?” He asked, moving to his locker to change.

I turned my back to him, offering him some privacy, though I knew he didn’t care if I looked. “That’s up to Quinn. But, from my understanding, we’re all going for a limo ride to Coney Island.”

“Sounds fun,” he replied. “You goin' in that, or were you planning on changing into something a bit more practical?”

“I had Dom drop us off some clothes,” I answered, looking over my shoulder to admire his bare back. “So, guess you get to keep your shirt this time.”

He smirked at me. “How relieving.”

After he was decent and putting on his shoes, I slipped into the bathroom with my bag and changed into a simple tank top and shorts with comfortable shoes. I left Quinn’s clothes in the bag and grabbed Prue to take downstairs to her, knowing full well that Quinn and Ari would likely try to fuck in the break room. We headed back downstairs together, Jake letting Nicky leave early. Slowly, everyone changed into regular clothes and gathered around the bar for drinks.

“Now that all of you don’t look so freaky, do you want to come with us to Coney Island?” Quinn asked, wiggling her brows. “The limo rides on me.”

The uproar of the group agreeing to a night of fun was louder than even I expected. Nodding toward the back, I addressed Quinn. “The bag with your extra clothes is upstairs in the locker room.”

“I’ll show you the way,” Ari said with a wink as she dragged Quinn toward the kitchen. 

Will shook his head. “They’re definitely going to fuck in the break room, so,” turning to Prue, he signed. “I can show you to the manager's office so you can change if you want.”

She blushed and bit her lip, grabbing the clothes I’d brought down to her. “Maybe we can do a little more than change?”

I made a face and immediately turned my eyes elsewhere, which just so happened to be where Jake stood across the bar. “I’m guessing it’s gonna be a minute before we head out?”

“Oh yeah. No one go upstairs or in the office for a while,” I warned.

Twenty minutes later, both couples returned, readjusting their clothes and slightly more sweaty than they’d started the night out. We all clamored to Quinn’s limo, where I stayed close to Quinn and Jake to keep myself from giving into the nauseous and painful feelings that made my chest feel tight, and my body want to shake. Though I didn’t participate much in the conversations going around through the group, each one was a welcome distraction, as was Jake’s hand resting next to mine on the small space of seat between us.

*

The thirty-minute car ride was certainly not the worst I’d ever had to live through, but as the limo stopped and we all filed out of the car, I’d never been more relieved to breathe in the slightly salty air. All the anxiety and old memories faded away in the bright lights of Coney Island. We paid for our tickets, and all rushed inside to indulge in the obviously rigged booth games and stalls of delicious food. Will and Prue branched off toward a ball game with stuffed animal prizes, and to my surprise, Jake followed them. 

I stayed with Sasha and Heather, laughing at the Russian’s poor attempts to participate in a shooting game. He cursed the stall attendant out in Russian before we pulled him away. Next thing we all knew, thirty minutes had blown by, and everyone was slowly reconvening at a small area of picnic tables. Sasha, Ari, and I bent over our photobooth picture, laughing at each other's dumb faces when Will and Prue found us, Will’s arms full of stuffed animals. “Look what we won!”

“Did you leave any prizes for the other kids, Prue?” I signed, dodging her attempt to slap my arm.

“Of course,” She replied.

Looking around, I asked, “Where’d Jake go?”

Sahsa smirked. “Knowing our Jakey, he probably found some dirty carnival hooker to fuck.”

I rolled my eyes as the bartender's familiar figure followed just after Prue and Will with a giant stuffed tiger in his arms. “I’m right here.”

“Holy shit,” Quinn laughed. “Where the hell did you find that?”

“One of those cheap-ass games,” he replied, setting it down on the table I sat on top of. “Figured it was only right to win it for our resident tiger.”

“How many tries did it take you to win this?” I asked, admiring the cute face of the animal. “Do we need to chip in on your rent?”

He shook his head and grabbed a cigarette from Sasha, moving to sit down at the table across from me. “It wasn’t that hard.”

When the group had settled down a bit, Heather asked, “Now what?”

Quinn’s smile quickly turned sinister. “We could always play a little truth or dare.”

“God, no!” I pleaded.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” she insisted.

Sasha blew a plum of smoke toward me. “Come on, Tiger Bitch, have fun with us!”

“Fine,” I huffed. “But don’t come crying to me when she’s daring you to strip for her.”

The first round was tame, most people opting to pick truth over dare, but after the third or fourth round, things quickly descended into Quinn’s madness. She smirked at Jake. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he answered.

"I dare you to take this marker and give Lena a tattoo on her hip." 

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head at her. "Seriously?"

Quinn giggled and grinned while sipping her drink. "What? It’s not like I told him to write whore across your forehead."

“That was one time, and we were sixteen!”

Jake pulled the marker from her fingers and motioned me forward. I lifted my shirt getting ready to pull the waistband of my pants down just enough for the tattoo. Jake tutted. "Other one."

"There's already a tattoo there," I replied.

"Just give me the other one," he insisted with a smile as he took off the lid of the marker with his teeth.

I complied, pulling my waistband down enough to reveal the top half of the mermaid. Jake wasted no time taking hold of my hip in his warm hand and pulling me closer. Quinn winked at me, and I had to fight the urge to throw something at her. The marker tickled against my skin as Jake focused. I shifted slightly, causing him to squeeze my hip. "Hold still."

"Hurry up," I insisted, forcing my voice to stay steady.

He smirked up at me, blue eyes shimmering with smug mischief. "Want it to look good or not?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "It's just marker, dumbass. It'll come off in like two days."

"Then I better make it good enough for you to savor, right?"

When he finished, I looked down at the heart drawn in the center of the mermaid's chest with the little J in the center. The sight made every inch of my body tingle as I looked up at him and smiled. "Really?"

He shrugged. "It's a classic."

“Your turn Jake,” Heather said with a smile.

“Sasha,” he called out. “Truth or-”

“Dare. Give me your best shot, Jakey!”

Jake smiled. “I dare you to kiss Isaac.”

Isaac’s cheeks flushed quickly as Sasha wasted no time turning and grabbing his face to press a kiss to his lips. He pulled away, wiping his mouth with pride and settling back into his seat beside Isaac with an arm around the blushing man's shoulders. “Easy! Tiger Bitch, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I replied with a sigh.

He giggled. “I dare you to show us your dirtiest photo!”

“That’s not so bad,” I replied, pulling my phone out to find the old picture of me lying in bed in a lacey bra with a cherry between my lips. “I sent this to a guy I hooked up with years ago.”

Sahsa took the phone and purred in delight, passing it around the group. Quinn nodded. “That was a good picture.”

“The guy you sent it to sure liked it.”

Once it got back to Jake, he looked at it with an approving nod before handing me my phone. “Not bad, princess.”

“Okay, Ari. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she answered with a grin.

I hummed for a moment before asking. “Who here would you most like to sleep with?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You, of course, beautiful.”

Quinn scoffed. “Excuse me!”

“I’ve already slept with you,” Ari replied, kissing Quinn’s lips. “And I’m gonna do it again later.”

“Fair point.”

The round continued for a while, eventually landing on Prue and then on me. “Have you ever fantasized about a coworker?”

Oh, you fucking bitch, I thought to myself. “Yes, I have.”

“Who?” Quinn egged on. 

“Sasha, of course,” I deflected, pinching the Russian’s cheek. “Quinn, truth or dare.”

She bat her eyelashes. “Truth.”

“Describe your first kiss,” I said with a grin.

“You’re a cunt,” she replied before diving into the very awkward story of her first kiss. "Truth or dare," Quinn asked with a newfound gleam in her eyes I'd seen one too many times before. She was up to something big now. And if the wink she sent me meant anything, it was something I would have to kick her ass for.

Jake shrugged, blowing a plume of smoke out the side of his mouth. "Dare."

Leaning forward, my friend smiled even wider, wicked and deeply pleased with herself as she declared, "I dare you to kiss Lena."

My heart stopped beating for a moment, only kickstarted when the ocean blue of Jake's eyes slid to mine. "That's-"

"It's-" we stammered at the same time.

Sasha laughed. "I think the stripper wins."

"No," Jake told the Russian, eyes never leaving mine. "I'll do it. That is if it's alright with you, Red."

I swallowed and shrugged. "It's just a game. I don't mind."

He handed the cigarette to Scott and slowly approached me, moving to stand at the table's edge. His hands curled around my hips, pulling me closer until I was flush against his chest. A sharp gasp echoed between us as my dumb body arched into him. Rough fingers lifted my chin, forcing me to look deeper into his eyes.

"Don't get too excited, princess," he whispered. Oh fuck. On instinct, my legs moved, trying to press my thighs together and alleviate some of the burning pressure that shot right down to my core. Unfortunately, Jake's waist made that problematic.

My legs squeezed his hips, bringing that smug smile to his face as he stared me down. His fingers squeezed my chin as he leaned in close. Our lips nearly brushed one another as the smokey tint of his breath fanned across my face. At the last second, his grip on my chin tugged, and my head turned ever so slightly to the side as he kissed my cheek.

Sasha booed loudly as air finally filled my lungs again. Jake pulled away, his eyes looking me up and down for a moment, the dark, blown pupils drinking in the sight of me, blushing cheeks and still slightly arched back. God, this is just getting pathetic. He slid out from between my legs and smirked at Quinn. "You never specified where I had to kiss her."

"Cheeky boy." She shook her head.

Jake looked off toward the food stalls. “As much fun as this game is, I think we should indulge in some food before they close.”

Everyone but Ari and I jumped up to grab food. Isaac promised to bring me back food if I saved his seat, while Quinn offered to get Ari’s food for her with a loving look and a gentle kiss on her cheek. Once she turned away, I saw Ari’s face drop slightly. “Hey,” I called over to her. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Ari,” I pressed gently, patting the table beside me.

With a sigh, she moved, sitting beside me and looking up at Quinn. “How long before she gets sick of me, realistically?”

My brows furrowed as I turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“Quinn is… She’s amazing. Beautiful and talented and smart and funny. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” She shook her head. “And I don’t have a lot more to offer her.”

“You don’t have to offer anyone anything to be important, Ari,” I said with a smile. “Quinn doesn’t give two shits what you can offer her. She likes you because you’re you.”

Ari shook her head, wiping the tears away from her eyes long before they could fall. “No one likes me because I’m me. Not even my own parents.”

“Fuck your parents.” She laughed, looking at me with sad eyes. “Sometimes our parents are the ones with the problem. My mom’s a cold, stuck-up, perfectionist bitch that didn’t give two shits about me no matter what I did. Back then, the best thing I ever did was let go of what she made me feel I lacked.”

“How do you do that, though?” Ari asked softly. “How do you let go of the years of pain and neglect and…”

I shrugged. “With a lot of reassurance from good friends. And, lucky for you, there’s an entire mob out there willing to reassure you every second of the day.”

Ari laid her head on my shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, Tiger Bitch.”

“You’re welcome.”

She and I sat there for a while, waiting until the rest of the group got back with their cotton candy. Quinn instantly took notice of Ari’s downtrodden mood and came to lift her spirits with a kiss and a bite of the sticky sweet sugar. Jake sat down next to me, holding a giant ball of cotton candy. He held it out to me. “Want some?”

I looked at the sheer size of his treat and laughed. “I guess. Did you pay extra for them to make it as big as Sasha’s head?”

“I heard that!” Sasha shouted.

“No,” Jake replied, taking a finger full of the fluffy candy. “They just really liked me.”

“Ah, so it was a group of women then?” I teased.

With a scoff, he said, “I’m attractive to every gender.”

We laughed together, sharing the shitty spun sugar until Prue pulled me from the table and quickly signed. “The girls are riding the Merry-Go-Round. Come on!”

“Okay, stop pulling!” I turned to look back at Jake. “Don’t let Sasha steal the tiger!”

He shook his head but pulled the giant stuffed thing closer to him anyway as he watched me get dragged off toward the enormous horses. Ari and Heather chose the ugliest horses they could find, while Quinn, Prue, and I gravitated to ones a few rows down. Prue’s was a unicorn with little rainbow flowers in its hair. Quinn’s was hot pink with giant eyelashes. And mine was a simple black horse with a little blue saddle. Prue sat beside me while Quinn’s was slightly in the front, forcing her to sit backward on it to look back at us. 

I narrowed my eyes and looked between the two of them, saying and signing, “Why do I feel like this is an intervention?”

“Cause it is,” Quinn replied. 

“It’s about Jake,” Prue continued giving me that look.

I sighed, slumping into the pole. “Guys, how many times do we have to do this?”

“You want him,” Quinn said, leaning over to grab my pole to steady herself as the ride began to move. “You told me you did. You know you do. So stop fucking around and go get him!”

“It’s not that simple,” I argued.

“Yes, it is,” Prue interjected. “You are always telling us to go after what we want in life, even if it’s hard or gets messy or doesn’t work out how we want it to. This is no different.”

Quinn grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “If you don’t give whatever this is with you and him a shot, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life. You know that.”

With a low groan, I shook my head and sighed. “I hate when you two use my own logic against me.”

They both shrugged, smug and self-assured, as we got off the ride and rejoined the bulk of the group. Sasha practically collapsed into Heather with a giggle. “Well, I think this amazing night of filth and fun is coming to an end.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Anything else anyone wanted to do before we head out?” Quinn asked, slightly elbowing me.

I looked up at the giant Ferris Wheel and shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve always wanted to go on the Ferris Wheel.”

“Never been on one before?” Jake asked, emerging from the group next to Will and Quinn, still holding the big stuffed tiger he’d given me that I’d shoved into his arms when I’d rushed to join the girls on the Merry-Go-Round. 

“Nope,” I answered. “No one ever wanted to come with me.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Those things are death traps! I refuse to be a statistic!”

Tossing the tiger to Will, Jake headed toward the giant wheel. He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “You comin' or what?”

I ignored Quinn’s urging whispers and fell into step beside Jake, the two of us quietly getting in line and waiting our turn. It wasn’t a long wait, being so late into the night, and before I could change my mind, we were being strapped into the slightly too small seat and told a rush of basic rules before the jaunty music began to play, and the wheel started to turn. The lights and laughter echoed up to us as the wheel screeched to a halt with our cart near the top. This is so cliche, I told myself, quietly wondering if Quinn and Pure would go this far to get me to act. They would. I knew they would. What was irritating, though, was how well it worked.

From up here, everything and everyone seemed so small. The noise was distant enough that I could only focus on Jake sitting beside me, thigh pressed into mine. His blue eyes lit up so beautifully as he stared out at the sea of activity below. I cleared my throat before saying, "This turned out to be pretty fun, all things considered."

He nodded, eyes still taking in the sights below us. "Yeah, I think the most questionable part of the night was truth or dare." Then, chuckling, he shook his head. "I knew Sasha was deprived before, but wow, I severely underestimated him."

"Yeah," I agreed, laughing with him. I took a deep breath and just decided to commit. Fuck it. "You know, for a minute, it seemed like you were actually gonna kiss me."

Jake turned, and those gorgeous eyes met mine. Tilting his head, he shrugged a shoulder, trying to seem unphased. "For a minute, it seemed like you wanted me to."

"I did." Okay… There it is, I guess… My heart hammered in my chest as the casual look on his face shifted. My mind immediately started reeling, searching for a way to backpedal the conversation and take it back. Jake, however, seemed to have another course of action in mind.

He leaned forward, hand gliding against my jaw as he lifted my head ever so slightly and pressed his lips to mine. A surprised noise squeaked out of my throat, one I would have been embarrassed about had I been able to focus on anything but his damn lips. They were softer than they looked if that was possible, and firm against mine. 

Both of us were tense for a moment, anxious at the sudden fulfillment of both our fantasies in a matter of seconds. After the initial shock wore off, we both eased into one another, our lips moving in harmony as we accepted that this was reality. The kiss was gentle and urgent while still holding back. Jake pulled away, allowing me a second to breathe.

His eyes were wide, pupils nearly drowning the blue as his chest heaved with quiet breaths. All I could do was look at him with equally wide eyes and equal breathlessness. All I could do was take hold of the collar of his shirt and, subsequently, the silver chain around his neck and pull him back into another, far needier kiss.

It was sloppy and messy in a way that only made us want more. He tasted like smoke, and the cotton candy he had earlier as his fingers on my jaw coaxed my mouth open so he could mingle the odd combination against my tongue with his own. One hand buried itself into my hair as he groaned into my mouth while the other ran down my back, his dull nails dragging against my skin. My hand wrapped around the silver chain and pulled, keeping him from moving away from me, and the other pressed into his thigh, my nails digging into his jeans like my life depended on it.

A groan echoed through the metal as the Ferris Wheel spurred to life again, shifting suddenly and breaking us out of the heated trance our lips had entangled us in. Our cart started moving, lowering us back to the ground. We stared at each other for a second before slowly detaching our hands from one another and straightening our clothes and hair. 

The silence was almost as deafening as my heart pounding in my ears. Finally, Jake and I got off the ride quietly, walking side by side back to the group we’d left nearby. Will handed me the stuffed tiger Jake had given me, and my heart burned. Prue smiled at me from the crook of Will’s arm. “How was the Ferris Wheel?”

“Good,” I said, tucking my now loosened hair behind my ear. “It was good.”

The loudest among the group rushed into conversations, but all I could hear was the Ferris Wheel whirling to life again behind us. Looking over my shoulder at Jake, who’d put not a large distance but a noticeable one in between us, I realized just how fucked I was - we both were. That one kiss wasn’t enough, not even close. My heart throbbed, and my body tingled with a hum of pure desire. A want, no, need for more. Jake’s blue eyes were filled with the same thing as mine. That kiss wasn’t going to cut it. Shit.

*

Her eyes mirrored his. Swimming in a sea of black, blown-out pupils that made him want to close the distance he’d put between them the longer he looked. The want, no, the need that had been burning in his chest from the day he met her was now raging so hot and desperate that he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore it any longer. That kiss wasn’t enough. Not for either of them. Fuck.

[rnoonpie]

For almost a month, I've been working retail for the first time as an electronics department sales assistant in a popular bulk warehouse chain. I was so afraid I was going to hate it, that customers were going to make me lose my faith in humanity, that children were gonna be unbearable.

But I don't. They didn't, they aren't.

I love meeting people and talking to people and I love knowing about the products I help sell. I love helping a customer figure out what's best for their needs, not just directing them to the biggest and flashiest, most expensive phones or laptops.

But most surprising to me, I think, is a reminder that I do really get along with children and love talking to them, even little babies. They're so funny and just make me smile. I love little babies in carriers with stout little fat frog legs dangling in the air, with so much fat on their faces they look like a bulldog when they close their eyes. I love the ones who don't have enough hair to style but they've got one little tuft sticking straight up in a bow anyway. I love waving to the ones who stare very intently while they're figuring out how their eyes work.

But most of all, I think I really love getting to be someone I never had for me in public spaces as a child, and that's treating them like a customer just as much as their parents, asking them what they're looking for, if they have any questions.

The transformation is so complete every time. I see how braced they are for an adult approaching them while they're using the display iPads, expecting to be scolded or told to leave it alone. But when I ask with a smile how they're doing and if they're looking for anything in particular, if they have any questions, they transform into such excited and curious things.

"Um! Um, I was wondering, um, what the difference is between the iPad Pro and the others!" this little girl said nervously, her voice high and thin.

So I told her, in simpler terms, but with the same cadence I would have used with her mother.

"So the Pro line tends to have a better processor, which means it's going to be able to handle a lot more apps at the same time. They're really good for games and I know a lot of artists who like to use this app here — " I tapped the demo Procreate icon and opened it up " — to make art! The Pro also has a very clear and bright screen with a pretty huge amount of colours it can display, which is why a lot of artists like it so much. So the Pro does all these things more efficiently than the other iPads do."

Her eyes were enormous. "That's so cool," she whispered in breathless awe. "That's so cool."

"Isn't it?" I agreed. "This stuff amazes me every day."

Her parents came and collected her not long after that and apologised for the trouble.

"Not at all," I said in deep surprise.

Like her parents were afraid their child's mere presence was annoying or bothersome to employees? Like… nah, man. Kids want to know what the electronics can do, too. They're just people learning how to people.

Adults are the ones who annoy me on a daily basis more than children. You know who love to connect to our demo Bluetooth speakers to blast rude music as loudly as they can? Grown ass men, every single time, without fail.

Children are generally very reserved and polite when they need my help with something, saying "excuse me".

It was another grown ass man who saw me counting inventory, decided it would be hilarious to go "forty-nine, twenty-two, eighty-six…" as he passed by.

The stare that I gave him must have been completely dead-eyed because he immediately flushed and mumbled an apology before hurrying away.

But, as a disclaimer, that's not to say that all the adult men who come into the store are annoying or rude. In fact, the vast majority of them are lively and polite and friendly! Even the ones that fuck around with the speakers haven't given me direct trouble (I deal with the speaker issue by just muting it via the laptop it's actually connected to) and no one has ever been overtly aggressive or abusive to me.

I know it's only been a month. I know that getting a Karen is going to be inevitable — people will always be people, after all — but I know that, broadly, people are good and I love them. I love watching them and talking to them, of all ages, gender, background.

People are fundamentally good.

[rosesandalfazemas]

The week finished but never the love.... and this fic )? @engportevents

2. A little change of plans

Spanish version

“Me cago en la puta leche, Gabriel! Windsor?! You two always do it in Buckingham!” the man scratched his head, nervous. “I cleared all my king’s agenda for nothing!”

“Toninho…”

“All because Albion fucking decides to have a romantic getaway on the other side! What about our children's protocol and all that shi-?”

“Toño!”

Spain stoped for a second, looking back. Flushed, he smiled nervously when he faced with Belgium’s usual delicate features in a not-so-delicate frown.

“It’s your brother’s anniversary, he’ll know best what to do with his husband. If they’ve decided to change their plans, then so be it.” The woman crosses her arms, “There’s a month left, it's not that bad.”

“Oi, Anita, why do you defend them? They’re being irresponsible.”

“Because when you decide to cancel on plans right off the bat, Portugal goes along with your outbursts.” She pointed out, making his face turn redder. “But that’s not inconvenient when it comes to you, right, my dear?”

“I… argh, me cago en el diablo-”

“And stop being so rude! For God’s sake, that jealousy-“

“Oi, está lá? I can hear everything…”

Spain’s mouth twisted in displeasure, and he put the call on speaker as soon as his partner approaches him; he took her by the waist, kissing her cheek in compensation for the scolding.

“Thank you for letting us know in advance, Gabriel,” she commented, smiling. “Do you guys want something in particular? I think I ran out of marriage gift ideas some centuries ago.”

“Hahaha, we’re fine, cunhada. When we schedule a dinner for close friends and relatives, we’ll let you know. You know your company is enough for us.” 

“Aww!” The blonde coosed, whilst Antonio rolls his eyes to the side. Noticing this, Ana turns to him, pinching his waist.

“Hey! Stop punishing me!”

“… Are you sure?” She raised her eyebrows, holding him closer to her.

Spain blinked at her for a long second, and then looks at his cellphone. 

“Ten un buen viaje me llamais luego tengo cosas que atender. Adiós.” 

“Uh… what?” the brunette looked at the cellphone when he noticed the abrupt tone of the line going dead.

“So? How long did he complain for?” Arthur asks behind Gabriel, while reading his tablet and drinking tea.

“I think… Belgium has it under control.” he concluded amused.

“Ana Brel? I must say, women are always more efficient.” His finger continued to scroll across his tablet, reading each paragraph with great speed. “Out of all of us, they’re thrust into Europe, so I'm not surprised.” He siped more of his tea. “While she has reasons not to interact with me much, she has the right manners like the queen that she is, so I respect her.”

“Your weakness for women is endearing to me.” His partner admited, sitting across from the other. His legs are crossed as he drinks his own tea.

“You can’t blame me, I adore them.” He says smiling. “Anyway, do you want to make sure there’s anyone else to call?”

“Sim, but you should be the one to tell your brothers about the change of plans. Especially since they are more involved in the protocol.”

“Bah! It’s only two days we’ll be off track, they won’t miss me too much. Especially the redheads, whatever we do is an excuse to drink.” Arthur whispered sardonically.

“The good and bad drink you guys have is familiar, meu caro,” he narrows down, avoiding England’s side eye, “but that’s not the point.”

“And what is, darling?” the Englishman raised an eyebrow

“Scotland is in Lyon, and he planned to stay there with France until our Anniversary. You do remember, right? Lunch, last week?”

“…dammit.”

***

“Well, well! look who his Majesty decided to call…”

Francis Bonnefoy sounded delighted, tossing his golden hair to one side of his shoulder, tangling his fingers in the cord of his bedroom's landline phone, between amusement and mockery.

>>“To what do I owe this great honor?”

“Shut up, frog. I told you I have to talk with my brother.”

“Is it urgent?”

“No, informative.”

“Then I’m afraid he won’t be able to get to you at the moment.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, you see, mon ami…”

“C’mon lov, don’t leave me here all day.” the clear boom of Scotland’s voice sounded in the background. “I think I'm beginning to cramp up, shet.” The blonde covered the telephone receiver for a second and turned to his partner behind him.

“Because you moved your leg lain, I told you not to.”

“It was starting to fall asleep, what did you want me to do tied up like this?”

“I’ll help you.” Francis whispered sympathetically, returning to the call. “As I was saying-“

“Agh! Bloody hell! Don’t tell me what you two are up to! Gross!” The Frenchman's laugh only worsened the British’s profuse imagination, who closed his eyes to shut out the thought.

“It’s no different from what you do with Gabriel… or your countless lovers, Angleterre.”

“What you two do is nothing normal like what the rest of us do, you perverts!” Arthur shooked his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Tell Scottie that we won’t be in Buckingham on the day of the anniversary, we’ll be going to Windsor.”

“Oh! The castle you two met for the first time? How romantic! What adventure have you come up with, mon petit?”

“Just tell him that. We’ll be back in two days for the main celebration.”

“Tres bien, I’ll pass the message on. Have a good trip!” He moved away a little, “Say hello to the kids, mon amour!”

“Don’t break anything!” Scotland called from a distance, in between laughs with the Frenchman.

“Yes yes… goodbye.”

“What’s wrong, Artie?”

Portugal stepped closer seeing how the other hanged up slowly, his face red and scratching his head nervously.

“Next time you call,” he answered covering his face absolutely embarrassed. “I hate this dysfunctional family.”

“Don’t rest so soon, soldier.” the brunette said.

“Why not?”

“You still have to call Matthew and Alfred…” he crossed his arms, accepting the Brit’s murderous stare with ease. 

***

“I don’t like this.”

“Why do you say that?”

Karpusi’s mouth twisted, concentrating on the conversation with no less effort, so that drowsiness wouldn't overtake him. It was something he did with very few on the planet; Portugal was one of them.

“Every time Arthur has wanted to surprise you with something, it’s become a disaster queued up for the rest of us. His actions do not make waves, but tsunamis for us.”

“I know him, Heracles, if it was something serious I would have noticed it. But he wants to renew our vows in a more original way this time. And to be honest, it does not seem like a bad idea to me; just an inconvenience, perhaps, for everyone’s schedules.”

“Big or small he always causes problems.” he sighted.

Greece scratched the back of his neck while one of his cats sat next to him on the window sill of his living room. The young man looked up at the clear sky, the sun was radiant and dry. On the other side of the call, Portugal smiled softly; the silence between the two, even from a distance, was one of the many things they love about the other.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Just… send me a message every once in a while, to know you’re fine. Not a report.” he clarified; “just something to keep me calm.”

“I will, but I want you to know I’ll be going to an old home with someone I love; I am not off on an adventure into nothingness.”

“I know…” the resigned tone made Gabriel smile. It’s not that the other was jealous like most mortals tended to be. It was simply concern based on long experience.

“Now I have to call Netherlands, he’s the last one left.”

"What did Kiku say about this?"

“He loves Arthur very much, he is one of the few nations who appreciates him deeply. He only showed enthusiasm and curiosity, and Arthur entertains him.”

"Then I have nothing more to object to," he sighed after another silence, "... I love you, my hyacinth."

“Me too, Heraclinho.”

The young Hellene looked with his eyes, apparently lost, towards a horizon that had nothing to do with the classic decoration of the wall in his residence, but something else. Something that he also felt was raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

He looked at his cellphone and hung up, setting it aside as a new cat inspected it and another joined the one on the sill, meowing for attention. Greece reached for his head and caressed him, not looking at him.

Throughout history, his and Britain’s relationship was rocky for multiple reasons; the most prominent being the theft of the earthly memories of his mother Helena, filling the museums and pockets of the English. But, beyond these twists, for not many years they had established a cordial relationship, in pursuit of peace of mind for the common object of interest: Portugal.

That's why he couldn't help but worry, when the Anglo-Saxons mind sparked, it caught fire, for whatever reason.

"Yeah, well... afterall, I can't expect anything normal from Arthur Kirkland"

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Games (Not Party Games) Masterlist

Accident Analysis - excessivephan

Summary: Dan invites Phil to play a viewer suggested game of twister during his live show. It was fun, until Phil fell.

A Twisted Surprise - realityisnoplacetolive

Summary: Twister: it’s all fun and games until someone’s honor is on the line.

Crossy Road (ao3) - Im_Innocent_I_Swear

Summary: Phil is very good at this game. He's about to beat his record, when Dan fucks it up for him. Something he has to pay for...

Cruising for Control (ao3) - thesassykels66

Summary: Dan and Phil play a rather kinky game of Battle Ship

Driving in the Espresso Lane (ao3) - soft_lester

Summary: Phil accidentally had too much caffeine, so he and Dan stay up playing Mario Kart.

First Dates (ao3) - thatsthephan

Summary: The thought of the lads and their friends playing this game is too funny not to write about it.

Game Night (ao3) - LetterJumble

Summary: The five times Phil won game night, and the one time it didn’t matter.

Gaming And Naps - nebulous-frog

Summary: Dan and Phil play Mario Kart and take a nap.

Hide And Seek (ao3) - Danielincrediblex

Summary: Dan is bored so Phil suggests a little game of hide and seek. One thing leads to another.

Hide and Seek (ao3) - M2C

Summary: It started with an innocent game of hide and seek until Dan and Phil chose a tiny space for hiding. Does Dan have a crush on his best friend? Does Phil? Fluff and a lead to smut? Sort of...

In The End, We All Win - adayinthelifeofphan

Summary: The Fantastic Foursome play an extra friendly game of twister.

Les Règles du Jeu (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary: Games night at PJ's. Phil wants to play.

may stay on throws of 7 or less (ao3) - templeofshame

Summary: Kath's choice for board game night makes Dan choose a formula for "success."

Pictionary Proposal (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is with his family in France and Phil is planning to propose when he returns home.

Settling Down (ao3) - thatsmistertoyou

Summary: Dan and Phil go to an arcade and get to talking about kids and commitment. They then get drunk with other YouTubers, who force them to reconsider their relationship.

slow-closing doors (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: SECRETS, DRAMA, BETRAYAL (okay no betrayal dw).

Phil's agreed to be an RA for his floor this year at uni, and he's determined to be the best RA ever - after all, this is these students' first year, he wants them to have the best year ever.

Strip Twister - teenagephantxsy

Summary: Dan and Phil find that playing Twister by themselves is pretty boring. To make the game more interesting, Dan suggests that every time someone loses a round, they have to take a piece of clothing off. Smut occurs

The Phanfic Game (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: "We used to play it just for fun, poker meets party games meets our weird followers, but several years ago, we’d played and things had gone a bit farther than we meant them to. So we stopped. And never spoke of it again."

together: a tale in five board games (ao3) - dieofthatroar

Summary: Dan in his BBC LGBT interview: "I had friends who honestly would be like, 'so, are you going to get a girlfriend at some point?' and I was like, 'so you have no idea, even though we've been friends for five years.'"

Dan and Phil have this friend that comes over for monthly board game night.

When We Were Younger And Free (or Like Kids Again) (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: From a prompt I saw on Tumblr, "Take me laser tagging and push me up against the wall and kiss me to distract me and then shoot me and run away." Dan and Phil leave the house for the first time after coming out. I added in some background Chris and PJ because they don't get enough love, and Louise because I just love her so much.

[andonutty]

ok get ready for SPAM for the character meme thing : first one up? the beloved, the amazing, the most blorbo to ever blorbo ... randy sealman 🥺

send me a character and i'll list...

i'm going to be slowly working through all of these so @ anyone who wants feel free to send more of them! i'm never not accepting these. though if like 5 years down the line you send me the name of a character i'll probably be confused i'm not going to lie

favorite thing about them

EVERYHTINGGNGNG!??!?!?! though i think maybe my FAVOURITE thing about him is how sensitive and sad he is. like yeah sure he's got his "don't even fuckin' start" and "take that shit off" lines but his longest scene has him being so sad and emotional and sensitive?? and then we get the moment where he's like FULLY ass out for this girl he does NOT know?? UGH randy sealman you are the most mentally ill man to ever exist

least favorite thing about them

the fact that he has inconsistent crazy lore and also that he dies and that 0 people care

favorite line

"borden's dead. someone executed him." it is just SUCH a pookie line and he is SOOOOO?!?!?!???!?! so cute for this. obviously i love all his lines but this one is so PARTICULARLY pookie.

brOTP

randy and the bordens for sure. i think their dynamic is so tragically unexplored. like putting aside the fact that i ship randy and william HARD like ... they just seem like such a fun trio? i just think they are so cute and tragic. it's about randy really thinking these two are his BEST friends, meanwhile they both resent him so much after a while. it's just sad!!

OTP

OBVIOUSLY randy/tyler DUHHH. they are so cute and perfect for each other and they fuel me daily. there's something about hole from a man who is so impossibly sad. also im completely enamoured with our lore for them. but inside the actual source material, i would absolutely say randy/william. it's about william's little spat "you're an emPLOYee!" like oh girl you are projecting. you're having a little gayboy moment. honestly josh and daniel killed this movie they put their entire pussy into it and they're the best parts of it so even if their dynamic weren't so compelling i'd absolutely adore them as a couple simply because their characters are so good

nOTP

randy x duolingo girl. also randy x like hugo?? whatever the fuck his name is? creepy ass dude??? basically randy x any rancid character

random headcanon

i think randy really loves the water. this is sort of pulled from josh taylor and stuff about his roles and his insta and stuff, but i think it really fits for randy for him to love the water and swimming and stuff. it also adds a lot to his and maryanne's relationship

unpopular opinion

i love randy sealman and he deserves to live

song i associate with them

obviously deep in the night jay frog remix but i also want to personally shout out not allowed by tv girl and also nocturne by sufferer. i can't listen to deep in the night while writing him so i often listen to a feeling of power from the heavy rain soundtrack instead. i think when i write him i'm usually listening to nocturne though because tv girl, while a bop and super fun to jam to, it's harder to write to imo

favorite picture of them

i think my ultimate favourite picture has to be pool sex but i am also sharing when randy is like REHAB?? and also when he hugs his mommy in the saddest scene known to cinema. imagine your mom holds your face and is like you need help randy and you look so incredibly sad and then you hug her and start crying and say "i'm sorry" like EUGHFHGD. also his ass out picture is a huge fav and it's under the cut

this man was really waiting for this girl to come back from the bathroom and peg him. INSANE.

also not them being SO disrespectful on his cringe fail suspect board and having so many picture of his naked bloodied self. like GIVE HIM SOME DIGNITY