#I feel like I should just make a tangie tag at this point

[anjaelle]

I Think She Knows

Pairing: Tangerine x Black!Reader Warnings: Drunk!Tangerine, Needy!Tangerine, Jealous!Tangerine, (Kinda Toxic Behavior) Word Count: 2.4K Summary: In which Tangie starts realizing things and absolutely does not have the bandwidth to deal with it. Because babygirl is bad at most things, and feelings are at the top of the list. a/n: Something something... I don't advocate for getting drunk and being weird at your not-girlfriend's house. Thanks!

(gif source)

--

When it fully hit him, it was like being mowed down by a 10-ton truck.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. The way his chest suddenly rose and fell made him made him question if his heart was attempting to escape his ribcage just to be closer to you.

You were talking about...something. You came over wearing a skin tight red dress and you carried your shoes in your hands as you tiredly strolled into his kitchen.

Actually, he remembered what you were talking about.

You mentioned how tired you were of having to talk to idiot men, but that stabbing them in the head for your efforts was almost worth the annoyance. Ordinarily he probably would've just laughed or made a smart ass comment about how lucky he was that he could be around you without the threat of violence. But you mentioned fighting, did a small spin in a circle, and did something akin to a silly jig to show how secure you felt in your dress.

He felt his thoughts halt in their tracks, and he suddenly couldn't remember his own birth name, let alone how to form a coherent sentence.

You didn't even seem to notice. Or maybe he hid it well. Because the conversation continued like he hadn't malfunctioned right in front of you. Maybe he was running on autopilot. That had to be it.

He swallowed hard, ran his fingers through his mess of untamed curls, and shakily came back into himself with the heavily realization that he was deeply in love with you.

Did you even know? Was it evident on his face like ostentatious neon lights in the middle of a darkened street? You kept talking about your day and he tried to listen intently. But his own brain wouldn't shut the fuck up.

When he realized that he broke the one rule you two made (which he introduced), he wanted to walk into the Atlantic Ocean with rocks in his pockets. He loved you. You weren't even dating. You were definitely seeing other people and he realized he slowly cut out every other person he'd ever fucked just to spend more time with you.

God. He'd dropped SO many other people. He could remember canceling potential hookups just because you wanted to hang out. Of fucking course he couldn't tell you this now. He'd look like a massive idiot.

"Are you alright? You seem off." You suddenly asked. Your beautiful eyes seemed to roam his face in genuine concern. Death would've been easier to face. In fact, death has notoriously been much easier for him to face.

He forced an assumedly easy grin on his face and shrugged, "I'm just listenin', babe."

You quirked a suspicious brow at him, but continued on with your story of your mission. Every so often he could feel himself staring at your mouth and the way your nose seemed to crinkle at certain memories of the night. He was suddenly hyperaware of how much he seemed to be study your every move. Had he been doing it this whole time?

On some level, he was confident that he could tell you exactly how many birthmarks you had on your entire body.

God what a sick fucking freak.

Suddenly his mouth started moving as if it wasn't connected to his own goddamn brain.

"You stayin' over tonight?"

He'd cut you off mid-sentence with the question. Naturally, you shot him a look that screamed contempt.

"...Maybe." You cut your eyes at him in a subtle challenge.

He felt like he didn't sound the least bit convincing, but he straightened his back to force an air of confidence that he obviously didn't have, "Well I need to know, because I might have plans. With a girl. Tonight."

He wasn't sure what he expected your reaction to be. Maybe he wanted you to be jealous. Or maybe he wanted you to try and convince him to change his mind. It was childish, but he wanted you to give him...something. Instead you raised your brows in surprise.

"Oh, really?" You grinned, "Is she cute?"

Oh come on. He thought.

"Yeah, a real stunner." Stunner? What the fuck was he saying? He couldn't stop himself, "Rebecca's tall, blonde, a model. Fuckin' sexy. So gorgeous."

He watched you slip your heels back on and adjust the top of your dress to hide your bra. He wanted to grab your beautiful face and kiss you. Instead he was spiraling and you didn't even notice.

"Blonde?" You seemed skeptical. Yes, good. "Since when do you go for Blondes?"

"Since always, actually. You think I tell you about everyone I've shagged?"

You shot another cutting glare in his direction, and he fought the childish giddiness rising in his chest. When you looked away from him to tap away on your phone, he tried to figure out what else he could say to get your attention again.

"You're in a particularly bitchy mood today." You suddenly said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should leave, then." He responded, much harsher than he intended to. He winced the minute the words left his mouth and you looked like you wanted to throw something at him.

"Since you wanna be a dick, fine. I'm having Jamesy pick me up."

You threw your jacket on and started tapping on your phone again, which irritated him to no end.

"Jamesy?" He spat, "Who the hell is Jamesy?"

"You think I tell you about everyone I've shagged?" You threw back at him in an almost perfect accent. He deserved it. But he started to panic as you headed towards the door.

"Well fine." He countered, though it sounded akin to a whine, "Stephanie's probably on her way, anyway. I don't want to watch you two fight over me or somethin'."

"Nobody's trying to fight over you, shut up." You mumbled, shoving your phone in your pocket. You took a second to pull the door open, but hesitated, "And also who's Stephanie?"

"The model."

"You said her name was Rebecca."

He stumbled over his words but finally came up with, "I--it's...You just have to be right all the time, don't you?"

He caught the way your mouth twitched in an attempt to fight a laugh, and he really wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you back into his apartment. But your phone dinged again, and you pulled it out of your pocket, "Look, when you're done throwing this little temper tantrum, and you figure out what your problem is, text me. Otherwise, sort your shit out."

Tangerine was having a terrible night. His face sat in a permanent frown as he stared into the fake embers of his electric fireplace and nursed a mason jar of vodka. You were out there getting railed by some prick named James who's too fuckin' old to still be going by Jamesy. And you probably weren't even thinking about him and how he's absolutely piping a real person named Bethany. Stephanie. Rebecca.

♫ I wish, I could just make you turn around Turn around and see me cry There's so much I need to say to you so many reasons why You're the only one who really knew me at all♫

He'd lost track of how many times Phil Collins' miserable pleading played on a loop through his speakers. He felt like a goddamn loser. He scrolled through your Instagram noting that you truly had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. And you were so funny. Maybe the funniest person he knew. Even the emojis you used were cute.

He wanted to jump in front of a train.

"'Maybe you should leave then' you fuckin' idiot." He mumbled pitifully to himself. "What if I just like...went to her house? What if that guy is there? What if she doesn't answer? What if she tells me to fuck off? What if I tell her and she never speaks to me again?"

He stared at his phone sending and unsending his texts to you over and over, trying to figure out what to say. Or if you'd even read it. Suddenly his phone vibrated and a text from you popped up:

You've sent and unsent me like 9 messages. What the fuck do you want?

It took him 8 minutes to find an Uber to your place and 20 minutes to get there. Was he drunk and irrational? Maybe. But goddamn it, you were his woman.

You just didn't know it yet.

When he got to your floor, he started knocking incessantly on your door.

"Babe," he whined, drunkenly, "darling, are you still mad at me? I'm sorry." When he pressed his damp forehead to the cool metal door of your apartment, he didn't even realize how much he was sweating, "I know I said I was fucking that model. Um. Sabrina! Rhonda? Whatever the hell. But I lied. I'm a filthy fuckin' liar."

He pressed his ear to the door, but he didn't hear anything through the thick metal.

"Please don't fuck that James prick--I'm not callin' him Jamesy. I reckon the man is nearly 40, BARE MINIMUM!" He pressed his palm to the door and called your name again, waiting for you to open it.

When you didn't, he slid down to the floor and cradled the half empty mason jar to his chest.

"So take a look at me now, there's just an empty spaaaace. And there's nothin' left here to remind me. Just the memory of your faaaaace. I'm not leaving 'til you talk to me!"

He felt the back of his head thud against the door but he was too wasted to really feel it. He'd definitely feel it come morning, for sure. His eyes drifted closed as his mind started to wander. Maybe you were asleep after being fucked into the middle of next week. Maybe the guy was telling you to ignore his desperate pleas for attention. He wanted to throw up everywhere.

"Fuckin' Jamesy." He mumbled, crossing his arms in childish disappointment.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and you stumbled out of the door with another woman, giggling uncontrollably. You both held bags of fast food in your arms and it was clear you'd had something to drink as well. The minute you caught a glimpse of him sitting slouched in front of your door, he noticed you exchanging looks with the red headed woman by your side.

"Tangerine, what are you doing here?" You carefully asked, clocking the booze in his lap.

"Nevermind that," he slurred, stupidly, "where's Jamesy?"

The tall, slender red-headed woman raised a hand and waved, "Hi, I'm Jamesy. Do we, like, know each other? Or?"

Tangerine groaned and rested his head against the door again, "Ugh! Jamesy's a lass? How the shit am I supposed to compete with that?"

The woman turned to you with a curious look on her face, "What is he talking about?"

"I don't know. Can you hold this please?" You handed the bag of White Castle to your friend and approached the sad, drunk assassin sitting on the floor outside of your apartment. He looked pitiful. When you brushed his curls from his forehead, you noticed that he was sweating vodka. "Okay, sweetness, you need to get up."

When he looked at you, and saw the concern on your face, he gently touched your cheek and frowned, "You're so pretty, baby. You're the prettiest person I've ever seen in my whole entire life."

"You're pretty, too. But you really need to get up. And you're heavy as fuck, so I need you to help me out here."

"Okay," he nodded sharply, shoving the jar of vodka into his leather jacket pocket. And it surprisingly fit. You didn't question it further. You took a step back and held your arms out in case he lost his balance as he rose to his feet.

It was like watching a 5'11 baby deer.

He leaned against the door, trying to keep his balance, as you grabbed your share of the food from your friend and kissed her goodbye as she left for her Uber.

"What kind of girl is named Jamesy?" Tangerine muttered, as you attempted to unlock the door.

You sighed heavily, "Her name is Siobhan James. But I couldn't pronounce Siobhan when we were little, so I called her Jamesy and it stuck."

"That's so cute. I reckon you were a cute kid." He mumbled, resting his damp head on your shoulder. "You're a cute grown-up. We'd make cute kids."

"Yes, sweetness. We would. And also you're soggy."

"Mhmm." He kissed the shoulder that was covered in his sweat and mumbled, "I'm so sorry I was so, so mean to you, angel face. I was just being a massive dickhead."

"Yeah, you were." You agreed, giving up on trying to unlock the door while he leaned onto you.

"I--I just love you a whole fuckin' lot and I don't know how to deal with that shit. Because, like, you could have anyone you want. So why would you want me, you know?" He grumbled.

"There are a lot of reasons why I want you, Tangerine. You never have to feel insecure about that. I'm just...confused. You decided that the answer to this was to make me mad?" You scratched his scalp, "Does that make sense to you?"

"I wanted you to tell me that you didn't want me to see other people."

"Why would I tell you that, if that's what you want?" You asked, sincerely, "I stopped seeing other people because I love just spending time with you--"

"Hang on. You stopped seeing other people? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked." You finally managed to unlock the door, and you both stumbled over the threshold.

"Here I was thinking you were getting pounded by lumberjack-built twats named Jamesy. I was in my apartment crying to Phil Collins for nothing?"

"I guess so." You tossed your keys on the kitchen island as he stumbled to the couch and face-planted into the cushions. By the time you showered and changed, he'd fallen into a deep sleep beside the bottle of water and advil tablets you placed out for him.

"And for the record..." you kissed him on top of his head and turned the lights out, "I love you, too. But you probably won't remember this. So we'll revisit it tomorrow."

[forestshadow-wolf]

Blossoms of love

Stories and feelings

Pairing: soap/ghost

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, hanahaki, mentions of past character death

Ao3 link || chapter 1 || chapter 2

As hard as he tried, sleep evaded all attempts at capture. Still he kept his eyes closed, hoping by some miracle to catch even a wink of sleep. 10, 15, 30 minutes passed before he gave up, finally deciding the eventual back pain from the position wasn’t worth pretending to sleep anymore. When he opened his eyes he was met with a certain pair of piercing, blue, scottish eyes. He felt a less than comfortable flare of pain in his throat, thankful for the mask covering his face.

At some point while he had his eyes closed, Price had moved to the seat next to Gaz, and they were playing a game of cards. Soap, seeing that his eyes were open, scooched over to the seat next to him. The ache didn’t ease as soap sat down, in fact it flamed hotter as soap knocked their knees together. The pain was so great that for a moment he forgot how to breathe, and he hoped only he noticed how raspy his breathing had gotten.

“You alright, L.T.? Bin kind o’ wheesht th’ lest tae days.”

“English.”, the playful jab was second nature by now.

“Quiet. Ye been quiet since yesterday.”, he clarified. Ghost had to clear his throat before replying. Soap gave him a quick look that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Ah ken, but not this quiet.”, his chest seemed to tighten at the scot’s words.

“Don’t worry about me, johnny.”, he could hear his own breath rattling in his chest as he spoke.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that. Though it wasn’t too long after that soap began telling ghost about his day yesterday. How he’d been helping a rookie fit one of the vehicles in the shop, which quickly led to how his granda taught him how to fix all sorts of vehicles.

“He sounds like a good man, johnny.”

“Aye, he was.. He got hit by a drunk driver a few years back, he didn’t make it to the hospital. My nan was heartbroken.” he fidgeted with his fingers as he finished, as if he hadn’t told anyone until just now.

“She…”, he had to clear his throat again, “did she develop…” he trailed off at the end, not wanting to… offend him. Soap nodded his head.

“They offered surgery but, uh, but she refused.”

“Sorry to hear. I… I know the pain.”

His chest twanged with pain, and his breath rattled again as he was overcome with an urge to ease the sergeant’s pain. He was unable to cover the wet cough that took over his body without warning. A hand began rubbing soothing circles on his back and shoulder, and suddenly he had swallowed barbed wire. The next hack brought out copper tanginess, and spit softened spindles to coat his tongue and lips.

When the fit was over he could feel two pairs of eyes on his back, and one on his masked face. He could feel a very slight dampness on his lips, which he assumed indicated his mask hadn’t been left unaffected.

“Ghost.”, price called over in a concerned voice.

“‘M fine, cap. Swallowed a fiber from my mask by accident.” he answered, not turning to look at the man, ignoring the way the debris on his lip rubbed irritatingly between his lip and the mask when he spoke. The twin sets of burning gazes stayed for another excruciatingly long moment before dissipating.

He took a steadying breath that rattled so loudly he was sure soap could hear before lifting up the bottom of his mask, just enough to rest on the bridge of his nose. Soap’s gaze hadn’t wavered once, and his eyes shot down to his lips as soon as they were exposed, recognition lighting up in them.

“Ghost..?”, the words were barely above a whisper.

“This isn’t-.. It’s not… my first time.”, he breathed through his mouth as he spoke.

“We hafta- you should- price has to know.”

“No.” ghost immediately shot back, “not yet.” he added to ease the blow.

“Ghost..”, soap, oddly enough, looked saddened by his words.

“Please, johnny, I should have a few more weeks, at least, before it gets too bad. You can’t tell him.” ghost was nearly ready to get on his knees to beg, when soap finally relented with a dejected sigh.

“You said… this wasnae your first time?” soap asked after a moment of quiet. He nodded.

“It was years ago, and I got the surgery to remove it.” he said softly.

“Why didnae ye just tell whoever it was?”

“It doesn’t work like that.. And I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” ghost whipped off the remaining petals and pulled his mask back down.

“It’s gotta be a natural reciprocation, johnny.” he said, purposefully playing dumb.

“Ah ken that, but why couldnae ya tell ‘em?”, he got the feeling soap knew what he was doing. He answered with a sigh.

“We were both military. It was a bad OP with faulty intel, and it only got worse from there. They didn’t make it, along with several others. A few weeks later I, along with a few others began developing symptoms. I got it removed as soon as I could, it took almost 2 months of recovery. Those two months were the worst I've ever experienced. Don’t think I could do that again. One of them chose not to, they were given the flower just before they died, I heard they got buried together. After that I only went on solo for a while, that’s why I go on so many now. Old habits and all, ya’know.”

Soap hummed an understanding as he shook his head to clear his mind of the memories.

“... Ye ken who it is?”

“maybe.”

“Think ya got a shot?”, the scot asked, an honest question.

“Dunno.”, ghost answered just as truthfully.

“Do I get ta ken?”, soap asked lightly.

“No.” ghost answered just as light. Even as the pain in his chest simultaneously eased up and stabbed deeper at the same time.

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

@checkerscharlie @halb-nichts @heyitsropi @trekkie-in-space

[streetlight11]

Strawberry Lattes

Summary: He always needs his morning caffeine to wake him up for his morning classes. He never knew what it feels like wanting to come back to a particular place again and again solely for one reason, until he met you. You were a full time barista and a part time university student. Despite the stress you get almost every week, your two friends have always been there to support you. What happens when your friends come to visit you at your workplace one day, only to find out that they were friends with the same boy who not only is your eye candy, but also your regular customer?

Genre: Super fluffy

Pairing: Kim Sunwoo x GN Reader

Word count: 5.5k

It was another dreadful morning after only 2 hours of sleep due to staying up all night hoping to finish at least 50% of the assignment. But this wasn’t an excuse for you to call in to work sick or unable to come for your shift. Hence, the reason why you were now forcing yourself out of bed to freshen up and get ready for work. You were a full time barista at a local café downtown just around the corner from your apartment, and also a part time student at Yonsei University.

The reason why you chose this path was because you wanted to further your studies but also earn a monthly allowance in order to pay for your school and house bills since you were living alone and didn't have the time to search for a roommate.

Despite the stress load you get every once in a while, you managed to cope and tried your best to pass each module. Today was no different, as you got ready for work and was out the door by 0730. You arrived at the café only to find your manager already preparing the coffee machines and restocking the cakes in the fridge beside the cashier. You greeted him good morning before he smiled at you.

You went into the back room to put your bag down and took your apron. Proceeding to head to the front where the cashier and coffee machines were.

“Did you get enough sleep yesterday?” Kihyun asked.

Before you could reply, a yawn left your lips as you used the back of your hand to cover your mouth slightly.

“Nope. But I’ll be fine.” You said. You could hear the heavy sigh that left his lips when he closed the fridge door and soon turned to you with a frown.

“(Y/N), you know you have to get some rest. It’s not good for your health.” Kihyun said, but you nodded.

“I know Ki, but I can’t fail this module.”

“Just… know when to take a break okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he went to the back room to settle some paperwork while you stayed by the counter, refilling the powders into the containers. After you were done, a few customers had entered to buy their morning caffeine doses. 4 orders and 5 minutes of silence later, you leaned over the counter top with one knee resting on the stool in front of you that was hidden from any customer in plain sight.

You supported your head on your palm, slowly finding yourself drifting to sleep when the doorbell chimed, catching your attention. You looked up to see a guy walking into the café looking just as tired as you were but he had more life in him.

“Dang he’s cute.” You thought to yourself as you quickly wiped the pout off your face and soon replaced it with a warm smile.

“Good morning, may I take your order?” you greeted him.

He flashed you a soft smile before glancing up at the menu boards hanging above your head.

“Do you have any recommendations? I feel like trying something new.” He finally looked back down at you, only for you to feel as though your airflow got sucked out of your lungs.

“Personally I really like the Iced Matcha Latte with soy milk if I want a non-caffeinated drink. But if I want that espresso kick to start my mornings, I really love the Strawberry Latte, with two pumps of syrup and a light dash of strawberry sprinkles. It’s not too strong and it definitely gives you a sweet tangy balance to the bitter coffee taste.” You ended your speech with a light giggle after you realized how long it was.

The male only smiled fondly at you during that whole minute explanation but it was worth it. “Great, can I get the exact order for the second one then?” He said. You looked quite surprised but nonetheless smiled as you began to key in the order

“Choice of size?”

“Regular please.”

After you were done, you took the regular size takeaway cup and a marker, looking at him to ask for his name or initials.

“Sunwoo.”

The corner of your lips tugged upwards, writing down his name before setting the cup to your left beside the coffee machine and soon charged him for his order. After he was done paying, you returned him his change and gave the receipt before telling him to wait at the collection point. You made the drink exactly how you would make it for yourself. Smiling happily upon seeing your creation being prepared for not yourself, but this time for a customer.

After you had sprinkled the strawberry powder on top of the foam surface, you took the lid and secured it close before you went to the collection point and called out softly.

“Strawberry Latte for Sunwoo.” 

He walked forwards as he took the cup, not forgetting to give you a smile. 

“Thank you-” His eyes darted towards your name tag pinned to your apron before he looked back at you. “...(Y/N)”

You bowed to him slightly as you watched him leave the café. After he left, he didn’t forget to spare a quick glance into the café, only to see your smile soon disappeared. Replacing it with a small pout when you let out a sigh. Sunwoo chuckled as he continued walking to campus that was just 2 blocks away.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about you even after he made it to his first lecture. The small smile gracing on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by his friends as Kevin began to nudge Sunwoo’s elbow the minute he came to sit beside the former.

“Aye, why are you smiling like an idiot huh?” Kevin asked.

“Maybe he just sniffed a smiling gas.” Younghoon said.

“What the hell is that?” Jacob asked.

“I was being sarcastic you nimrod.” Younghoon said, making the former one growl.

“I’ll tell you guys later.” Sunwoo said as he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. 

2 hours passed and they were now heading to the food hall in the main building, when Hyunjae slings his arm over Sunwoo’s shoulder.

“So? Why were you smiling all morning today?” He asked, causing the rest to focus their gazes on him as Sunwoo sighed knowing he couldn’t run away now.

“Ahh, it’s nothing… I went to get my morning coffee and there was this really cute barista who attended to me. That’s all.”

A series of “ooh”s were heard as the boys got noisier by the second.

“Jeez, can y’all shut up? You’re embarrassing me.” Sunwoo said as he quickened his pace, only for Younghoon to grab hold of his backpack and pulled him back.

“Oh please, you should be thankful we even gave reactions to what you say.” Younghoon said, making Sunwoo scoff. 

A few weeks later, you were just handing a customer her plate of pasta and a cappuccino at one of the tables when you heard the doorbell chime. The customer you were attending to, thanked you for bringing her orders to her, smiling and replied to her.

“Your welcome. Enjoy your food.”

With that, you began to walk back to the front counter when you saw a group of guys gathered in front of the cashier. Right when you were just about to walk past them to head behind the counter, one of them glanced towards his right only to lock eyes with you. It was Sunwoo. The same regular customer that came every morning before his classes. The same guy who you may or may not have a tiny crush on.

The moment you locked eyes, you could feel your heartbeat stop for just a millisecond later as he flashed you a soft smile. This was enough to make you blush as you smiled back to him shyly before quickly making your way behind the counter.

“Oh great, you’re back. Help me take their order will you? I have to prepare the delivery ones.” Kihyun said simply. You were about to protest but you had no choice since the other part timer was on his lunch break.

So you nodded defeatedly before you returned the tray back at the collection point before you went back to the cashier, only to see Sunwoo standing there alone.

“Hey.” Sunwoo said as his lips began to tug upwards.

“Hey. What can I get you today?” You asked with a shy smile. Your voice sounded much softer than usual. You didn’t miss the little chuckle that left his lips before he spoke up.

“There’s gonna be a bit more than one order today.”

“I can see that.” You joked.

“Can I get one regular iced mocha, two regular double chocolate frappe, one small iced americano, one regular iced vanilla latte, and my usual please.”

You keyed in his orders as he spoke, only for you to look back up at him to confirm if that was all he wanted. Sunwoo gave you a firm nod, proceeding to charge him for the orders and soon told him to have a seat, you will call out to him once the drinks are ready. Sunwoo nodded as he left, not forgetting to smile at you for the umpteenth time that day.

You soon came beside Kihyun and started to make the drinks. Sunwoo on the other hand, immediately got dragged down into his seat by Kevin when they began to make comments about you.

“You were right, they’re hella cute!” Kevin said.

“Do you think they’re attached?” Younghoon asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, they’re quite cute. It’s impossible they’re single.” Sangyeon shrugged.

“Not all good looking people are attached. Even some normal looking ones are attached. We can’t just judge from their looks.” Sunwoo said defensively, only for Changmin and Haknyeon to smirk.

“Or are you just saying that because you want them to be single?” Changmin said, causing the rest of them to agree teasingly.

“Whatever, they wouldn’t date someone like me anyway.” Sunwoo said.

Not long after he finished his sentence, your voice echoes around the café walls as you called his name.

“Drinks for Sunwoo.”

With that, Sunwoo got up and soon jogged his way to the collection point, only to find you standing behind the counter with the tray in hand. You smiled as you pushed the tray gently towards him.

“Be careful. It’s heavy.” You warned.

“Don’t worry.” Sunwoo said, couldn’t help but smile at him.

He soon came back to their table and distributed the drinks. Almost half an hour had passed, they were just talking about random topics when Sunwoo happened to glance towards the counter. Seeing you laugh at something your manager said.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until Sangyeon spoke up. “Sunwoo yah, if they make your heart flutter that much, why don’t you just go there and ask them out?”

Sunwoo whips his head to Sangyeon, almost pulling a muscle while doing that.

“What?! N-No!”

“Why not?”

“The last time I asked someone out, I got turned down harshly in front of everyone. I couldn’t sleep for days!”

“Sunwoo yah, you’re just thinking too much. Just try and ask them out. Who knows they’ll accept?” Haknyeon asked.

“I don’t wanna risk it.” Sunwoo said. Glancing back to the front counter.

“Why must I have a crush on the cutest barista working just two blocks away from campus?” Sunwoo thought to himself as he gently shook his head and went back into the conversation with the guys.

A few minutes passed, some of them were discussing their project work while some were doing their own stuff when Sunwoo saw you left the counter only to walk towards an empty table near the back of the café. Since the café was not so packed, Kihyun told you to eat at one of the tables. So as to not feel cramped in the back room.

You had a transparent cup filled with what seems to be strawberry latte and a plate of sandwich. Sunwoo was caught staring by his friends as Younghoon nudged his arm to gain his attention.

“This is your chance to talk to them.”

Sunwoo saw some of them nod in agreement as he glanced back at you who was just taking a bite of the sandwich while scrolling through your phone.

With much motivation, he finally got up and made his way towards your table. You were just looking at your Instagram feed when you saw a figure come to a stop on the opposite side of your table.

You looked up to see Sunwoo standing there with a nervous smile as he spoke up. “Do you need some company?” He asked. You giggled, locking your phone screen and soon placed it face down on the table.

“Sure, that would be great.” You said. He pulled the chair out and soon took a seat.

“You’re just having that for lunch?” He asked curiously as he looked at the plate in front of you.

“Mmm.”

“Is that enough to fill you for the rest of your shift?” He asks, genuinely concerned at how little you ate.

“Yeap! Don’t worry. I always get something heavy to eat before my night classes.”

Sunwoo paused only to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“Night classes?”

“I’m a part time student at Yonsei U. That’s why I’m a full timer here.”

“Wow… Are you able to cope with work and study at the same time?”

“It can be tiring and mentally exhausting sometimes but I persevere.”

Sunwoo was shocked at this new information but nonetheless gave you some comforting words to help cheer you on. “That’s… a lot to take in. I hope you don’t stress yourself out too much. Please get some rest and don’t overwork yourself.”

You hadn't seen this side of him before but it was very sweet of him to even say all those things to you. You ended up chatting for a bit, only for you both to find out that he was a student at Hankuk U, you were the same age, you both loved sushi and many more.

Your lunch break was ending soon but you were dreading to say goodbye. “Well, it was really nice talking to you Sunwoo, but I’m afraid my break time’s almost over.” 

You pouted sadly, only for him to chuckle.

“Do you have class tonight?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, don’t worry okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Sunwoo said, making you giggle at his disclaimer.

The both of you got up only for him to speak up.

“My friends and I are leaving soon too. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care, don’t forget to eat before you head to class!” He reminded you. Not forgetting to give him a nod.

A few days later, you had just ended your night class and you were almost burned out for the day, you could barely keep your eyes open. Only for your phone to ring. It was Eric.

“Hello?” You said into the line.

“Hey! Are you finished with class?”

“Yeah. I’m heading down now. Where are you?”

“At the parking lot. Me and Chanhee hyung decided to wait for you today.”

With that being said, you gasped lightly, unable to digest this information.

“Wha- Eric are you serious? You didn’t have to- omg.”

“No, it’s fine! Besides, me and hyung needed to discuss something anyway. Meet us at the parking lot okay?”

Before you could reply, he already hung up the call, making you sigh. You felt bad for making them wait for you since it was already half past 10 at night. But then again, they did it out of their own will. You arrived at the parking lot, only to see Chanhee and Eric leaning against the side of Chanhee’s car amongst a few other vehicles left just chatting away while waiting for you.

Just then, Eric glanced towards the entrance, only to see a very tired you dragging your feet towards them. You could barely open your eyes as you held onto your bag strap for your dear life. Right when you had just arrived in front of them, your vision blacked out, feeling your head pound against your skull. You let out a soft groan, falling forwards, just in time for Eric to catch you.

“Woah, are you okay?” He asked worriedly as Chanhee and him exchanged glances to one another.

“Mmm, y-yeah… I just blacked out for a bit.” You said, only to hear Chanhee sigh.

“How many times must we tell you not to overwork yourself and get some sleep?” Chanhee said.

“I did sleep...” You tried to defend yourself, but they knew you better than you know yourself. 

“How many hours did you sleep last night?” Eric asked as he narrowed his eyes at you questioningly. You avoided their piercing gazes by answering their question in a hushed tone. 

“An hour and a half.” 

With that, your two friends let out a heavy sigh as Eric looked disappointed in his friend. It wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was growing more and more concerned over your sleeping patterns and your health. You weren't just schooling, you were working as well so it would only be right if you maintained a healthy sleeping pattern and a balanced work/study time.

“That’s it. You’re coming home with me. I’m gonna make sure you get that sleep you so well deserved.” Chanhee said as Eric nodded in agreement.

“What? No, I’m fine. Okay, I promise I’ll sleep tonight.” You said.

“Yeah right.”

“You don’t trust me?” You asked with a pout.

“On this? No, I don’t.” With that, you scoffed as you knew you couldn’t fight back with them. So with that being said, you ended up following Chanhee to his apartment since he lived alone. Once you were back at Chanhee’s place, he told you to wash up. He let you borrow a loose shirt and sleeping shorts.

He told you to sleep in his bed and that he could take the couch. At first you rejected it, saying you could sleep on the couch but he refused. 

Chanhee purposely placed your bag in the living room so that you couldn’t sneakily stay up all night and worked on your assignment. Chanhee’s body clock was never normal to begin with but to him, your sleeping pattern was more important than his.

Hence, the reason why he was still awake at 3am, watching the live broadcast of the World Cup. He was trying so hard to keep quiet to avoid waking you up as he eagerly watched the tournament. Just then, he thought he heard soft whimpers in his head.

“What the-” He mumbled to himself as he continued watching the game.

Just then, the whimper sounded again and it was a lot more distinct this time. With that, he lowered down the volume just to see if that sound would appear again. Not long after, he heard the whimper again and it seemed to have come from his hallway.

Chanhee got up immediately as he went to his bedroom, opening the door gently.

That’s when he saw you shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. He approached you in a rush as he saw you clutching onto the blanket against your chest as you had a frown on your face.

You were mumbling something in your sleep but he couldn’t really catch what you said.

“(Y/N)? Hey wake up.” Chanhee said softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook it. It took him 3 tries to finally get you awake when you jolted forward. Your breathing was heavy as you sat there with cold sweat running down the side of your face.

“It’s okay (Y/N), you’re okay. I’m here. It’s just a nightmare.” He comforted you while grabbing a handful of his shirt.

He pulled you into a hug, feeling your body shiver. They stayed like that for a while, only for him to tuck you back in bed. He pushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you gently with a soft smile.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Chanhee.”

He was about to walk away when you grabbed his hand.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Chanhee could only smile, gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb and soon spoke up.

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” You nodded only to let go of his hand. You fell back asleep a few seconds after as he went back to the living room, only to turn off the television and went to sleep himself.

It has been 4 months since Sunwoo first came to the café and you've gotten a lot closer than before. 

However, Sunwoo still has yet to ask you out on a date.

It was a chilly Wednesday afternoon and both Chanhee and Eric promised to visit you after their lecture. The time was 35 minutes past 2 and the two guys had just entered the café, settling themselves into one of the empty tables beside the glass window after they ordered their drinks.

After making their drinks, you made your own drink and took one of the sandwiches from the fridge. Making your way to them for your lunch break.

“Hey guys, one iced mocha and one iced matcha latte for the two sweetest guys I’m lucky to have as friends.” You said, causing the two boys to smirk.

“Just friends?” Eric teased.

“Best friends.” You corrected yourself, only for Chanhee to laugh at Eric’s pained reaction.

“Ouch, never thought I’d be friend zoned this quick.”

You found yourself giggling as you spoke up to comfort your friend while you took a seat beside him.

“I love you, Eric ah.”

He couldn’t find himself being angry at you as he immediately melted and soon became a giggling mess. You were just chatting away, gossiping about the same stuck up girl in their class who keeps acting as if everyone was head over heels for when they’re actually not.

Just then, a familiar voice calls out to Chanhee and Eric from a distance behind you making your heart skip a beat.

“Hey! Hyung! Eric ah!”

Chanhee glanced past your shoulder while Eric turned to look over his own shoulder before they smiled widely and waved eagerly to whoever was behind you.

“That voice…” You whispered under your breath, only to slowly turn around. That’s when you saw Sunwoo walking up to your table along with his usual group of friends. However, you didn’t miss the look on Sunwoo’s face when he locked eyes with you. He was definitely surprised but also confused as to why you were seated with his friends.

“Oh? It’s the cute barista!” Juyeon said innocently. Flashing them a bashful smile. Just then, both Chanhee and Eric turned to look at each other simultaneously only for them to look at you and spoke up in unison.

“You’re the cute barista Sunwoo’s been talking about?!”

With that, Sunwoo gestured a punch to them signalling them to keep quiet. Only for him to look at you and ask.

“You know them?” 

You could only nod as you told him the truth.

“I’ve known them since college.”

The rest of the boys gasped at the newly profound information. They couldn’t believe you were mutual friends with Chanhee and Eric. The 12 of you ended up sitting in two separate tables side by side whilst Chanhee and Eric began to spill the tea about Sunwoo.

“I can’t believe he’s been talking about you all these while.” Eric said.

“If I had known sooner, I would have set you two up on a date.” Chanhee said, causing you to glance at Sunwoo who was sitting opposite you. You cleared your throat and glanced down at your wrist watch before you got up abruptly to avoid any more awkward conversations.

“Oh look, my break time is ending. Nice talking to you guys. Thanks for visiting me today, my babies. More cakes for you? Yes? Okay.” You said in a rush. Quickly leaving the table, earning a laugh from the guys. Thinking that your actions are cute.

“Sunwoo, you really have a good taste don’t you?” Eric teased, making Sunwoo throw a tissue paper packet to Eric’s face, catching the poor boy by surprise.

You were in the back room, having a short break when your co-worker, Mingi called for you from the door.

“(Y/N), somebody wants to talk to you. He said he’s a friend of yours?” Mingi said, making you hum in confusion but nonetheless left the back room.

Only to be met with Sunwoo standing at the collection point.

“Sunwoo?”

“Hey, umm, I was wondering… Are you… free, this weekend?” You found yourself blushing as you tried to come up with a quick response.

“Uhh yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Sunwoo didn’t expect you to say yes so quickly but it definitely made him feel slightly happy that he didn’t get rejected.

“Great. Umm, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Okay.” You smiled genuinely.

“Okay… Well, I uhh, better get going. Bye (Y/N). See you.” He said shyly, his ears starting to burn red.

“See you Sunwoo.” You said, only for him to quickly leave before his whole tomato head explodes.

Weekends finally came and it was already 30 minutes past 7 and you were struggling to find a nice outfit to wear. You didn’t know exactly where he was taking you, all he said was to wear nicely. You were nervous to say the least. You haven't been on a date in like what? 2 years?

Ever since your last date where you got stood up, you decided not to go on any more blind dates. You would rather stay single for the rest of your life than being played with and getting your heart broken again and again.

Sunwoo texted you a few minutes later saying he was downstairs so you replied by saying you’ll be down in a minute. You soon left your apartment and locked the doors before heading down the corridor towards the lift lobby. Once you were at ground level, you made your way out, only to see Sunwoo leaning against his car door.

The minute he noticed your figure walking towards him, he looked up only to give you a one over. You stopped a few feet in front of him with a shy smile as he spoke up.

“Wow, you look really stunning.”

“Thank you. You look dashing.” You giggled.

Sunwoo was wearing a dark blue button down shirt tucked into his black denim skinny jeans, a pair of black sneakers and a few stainless steel accessories. He recently dyed his hair to a deep berry colour. He soon opened the door for you. Getting in before he walked over to the driver seat. Once he was in, he buckled his seatbelt and started his car engine.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Sunwoo said with a cheeky smile as you could feel your heartstrings pull.

The drive to the destination wasn’t as long as you thought, maybe because the journey was filled with jokes and laughter every now and then. Before you knew it, he finally pulled into a parking lot at what seems to be an outdoor movie theatre.

“Sunwoo yah… This is…” You paused as you got out of the car while he reached over to the back seat to take the blanket he brought to lay it down on the grass. He came back to your side after locking his car, only for you to continue from where you left off.

“So cute. How did you even find out about this outdoor movie?”

He smiled as you both began to walk towards the open space where quite a lot of couples were already seated down on their own blankets.

“My friend told me about this when he went on a date with his girlfriend the other day. So I figured why not give it a try.” Sunwoo said, making you blush.

You managed to find an empty space so he laid down the blanket and soon sat down. While waiting for the movie, you talked about almost anything. The movie soon started as everyone was starting to get excited. Halfway through the beginning of the movie, you were sitting beside Sunwoo with your legs extended out in front of you.

The night slowly got breezy, feeling the cool air blowing on you softly. Just then, he saw you straightening your posture, rubbing your arms to keep yourself warm. He felt bad that he couldn’t give you his jacket since he didn’t wear any.

However, an idea flashed across his mind, making him turn to you to speak.

“Hey, are you cold?” He asked. You turned to him with a small smile before you answered.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. It’s just a little chilly, that’s all.” Sunwoo wasn’t convinced as he saw your teeth clattering, making him chuckle softly.

“You know, I heard from somewhere that close body contact can keep us warm.” Sunwoo suggests indirectly to you, turning your head to him to see a playful smile on his lips.

You giggled as you looked at him with your brows raised.

“Are you okay with it?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t suggest it would I?” He asked, causing you to mentally facepalm at your ridiculous self.

“Right. You have a point.”

You heard him chuckle when he pat the empty spot in between his legs, gesturing for you to come over.

“C’mere.” He said.

Once you have settled down between his legs, you feel him wrap his arms around your body, trapping your arms. Gently pressing your back against his chest. Warmth immediately engulfing you both as you snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Warm enough?” He asked, only for you to nod.

You stayed like that for the rest of the movie. Sacrificing his back if it meant keeping you warm throughout the 1 and a half hours of the movie. 

After the movie ended, you went to get supper before he sent you home. You agreed to let him walk you all the way to your door. Hence, the reason why you were now standing outside your apartment door. You unlocked the door but then turned around to face him.

“Thank you for today Sunwoo. It was a fun experience watching a movie outdoors for the first time under the starry night.” You said as he smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it…”

“I hope we can do something like this again soon.” At that being said, his ears perked up, staring at you in awe.

“A-Again? Does that mean…?” He paused, causing you to giggle.

“Yes. I’d love to go on a date with you again.” 

Sunwoo couldn’t contain his excitement as he smiled from ear to ear, his adorable toothy grin made your heart skip a few beats. He elicited a soft giggle, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

Just then, you decided to take it upon yourself by pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. Sunwoo was frozen in place as you smiled up to him endearingly before you bid him goodbye. You quickly entered your apartment to hide your flushed face when you could feel the embarrassment starting to creep up on you. You leaned against the door. Trying to steady your heartbeat.

After what felt like forever, you finally pushed yourself off the door and was about to walk deeper into your apartment when there was a knock.

You turned around to open it and you were greeted by Sunwoo again, seeming he finally came into senses.

Without any words exchanged, he took one quick step forward, reaching up to cup your face with one hand before he gently pressed his lips against yours. You melted almost immediately when you felt him smile into the kiss. Sunwoo could feel his heart get weaker, snaking one hand around your waist while pulling you closer to him.

Your hands rested on his chest as he pulled away with a soft sound, only for you to keep your gaze on his collarbone. Too shy to look at him in the eye.

Sunwoo gently took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. Tilting your head up, making you lock eyes with him.

“I’m pretty sure that just proves to you how I feel about you, but I still wanna tell you in words. I really, really like you. And I would love to take you out on more dates and be able to call you mine.”

With his cute confession, you couldn’t help but giggle. Wrapping your arms around his neck before you spoke up.

“I like you too Sunwoo. And yes, I would love to go on dates with you, and for you to call me yours.” With that being said, Sunwoo smiled in victory. Kissing you again sweetly.

The next day, you broke the news to your friends as you got happy cheers and excited screams in the group chat. Sunwoo never thought he would date anyone after being rejected multiple times but maybe he was fated to meet you and be the person who orders the same drink every time at the café you worked in. Maybe now he could finally live his love life with more cuddles and Strawberry Lattes.

[haikyuucute]

Untamable (Ushijima Wakatoshi) [Omegaverse AU]

Pairing: Alpha!Ushijima x omega!reader

Summary: You seemed like an untamable omega to Ushijima

Warnings: Sexual themes, implied smut

Word Count: 5.6k

[A/N]: So I’ve been rlly iffy about posting this bcuz I know that this au isn’t everyone’s favorite. But I rlly like this au and I have fun writing for it, so I figured if someone doesn’t like it then they can scroll past it or blacklist the tag ‘omegaverse’ anyway, so I decided to go ahead and post this

Ushijima Wakatoshi liked order and he liked things that made sense. He was a simple man and he would call it like he’d see it.

And what made sense to him was the dynamic system. Alphas were placed at the top, then betas, then omegas.

He believed this was right because it was ingrained in everyone’s genetics to follow this order.

It was why Hinata Shouyou had affected him so deeply. He was small, his volleyball technique was a mess and yet he and Karasuno beat Shiratorizawa.

Ushijima considered himself to be a very strong alpha— possibly the strongest in Shiratorizawa. His presence commanded every area he was in and omegas would fall silent at his scent, waiting for him to speak first. He had even been dubbed the alpha of alphas in school.

So it didn’t make sense for Hinata to have so much baseless confidence. It annoyed him and got under his skin to the point he thought about it quite often and how he could win next time.

Another thing that got under his skin was the little omega he shared a couple classes with— only she annoyed him far more than Hinata did.

Because while the little orange haired boy was a weak alpha, he was still just that. An alpha.

And yet, you walked around with the confidence of an alpha.

You were definitely the outcast, most omegas found you annoying and most alphas didn’t like to bother with an omega that didn’t know their place. Your scent wasn’t sweet and delicate like an omega’s either, it was tangy and citrusy (not at all a bad smell, even Ushijima would admit it was nice, just not that of an omegas). And worst of all, if you stepped out of line and an alpha tried to put you back in your place, you’d stick up your nose, turn the other way around, and continue with what you were doing in the first place.

This behavior always sat wrong with him but he never had to come into close contact with you, he’d just catch instances of this in class or in the hallways. Always hating the way you demanded to be seen.

And Ushijima knew he wasn’t in the wrong because everyone had found you strange. You didn’t even have any friends until your third year of high school when you shared your first class with the renowned Guess Monster.

Tendou, Ushijima, and you all shared a science class your third year, and though Ushijima had prior knowledge of you, it was the first time Tendou ever really noticed you.

And being dubbed a freak himself, Tendou immediately wanted to befriend you and it was only a short while after that he noticed how much you got under Ushijima’s skin.

So as a fellow freak and probably the only person other than Hinata that could get a rise out of the usually stoic alpha— well, Tendou just had to become your best friend.

Thus it began.

Tendou inviting you to work on group projects with him and Ushijima.

Tendou then inviting you to watch practices.

Tendou invited you to games.

And worst of all— Tendou invited you to hang out in his and Ushijima’s dorm.

And you quickly became someone Ushijima had to endure all day, every day.

You knew right from the beginning when you started hanging out with Tendou that the great Ushiwaka didn’t want anything to do with you. If you tried to talk to him he’d answer with four words at most or blatantly ignore you all together (then again he did that with everyone, but with you it just somehow felt different). And that was because although he was a strong alpha, he had better things to do than put an omega back in their place.

So he put up with you for days— weeks— months— until suddenly he couldn’t.

In what Tendou liked to call the “staring contest of the year” you had outwardly challenged Ushijima. But!— in your defense it was on an outrageously ridiculous subject that you believed you had the right to believe and that Ushijima should’ve respected that regardless of his own biases.

It was an argument that took place in their dorm while the two of them were there. You had casually walked in, an agitated look on your face, exclaiming:

”I hate alphas!” You yelled, pushing their door open. You ignored Ushijima who sent you a slightly irritated glance from where he was seated at his desk, reading a volleyball magazine or something, and went immediately over to the giggling Tendou.

He was up on his bed on the top bunk and you climbed the ladder, seating yourself next to where he was sprawled out, with a pout on your face.

”Should I be offended~” he laughed.

”You don’t count.”

”That’s more offensive than your last statement.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, you’re the exception— but alphas suck.”

He moved closer, throwing an arm around you with a large grin, “Did something happen? Do tell, (F/N)-chan~” he sang.

“Well... I may have gotten into another fight with an omega.”

”Ohoho~ did you win?”

”I guess. She pulled my hair so I punched her and... found out she has a mate.”

Tendou burst into another fit of laughter, and started poking your side, “Did you try fighting an alpha again?”

You swatted his hands away, “I just stood up for myself.”

”And how’d that go?”

”Stupid. He came up to me and did that dumb alpha thing where they stand up straighter and puff their chests out with the expectation that I’d be a cowering little omega in their presence,” you scoffed, “He told me that I shouldn’t step out of line and start fights with mated omegas, which is total bullshit because she pulled my hair first!” You yelled, falling back against his bed. “I hate alphas!”

“You punched his mate,” Ushijima who usually ignored you whenever you were over spoke up for the first time.

You furrowed your eyebrows, propping yourself up on your elbows, “Yeah, cause she pulled my hair.”

”She was wrong too.”

You scoffed, “So what? The alpha was in the right?”

”You punched his mate, he was protecting her.”

You shot up and glared at Ushijima who was still reading his magazine. ”Well I was protecting myself.” You practically hissed out.

Ushijima finally stopped what he was doing and turned around to stare up at you from where you were seated on Tendou’s bed.

Tendou’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two of you, seeing how pissed off you were, and at how Ushijima was taken aback at the tone you used with him, and Tendou’s grin slowly widened.

”You speak as if you’re an alpha,” Ushijima said, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

”I speak like an omega who’s fed up with alphas,” you spat back.

Ushijima slowly stood up and you could smell his scent had changed. It was stronger and more powerful— definitely covering up yours and some of Tendou’s scent. And you could pretty much smell how annoyed and pissed he was with you.

And as a result you felt the omega in you want to apologize and take everything back, bowing your head down, too weak to make eye contact. It was a feeling you had become quite accustomed to with how often alphas did this to you, and you became quite good at ignoring those instincts.

But Ushijima was stronger than all those alphas, and Tendou watched in awe as the most strong willed omega he’s ever met started to shrink in her seat, eyes glued to her lap.

Ushijima stood in front of you, and due to his height he was nearly eye level with you despite you sitting up on the top bunk.

“You’re careless,” He spoke lowly, as blunt as ever, “You speak the first thing that comes to mind with no regard if you offend someone, and you’re surprised when an alpha tries to put you back in your place. You’re an omega.” His voice loud and firm, “Power does not lean in your favor. Learn your place.”

You bit down on your lip hard, finding it difficult to meet his eyes but with everything you had in you, you forced yourself up straight and looked him dead in the eye.

Tendou’s eyes widened at your display but he kept quiet, glancing at how the usually stoic Ushijima looked slightly thrown off guard.

“I will never settle for being submissive,” you spoke slowly, never breaking your eye contact, “And I will never stop striving for independence. You like this power system because it’s all you’ve ever known— I’ll show you that you’re wrong and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

From there the two of you stared at each other for what felt like forever, Tendou holding his breath to see who would give in first. Until it was finally time to go to volleyball practice and Ushijima was forced to look away, making you smile triumphantly.

And so it began. The start of an overly exhausting plan that you were committed to executing.

And if Ushijima thought you were a nuisance before it was nothing compared to now.

A few days after the incident you acted as if it never happened, putting on a cheery and energetic façade. And you actually spoke to him in that same friendly manner you spoke to Tendou and others on the team.

He soon realized there would be no end to your chatter. You’d go on and on about your day, shows and movies you liked, hobbies that you were into, and you’d ask him tons and tons of questions that he’d just ignore but you wouldn’t shut up, forcing him to answer your questions— you even started calling him Waka-kun while you remained (L/N)-san.

But you didn’t care. You vowed that you’d force your way into his heart until he finally saw you as an equal instead of an overly obnoxious omega.

It took months but somehow, by some kind of miracle, Ushijima came to the conclusion... you actually weren’t that bad.

Of course you were still loud, kind of annoying, and spoke out of turn most of the time. But he guessed that some of your better qualities started sticking out the more you hung around him.

For one, you were always happy.

Happiness wasn’t an emotion Ushijima felt often, he knew the feeling of victory when he defeated a difficult opponent in volleyball but that never lasted that long because, well— Ushijima always won...(for the most part). And he knew what it felt like to be satisfied and generally content.

But the happiness you exuded. This absolutely boundless amount of energy and cheerfulness you walked around with despite being put down by practically the entire student body, it made you slightly more admirable in his eyes.

And then he saw your loyalty and devotion towards the team and specifically Tendou. By definition, Tendou was technically your best friend and you made sure to prioritize him in your life because of how grateful you were to call him a friend, this meant inviting him out places and never turning down an invitation he made. You let him talk to you when he was down and comforted and supported him appropriately. And when it came to the team, you were kind of an honorary manager (you didn’t actually have the title because the coach would never trust an omega to do the job) but you gave them water bottles and towels during practice and made sure to attend all their games and cheer for them. So even the team who had been kind of cold to you in the beginning, ended up growing rather fond of you, and you were just as happy to consider them your friends.

But he supposed what stuck out to him the most was how determined you were to be more acquainted with him. You’d ask about his day, his childhood, volleyball, anything really. And you somehow had the ability to pull more than a couple words from his mouth as time went on.

And all from the shadows, the Guess Monster was watching. Observing how a very odd friendship grew between the two of you. And although Ushijima rarely let any emotion of any kind show, after three months Tendou made an educated guess.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was actually falling for you.

From a surface level no one could really tell, but Tendou started picking up on the way Ushijima’s scent would change whenever you were near, it’d grow softer, and slightly more non threatening than his usual scent. It was a small detail but spoke volumes. Other than that, he noticed more and more how he grew comfortable around you, letting you talk his ear off and he’d answer your questions with more than three words. But what gave it away for him was when he had stepped into one of your fights where an omega started yelling at you for acting too much like an alpha. It was the first time he had ever done it and although you told him you could fight your own battles, he doubted it would be the last fight Ushijima broke up for you.

With you it was actually harder to tell if you were starting to like Ushijima back, and this was based off of all your rants he’s heard about you never wanting to mate with an alpha and that you’d much rather mate with a beta. It was hard to picture you with an alpha and even harder to picture you with an alpha as strong as Ushijima.

But he, figured out that yes— you did reciprocate those feelings when he caught a certain sight.

You went out with Tendou and Ushijima one night and stayed up late, you were absolutely exhausted so Ushijima ended up giving you a piggyback ride back to your dorm. And that’s when Tendou noticed the way you nuzzled your face into his neck. He couldn’t tell if you were trying to scent yourself or if you just found his scent soothing enough to fall asleep to— but either way there were definitely mutual feelings there.

The only problem was that the two of you were too dense to acknowledge those feelings.

So as usual Tendou decided to take it upon himself to get the two of you closer.

He came up with a fairly simple but hopefully effective plan.

Not that long ago you came to Tendou and asked if he’d been willing to give you volleyball lessons every now and then after you came to really admire the sport after watching them play for so long. And he agreed of course.

So now it was just a matter of getting Ushijima to take his place—

“I won’t be able to make our volleyball lesson (F/N)-chan,” Tendou suddenly spoke up from where he laid on the floor.

He watched as your head poked over the top bunk where you lay, a pout on your face, “What? Why not?” You whined.

”I’ll be busy this weekend, but!” He suddenly exclaimed, looking over at Ushijima, “Maybe Wakatoshi-kun could take my place.”

”No,” came Ushijima’s answer, from where he sat on his bed.

Tendou frowned at how dense he could be.

You pouted further, “Waka-kun would be mean about it if he helped me anyway.”

”Don’t be silly—“

”I’m not! I can picture it now!” You suddenly made a very serious face, mimicking Ushijima’s, “(L/N)-chan you have awful technique. (L/N)-chan you understand nothing about volleyball. (L/N)-chan you suck.”

Tendou giggled at that, seeing your point, “You’d also be getting taught by a top player in the nation~” he sang.

You paused for a moment, thinking it over, “... We’d probably get in a fight though and I hate arguing with him.”

”You hate it because you lose,” Ushijima spoke up.

”Shut up!” You yelled, moving to hang over the edge of the bed to see him.

He glanced up at your upside down form, “l’m right.”

And since he was always painfully blunt and honest, you knew he actually was right, so you settled on pouting further.

”Y’know people would kill to have someone like Wakatoshi teach them volleyball,” Tendou said, continuing to convince you, “He’s the best of the best, don’t you want to be the best~”

”I’m not that passionate about volleyball,” you deadpanned.

He faltered, until a thought struck him, and he grinned, “Remember that time you tagged along with the team to the beach and we were short one person for volleyball and asked you to play?”

You glared darkly at him for reminding you about that humiliating incident— they were a powerhouse school after all, why the hell would they ask you to play when you had barely any experience. “Yes,” you muttered.

”Well what if Wakatoshi-kun taught you a few of his tricks and you got to show off next time we play together.”

He knew he had you when your eyes widened in realization.

You looked back down at Ushijima from where you hung upside down, “Waka-kun teach me volleyball.”

”No,” he replied, looking down at his homework.

”Please.”

”No.”

”Please.”

”No.”

”Please.”

”No.”

“Ugh— why notttt,” you whined.

”Because you don’t play volleyball.”

”Well I want to show off to the team the next time you guys force me to play.”

”You still wouldn’t be as good as them.”

You frowned, “I already know that, but you don’t always have to say the truth.”

Ushijima couldn’t help himself when he looked back up at you, something in your tone bothering him. And the pout and look in your eyes really bothered him for some reason. But he didn’t like being the cause of it and he really wanted to see it leave your face.

“Fine,” he gave in. He watched as your face instantly lit up, a smile gracing your features and it admittedly made him feel weirder than when you were upset.

You flipped off the top bunk to Ushijima’s bed and threw your arms around his shoulders in a hug, “Thank you Waka-kun~” you sang.

And Tendou grinned from ear to ear, watching as Ushijima’s face tinted the lightest of pinks.

——

“You’re late,” Ushijima grunted as he watched you burst through the gym doors, trying to catch your breath.

”I know!” You panted, “I got held up by a teacher.” You said, throwing your bag to the ground. You made your way over to Ushijima who was previously practicing by himself as he waited. “Now, you can’t be mean remember, this is just for fun. It’s not like I’m gonna be using this in any actual tournaments, this is just to shut the team up the next time they make fun of me for sucking at volleyball.”

He nodded and the two of you started.

You quickly figured out that playing volleyball with Ushijima was very different than when you’d play with Tendou. Tendou was always goofing around and joking with you but with Ushijima he was unsurprisingly very serious, so it was up to you to lighten the mood. But you had to admit he was a pretty good teacher and kept the rude comments to a minimum, which was a feat on its own because he very rarely censored himself and you knew you weren’t doing to well.

It was well into the hour when shit finally hit the fan.

Ushijima asked you to toss him the ball to demonstrate him hitting a spike. So you did and as usual because of his strong spikes, the ball ended up rolling off, landing by your bag on the other side of the gym.

You offered to go get it, and in hindsight you really wished you did. But Ushijima said it was fine and went off to grab the ball.

When he went to pick it up, he noticed the zipper of your bag was opened and something inside caught his eye. He glanced back at you to see you looking down at your phone, before he brought his attention back to the object and pulled it out. His eyebrows furrowed.

It was a pill bottle and the label told him they were heat suppressants. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

The date said they were prescribed about a month ago and the bottle was already three quarters gone.

He stood up straight and turned, “What are these?” He called out to you, making you look up.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Idiot, are you going through my bag? Put those back and get back over here.” You rolled your eyes.

He only listened to half of what you said as he held the bottle and walked back, “(L/N)-chan, what is this?”

You looked at him confusedly, “They’re heat suppressants or did you forget that I’m an omega and go through heats?”

”More than half of them are gone.”

You faltered, realizing he checked the date on them. But you played it cool and shrugged, “So?”

”It’s dangerous to have that many suppressants in a month.”

You rolled your eyes, “What? Are you suddenly an omega now? They’re my pills, I can use them how I want.”

You could see Ushijima getting frustrated now, “The side effects of this many can be harmful to your body.”

”I’m fine— I’m more than fine. I haven’t had to go through a heat in a while and I’ve been functioning just the same, only it’s better now because I don’t have to deal with heats.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean by ‘a while’?” He asked worried to hear just how long you were putting your body through this. Suppressants were meant to make heats easier, not stop them all together.

“Nothing, it really doesn’t matter,” you said in an attempt to brush it off.

”How long (L/N)-chan?”

You clenched your jaw, looking down at the ground, not answering.

”How long,” his voice became darker and firmer.

You hated it but when he used that tone, you found it difficult to deny, “A....a year.” You muttered.

Ushijima’s eyes widened in shock and horror, and it was probably the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “You missed four heats?”

”Well.... yeah.”

”You can’t do that to your body—“

”Why not?” You snapped, looking up at him, “It’s my body isn’t it? And my heats are my business. I’ve been completely fine up till now anyway.”

”What about your next heat? You have to have one eventually and if you’ve missed four, your next heat will be unbearable.”

”That’s only for some people,” you scoffed, “I could be completely fine.”

”And if you’re not? You don’t have a mate.”

”Why do you even care!” You huffed.

”Because—“ you’re my omega.

Ushijima completely stopped as the thought popped in his head. He was caught so off guard by that he forgot his argument.

But he did his best to compose himself before stating, “I’m keeping these.”

You scowled, “Like hell you are!” You yelled before leaping for the pill bottle, but he just held it over his head and out of your reach. You grabbed his arm and tried to pull it down but he would barely budge, “Ushijima this isn’t funny!” You yelled out in anger and slight panic.

He ignored the slight sting he felt at hearing his last name, but he didn’t give in, “This is for your own good.”

”Fuck my own good! I need those pills— I can’t go through another heat!”

”You’re an omega,” he snapped, “You can’t keep pretending you’re an alpha. Heats are necessary, learn your place already.”

And there were those words you absolutely despised, ‘learn your place’.

You blinked back the frustrated tears, “I’m leaving,” you scoffed. And with that you quickly ran out, grabbing your bag and leaving a very pissed off alpha behind you.

—

Tendou had no idea how things could get so screwed up the one time he got you two alone together.

You ended up avoiding Ushijima at all costs and Ushijima being who he was was definitely not going to approach you first when he believed he was right.

But Tendou could only handle so much of this stupid fight before trying to convince the two of you to make up.

But you said you’d only forgive him if he gave you your pills back and Ushijima said he wasn’t going to. So when Tendou got you to swear to Ushijima that you’d use them properly was he then able to sway Ushijima into giving them back.

So he did and you forgave him.

Of course there was still some resentment and animosity about the whole thing, but after a couple weeks things were back to normal more or less.

That was until that inevitable day approached.

You hadn’t come to class which wasn’t unusual because you liked to skip every once in a while, so Ushijima and Tendou didn’t think much of it at first.

That was until they overheard a conversation between two omegas not too far from them.

”The entire history hallway literally smells like omega.” The one girl complained.

”Really?” Her friend asked, “What happened.”

She shrugged, “Dunno. I think some omega went into heat, but my god is it strong. I think they locked themselves in a supply closet, there’s a group of as alphas just outside the door.”

”I feel kinda bad. We should tell someone to go help them. Do we know who the omega is?”

”Everyone’s pretty sure it’s (L/N) since the scent is pretty citrusy. Her roommate also told me she takes suppressants like they’re candy so it makes sense.”

Suddenly Ushijima had stood up. Tendou looked up at the alpha with a questioning gaze, but as he watched him just head straight for the door, a grin grew on his face as he knew where this was headed.

—

You were a mess as you hid away inside the supply closet. The heat had randomly hit you out of no where without a single warning. The most you were able to do was quickly lock yourself in the closet. And now you were left trembling in a curled up ball in the corner of the room.

You were hot everywhere and covered in a layer of sweat. Your chest rose and fell in breathy pants and the uncomfortable pool of wetness in your panties was getting really distracting.

And on top of all that, there was a group of alphas just outside calling out to you. You couldn’t make out what they were saying because of how overwhelmed you felt but their scents were definitely accelerating the heat.

And dread filled you at the thought of Ushijima being right. All four heats that you missed just hit you all at once.

This was the most helpless you’ve ever felt.

...Then you smelled it.

A scent far more overpowering than the alphas scents combined. And a scent you knew all to well. Heavy and woody— a scent that made your head spin and squeeze your legs together as a broken whimper left your throat.

The others had scattered in fear, soon leaving you alone with Ushijima Wakatoshi’s scent.

Ushijima walked in, easily breaking the lock. His gaze was intense as usual but there was also something else in his eyes as he found you curled up on the ground of the supply closet, in heat.

And even in the presence of an omega in a heat extreme as yours, Ushijima showed an incredible display over his instincts as he barely seemed bothered by it. The only thing that gave him away was how his breathing slowed, taking in deeper breaths as what was probably the prettiest and most mouth watering scent he ever smelled flooded his senses.

His presence commanded the area and the air reeked of his scent, and as tough as you were, even you fell weak to the presence of an alpha while in heat— and the so called alpha of alphas no less.

Your legs were squeezed tight as you buried your face in your knees, covering your nose from his scent.

”(L/N),” he said, voice deep and a touch of anger in it.

You whimpered, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall.

”Waka-kun,” your voice came out weak, broken, and muffled, it had even made Ushijima falter for a second, uneasy seeing you act so helpless. “I-I can’t— I can’t do this,” you shook your head, the tears running down your face now. “I-it’s barely even started and— and th-this feels worse than m-my worst heat.” You sniffled, body trembling and shaking now.

”I told you not to take those suppressants.”

A broken moan came out after hearing his rumbling voice and you squeezed your legs tighter— how embarrassing.

In truth, Ushijima greatly disliked seeing you like this, especially after developing such a fondness over the tough and fiery omega that used to drive him mad (and still does from time to time.) But there was still something he greatly enjoyed with seeing how submissive you were being in front of him— as long as he was the only one that got to see you like this. So what you said next, sparked something in him.

”D...do y-you know an a-alpha that... can help?” Your words were broken up with sobs and stifled moans.

And a strong sense of possessiveness washed over him at the thought of another alpha possibly aiding you through this heat.

”That won’t be necessary,” he spoke curtly, “Stand up,” he said, walking forward.

You clamped your hand tighter over your nose, suffocating on his scent, and you shook your head furiously, “I-I don’t know if I c-can—“

”Stand,” and there was no arguing with the Alpha tone in his voice, your body wouldn’t let you.

So on trembling knees you shakily stood up, holding your breath as you used the wall for support as you leaned against it.

Something wild was overtaking Ushijima’s senses at seeing how fragile and delicate you looked, and he stalked forward, eyes heavy with an intense gaze on you.

And he was now in front of you as you stared down at the ground, waiting for what he’d do next as you tried your best to stay composed by attempting to ignore his presence.

Suddenly, he raised his hand to cup your jaw, his other hand gripping your wrist to pull it away from your nose. And the absolute predatorial look in his eyes would’ve knocked you to your knees if the wall wasn’t there to support you.

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping a tear away. “From tonight onwards you’re mine.” He growled before lifting your jaw up further.

You moaned at that and quickly nodded, “I-I’m yours.”

”I don’t care if you always want to fight back as long as you understand that right now, I’m in charge.” He said as his thumb traced your bottom lip before tugging down on it. And the second after you nodded, he crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.

Your resolve immediately crumbled and you easily melted into the kiss, collapsing into him. A cry left your lips which was promptly swallowed by Ushijima. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you tried rutting against his thigh. But he quickly grabbed ahold of your hips, stilling you.

You whined into his mouth, “Please Waka-kun.”

”Patience,” he commanded, making you quickly shut your mouth. “I’m going to take care of you,” and with that he picked you up.

He walked with you in his arms through the deserted hallway, making his way towards the dormitories, specifically his.

And as he walked through the school building, classes having been just let out, he ignored the stares and stunned silence from his peers as they gawked at the sight of the Alpha of Shiratorizawa Academy walking with the little annoying omega of the school in his arms, who was clearly in heat.

But right now all that was on his mind was getting you back to his dorm safely so he could spend the next how ever many days fucking you until all you could possibly remember was his name.

Ushijima unlocked his dorm door, seeing an already grinning Tendou sitting upon his bed, “Well didn’t this work out nicely?” He teased.

”Tendou I need the—“

He raised his hands in surrender, “I know, I know,” he said getting up, his eyes landing on you for a second, “Definitely a sight I never thought I’d see,” he mused at seeing you so submissive in Ushijima’s arms, before practically singing, “Have fun~” on his way out.

Ushijima kicked the door shut before walking over to his bed and dropping you on it. You were sprawled out on your back, absolutely breathless.

His own breathing was beginning to become more and more labored as your heat was pushing him into a rut.

”You’re going to behave?” He asked.

You nodded, a mewl escaping your lips as you rubbed your thighs together.

”Use your words.”

”Y-yes alpha,” you managed to get out, a glint reaching his eye at the title.

”Good. Now....bare your neck.”

You scrambled to do as he said, and a slight smirk grazed his lips at the sight, a sense of pride, similar to when he won tournaments, washed over him.

You kneeled up on your knees, titling your head to the side for him.

He smiled, cupping the side of your face, before leaning down to mark you.

So yes, Ushijima would put up with your fiery attitude and need to go against everything everyone tells you to do, as long as he’d be the one to get to see you like this.

Because for the first time since he’s known you.

You were finally listening.

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks & hypochondria, adult language, eventual SMUT

Words: 9790

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hi. this is my first real foray into the world of Haikyuu!! & i’m so excited to branch into this fandom! if this is your first time reading my stuff imma warn you, i take things slow, so expect some slow burn. 

this will be a multi-chapter fic with eventual NSFW/18+ only content. i will post warnings for each update. i’ll also link other chapters on this page and any other pages that come up, so keep in mind that there will be edits to links as things progress - i wasn’t planning on this being anything more than a one-shot, but this first exploration of Sakusa’s character turned into a monster & i wanna really hone in on that sweet, sweet build up. 

big, huge shoutout to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito​ for their edits and suggestions. y’all are amazing and i love you both so much, this fic wouldn’t be what it is without the two of you. 

Latibule /lat-i-bule/ noun a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort 

pt. i: an opening 

[ pt. ii: four set ] ||

It’s a quiet coffee shop. 

He likes that about it. He likes it almost as much as the simple fact that he can tell what day of the week it is by the smell of the disinfectant and bleach that’s being used behind the counter. 

There’s a strange comfort to this place’s consistency and Kiyoomi Sakusa likes to linger here, propping his MSBY issued volleyball bag beside his usual table. He’s already placed his coffee order with the cheerful man who guards the cash register, watching as his paper cup is marked with a fresh sharpie and placed on the bartop, beside the elbow of that barista who always attentively turns to wash her hands before making each new order.

He had stumbled upon the shop his senior year of college and he’s haunted it ever since, content to sip on a smooth cortado as he watches over the latest plays from the MSBY games, mapping out his overestimations, his successes, and his flukes in his notebook– carefully lined kanji listing out what worked and what needs some extra practice. The caramel sweet flavor of the ristretto shots always helps to relax him, his broad shoulders lowering, the ache of self-induced tension and overworked muscles easing as his drink cools between his fingers, finally sinking fully into the plush leather seat of his clean chair.

The young woman, he should know your name, but he’s never caught a proper glimpse of your name tag, because you’re always moving, gives him a familiar lifting of smooth lips and places his completed drink on the handoff plane. You know his personal preferences well enough that you’re already moving the caddy of lids and cardboard sleeves forward, so he can select his own from the neatly stacked row. He gives you a cursory nod and his calloused fingertips pull the frothy beverage into his hands, cupping the curved sides and taking a deep drag of air through his masked nose, inhaling the bright smell of fresh coffee.  

And…vines…or is it a tangy pine? 

There’s something else that’s tickling his senses, and he blinks toward you, dark brows knitting together, a misplaced curl of inky hair brushing against his forehead, trying to make sense of the smell. His chin lifts and his head tilts, eyes watching your polished movements as you move onto the next drink in line. It’s definitely got some floral notes, but it’s not cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle or gooseberry–no, it’s got some kind of balmy spice to it. It returns when you move closer and he swears he can taste summer when you shift back. 

Odd. 

When you look up at him again, he’s already stepping away, his running shoes squeaking across the slate tiles, making his way back to his bag and table. The aroma of your perfume is half forgotten when he cracks his laptop open, squirting some hand sanitizer across his chapped palms before he starts to clack his fingertips across the dark keys. He needs to get more lotion; he thinks as the sterile solution cools between his splayed fingers, this weather always dries his skin out.

The next time he comes in he spies you at the back of the shop, jotting something down in a large binder before kneeling behind the counter, returning with a sparkling, grated drain top. The white gleams under the accented lighting and he watches as you thumb at the paint, denoting a splotch of rust that rests under the dip of the metal. You return the cover to the ground and immediately twist to the hand washing sink that rests behind the bar, lathering up some dispensed soap and methodically stroking from the tips of your fingers to your wrists. A steady puff of steam is rising around you as he places his order– 

[ a oat milk smoothie, with an extra scoop of protein powder, chia seeds, turmeric, kale, cucumber, dash of dates for sweetener ] 

and by the time he’s paid and padding toward his usual spot, you’re finishing up, yanking a few disposable paper towels from the overhead dispenser and gingerly drying your damp hands. 

He’s seen you wash your hands plenty of times before, but he finds himself distractedly following your movements this afternoon as he waits for his order and his computer to finish booting up. You catch his obsidian eyes when you turn around and give him a brief smile; a flash of teeth peeking through your lips before you move back to your binder. You jot down a few more notes as you move onto the fridges that sit under the countertops, pulling and prying at the gaskets that line the doors of the whirring chillers, speaking softly to a fellow employee, pointing out the missed stains and chipped flecks of ice that like to hide within the folds of the protective plastic. 

You’re not overbearing in your coaching, keeping your tone even and friendly, focusing on what can be done going forward, rather than lingering on the ‘what if’s’ and ‘why wasn’t’ of the situation.

Practical, efficient, thorough with your work, and careful with your craft. 

Those descriptors float to the forefront of his mind as he takes his smoothie from the barista that’s standing beside you. He lets his gaze hold against your half leaning form, watching the lead tip of your pencil mark over the stark red checklist that you’re working your way down. 

He’s not sure why he’s so focused on you. He’s never thought much about you. You’ve been someone that exists in the background, part of his routine to be sure, but he justifies that your attention to detail is likely the reason why he prefers this shop to the dozens of other coffee houses that litter the main street by the MSBY training facilities and stadium. Your head shifts, and he can tell you can feel his gaze, so he swiftly plucks up his icy cold cup, his nose involuntarily trying to seek out that perfume you’d been wearing the other day. 

Strange. His brow furrows, and he hunches into his sports jacket, walking back to his chair and his glowing computer. He can’t smell it today. Maybe you’re too far away, or perhaps you’d forgotten to put it on before coming in.

Pity. He’d liked it.

“Running a little late today, I see,” your voice snaps him out of his stupor, onyx eyes lifting to rest against your open expression. 

“Kind of,” he replies blandly, his deep cadence muffled by the pull of his mask.

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late! Want me to push your drink to the front of the queue? I’ve got the power to do that, you know,” you tease, tilting your head as a mischievous grin settles over your quirked lips. Kiyoomi blinks impassively down at you and shakes his head. How would he even reply to something like that? You were joking, right? You must be. And if you weren’t, the people who are clustered around the handoff plane would certainly realize that he was being given his drink first, clearly ahead of all of theirs, and they’d probably toss him a few disgruntled stares or mouthy jabs, and likely accuse you of playing favorites. 

Wait. Favorites? 

Does he count as a ‘favorite’ here? He looks away, lips drooping into a pursed line. You’ve always been…nice…but there’s no way he’s a favorite of yours. He’s hardly spoken to you in the year and a half that he’s been coming here. But is that all it takes? Just take up space in the cafe a few times a week and get special treatment? 

No. You must be joking. 

All the same, your jovial tone and that welcoming smile is a little intriguing.    

He shuffles closer to the heat of the espresso machines, easily lifting his head over the lip of the bronze metal, watching you. You’re looking down now, fingers gripping the dark handle of the portafilter, holding it under the buzzing grinder to gather a fine sprinkle of dusky espresso grounds into the waiting basket. Then, you lift a lustery tamp to the heaping mound and press expertly against the delicate remains of the arabica, packing them to an even level before clamping the filter under the display of the machine. When you flick the switch that activates the group head you must sense his stare and lift your eyes to his, eyelashes momentarily fluttering against your cheeks when you spy his unabashed observations of you.

For a second, your hands falter, trapped within the unexpected intensity of his curious gaze, and you pat blindly for the cup that’s sitting to the right of your curled arms, embarrassingly disarmed by his transparent focus. But once your grip wraps around the waiting plastic, it seems to ground you and you let out a huffing chuckle, eyes crinkling up at his half obscured face. 

“I’m only kidding about moving your drink up, don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. Besides, it’s against our policy. First come, first serve and whatnot,” you assure him, halting the stream of water that’s pouring the carefully timed flow of espresso into the clear shot glass that’s waiting against the gleaming metal of the drip tray. 

“You’re busy today,” he notes, jerking his curly head toward the gaggle of college students sprawled across some of the bigger tables, their laughing voices and overly loud conversations easily drowning out the hum of lofi jazz that’s playing from the recessed speakers.

“Ah, yeah, finals are coming up for a lot of us that go to the university. I know my classes are starting to gear up for that last push and sometimes you just need a pick me up and coffee is great for that. We also get a big boost from the smoothies and frappes that we sell in the afternoons, so we get a little packed. Most of our sales happen during the weeks leading up to finals and midterms, uh, anyways, not that you asked for an economic lesson on a small cafe’s profit margins.”

“You’re a student?” he asks, head dipping back, eyes glittering in the lights. Wait. How old are you? Not that he can boast any sort of seniority on that front, he’s only 24 after all, but you just seemed, hmm, more mature? He didn’t picture you as a co-ed. Not that he’s actively picturing you when he’s not here. Well, he is a little recently, but you’ve always felt sort of timeless? Ageless? Is that the right term? You give off an air of confidence. So he’d assumed that you were older than him. Not in a bad way, in fact he’d sort of like it if you were. Why, that is, he’s not willing to look too deeply into, at least, not right now. Maybe later, when he gets back home and can…oh, you’re talking again.

“I’m a graduate student, but not for much longer. I’m finishing up my dissertation this week! Thank God. This semester has been the pits, I’m so ready for a break!” You sound genuinely happy and he can smell that faint aroma of your perfume each time you move. 

“Congratulations,” he murmurs, unsure if you’d heard him since you’re stepping away from the machines that he’s posted himself behind. He watches you set up two steaming drinks, topping them with a lazy swirl of silky, housemade, whipped cream, a crosshatch drizzle of caramel, carefully snapping a set of black plastic lids on top, before calling out the handwritten names and handing them off to their respective owners. Then you’re back, hands already unhooking the portafilter, knocking out the used espresso pucks into the trash and bringing him back to that spicy smell of summer that sits on your skin.

“Haha, it’s a little early for a congratulations. Don’t jinx me, will’ya? But seriously, thanks, that’s nice of you to say,” you continue, flowing easily back into this half-hearted conversation he’s accidentally struck up with you. He winces at that thought and dips his hands deeper into his jacket, hunching his shoulders into a habitual slouch that he instinctively imposes upon himself when he’s out in public.

“You want a lid?” you question over the hiss of the machine, and he lifts his head, finding your bright eyes through the misting remains of the cleared steam wands. 

“No.” His response is clipped, and he gulps down a sudden burst of hazy anxiousness when someone brushes past him, jostling him closer to the low wall that divides the bartop from the cafe floor. He braces himself against the warming top of the machine, his large palm steadying himself, shoulders caving forward, his dark curls falling over his eyes, obscuring his face further. He clenches his jaw, a scowl blooming over his lips. 

His social anxiety isn’t anything new, and it’s likely exacerbated by the bustle of the nearby college students, who seem to be getting louder by the second. The noise is needling under his skin. He starts his carefully ingrained breathing exercises, tugging in a deep stream of air through his flared nostrils. 

But the smell is coffee is too overwhelming and suddenly his ritual doesn’t help much. 

He can feel blood leaving his fingertips and toes, or as his cousin Komori puts it [ the inescapable dread of some imagined ailment, which is making him think that his body is rushing blood from his extremities to his vital organs, his fingertips cold, hands shaking, when in reality ‘you’re just feeling unsure of yourself, man. It’ll be ok in a minute, promise!’ ] 

But in the end, it doesn’t matter what anyone calls it, or how they think he should feel during these heart pounding moments, he just knows that he wants to get out of here, now. 

His agitation must have twisted the top half of his expression because the feel of your warm fingertips against his wrist jerks him out of his head, causing him to suck in an unsteady breath as he lurches backwards, pulling away from your offending touch. 

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t think…I just…” you bite your lip, a look of stark worry passing over your usually open features. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you…are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, teeth clenched, right leg bouncing in place against the tiles. Shit. It’s not like he could have predicted that you’d try to touch him, so you can’t really blame him for his misplaced reaction. Just get him his coffee and he’ll be on his way…

Come on…come on…

“Here you go. Sorry for the wait, Sakusa,” you lift on your tiptoes, the stretch of your legs and arms apparent as you hold his cup out, careful to balance yourself against the lever of the steam wand. He takes the proffered drink and nods his thanks at you, his gaze dark. The gesture might be a little strained, and he knows you likely think he’s some kinda freak at this point, but he’s glad to see your customary smile before he turns, shouldering his way out the door and into the promise of open air.  

“Stop being so secretive about this place. It’s not like you can’t search for it online, Omi Omi. I saw you come in with the logo of their shop last week and I wanna try it out. Don’t cha’ gimme that look, I deserve to have good coffee too! And if it’s close by you can’t just keep it to yourself! Think about the rest of us, huh? Besides, I think they’d like to see something other than yer’ prickly face every once in a while.” Golden haired Atsumu Miya, his fellow teammate and setter for the MSBY Black Jackals, has been walking beside him for five blocks, jabbering on about the bland offerings of the big box coffee chains that surround their home gym, and how he hasn’t had a good cup of coffee in days. Tch, he’d said months originally, but that was an obvious lie. After all, Kiyoomi pointed out, slipping his mask on before the two stepped into the strong midday sun, he’d come in with an iced coffee two days ago, proclaiming to the whole team it was the best he’d ever had, bar none. 

“It’s a small shop,” Kiyoomi glumly elaborates, his dark hair soaking up the rays of sunlight as they crossed the bustling pedestrian walkway. “I think it’s run by an American. The staff speaks English, besides Japanese. There’s one barista in particular, a young woman, she has–”

“English? Oh, hell yeah! I can practice! This is perfect! They got any specialty drinks? I couldn’t see any from the menu that they had online, but I told ‘Samu I’d send him a picture of the place.”

Hmph, what’s the use of bothering to hold a conversation with this guy, Kiyoomi thinks, obsidian eyes narrowing as his brows furrow over his scrunched face, watching Atsumu chatter on about the vague sampling that he’d seen on their website. He’s not listening, anyway.

The coffee shop bell dings as the two of them step into the space, greeted by a waft of freshly ground coffee and the sharp tang of disinfectant. “Ahhh,” Atsumu says, propping his hands on his trim hips and fixing Kiyoomi with a pointed look, “totally see why you like the place. It smells like they have a freaking bleach, whaddya call those, ah, an air freshener! Yeah, smells like they have an ‘eu de bleach’ wall plug in.” 

“It’s clean,” Kiyoomi affirms, his own hands sliding into his pockets, fingers wrapping around his wallet as he steps into the line. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all,” Atsumu grins, resting an arm on Kiyoomi’s shoulder as he glances over the chalkboard menu. “Just can tell that must be why you like this place so much. Bet you huff cleaner as soon as you get home.. Speaking of, I still need to see your new apartment, heard you let Ushijima come by and that’s not fair at all. Kinda– ow! Omi, ya’ friggin ass!” 

Kiyoomi jerked his arm upwards as he stepped toward the register and the abrupt displacement sent Atsumu’s hand flying up, managing to perfectly strike himself on his nose as he attempted to counterbalance his sudden shift in momentum. 

“HA-ah, ahem, I mean…hello! Nice to see you again, sir!” the barista calls out, poorly concealing his mirth at Atsumu’s fumbling behind a gloved hand. Kiyoomi nods curtly, his order on the tip of his lips, but before he can utter anything Atsumu is beside him again, leaning against the well lit pastry case and peering over his options critically.

“Hmm, ya’ got any of those little madeline cakes? They’re vanilla, kinda look like a shell? Saw em’ on yer’ website.” 

The barista gives Atsumu a broad grin and twists to talk with someone who’s below the arched dome of the food case, quietly asking a few questions before looking back at the blonde man. “Yeah, we do! We’re actually just putting them out, my manager is checking for the–”

Atsumu steps impossibly closer to the gleaming glass and pops his head over the dome, peering down at whoever is restocking the sweets. “Oh! Hey there!” he chirps, lowering his chin, his face pulling into an exaggerated, cocky smirk. “Ya’ know what I mean, right? It’s kinda like a cake, but it’s small, like a cookie. It’s French. No, it’s not that. Maybe on the next tray? What? I can’t hear ya’. It’s smaller. I can step around, see if–”

A familiar voice pipes up before Atsumu can move closer and Kiyoomi turns, ears instantly pricking up at the sound of your reply. “I said, I know what a madeline is, sir. I’m rearranging and organizing my cart at the moment and, if you’d like, you can order your drinks first. I’ll have the madeline waiting for you on the other side of the bar.”

“Lemme just see one,” Atsumu grins, resting his hands against the glass. Kiyoomi’s lips curl at the sight, watching Atsumu’s hands leave lingering prints behind. Great, now they’ll need to clean and re-polish the display. Besides, you’d said you had them. Why keep pushing the issue? Ugh. If he wasn’t regretting his decision to show his fellow teammate the shop before, he certainly is now. 

“Just wanna make sure we’re on the same page, is all. Ya’ might give me something else by mistake and that’s a waste of time for both of us!” Atsumu’s smile broadens, a shadowed look falling over his angular features. 

You hop up from your crouched position, a wrapped package with bright blue lettering that clearly says [ French Vanilla Madeline ] on the side, clutched between your fingers. “Oh no, I get it,” you begin, mimicking Atsumu’s cheshire grin with startling accuracy. “You just want to double check! I mean, the words on the packaging do say: Madeline. So unless you mean something else, something that’s not called ‘A French vanilla madeline, made with real vanilla extract and buttery goodness,’ I think we’ve got you covered.”

Your voice is saccharine sweet, lilting over the words, a well-practiced smile lifting your lips. You’re still clearly mirroring the one Atsumu is giving you. It’s the snappiest your tone has ever been, and the fact that it’s being used against his annoying teammate is priceless. Suddenly, he can’t help the laugh that’s already snickering its way past his mask. 

“Oi!” Atsumu cries, pushing himself off the case at last, his teeth gritted at Kiyoomi’s obvious amusement. “I just wanted to check! And you, manager lady, don’t be so mean!”

“Pfft, manager lady? It’s (Y/N). And me? Mean? I was not mean, I told you that we had them! I just needed to FIFO some of the other pastries first,” you defend, a surprised exhale falling from your lips. 

“FIFO? What is that? Don’t use that food jargon on me! I get that enough from my brother. He does that crap all the time, like it’s some sorta secret lingo. ‘Don’t do that ‘Tsumu, gotta make sure it’s in date’. ‘Don’t come on the line!’ ‘Gotta wear a hat or a hair net if yer’ gonna be back here!’ ‘Don’t mislabel the rice!’ On and on. What’s with you food people? So uptight. Look, I just wanted to try one. Yer’ reviews said they were good! Here, tell you what, give me two. Don’t laugh! Omi, help! She’s picking on me!”

“Stop it, you’re making a scene. Any other inane questions? Or anything else you’d like to order, because I’m certainly not buying any of this for you,” Kiyoomi replies, sneaking a glance at your bemused expression. You catch his eye and give him a quick wink and he finds that his smile stays with him long after he, and a chastened and satiated Atsumu have left the warmth of the coffee shop.

“Mmm, these are pretty good,” Atsumu mumbles between bites of his madeline. “Ya’ want some?”

He stops by after his evening practice, when the sun has long since fallen past the horizon of the city, but as soon as he rounds the corner he regrets his decision.

The cafe is brimming with people. They’re everywhere; outside, they are clustered on the pavement, sitting on the collection of iron wrought chairs, and gathered in groups. Inside, most are sprawled close to the hand off plane, or draped over the couches and tables. They appear to be animated, with computer screens and voices bright, too bright. His usual spot is taken, and he’s already made up his mind to keep walking on but somehow, somehow, he catches your eye. 

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink [ a doppio con panna with bitter lungo shots, poured affogato ] a pleased smile on your soft lips. 

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you. 

“Hey! Glad I could catch you. Wanted to tell you good luck on your upcoming game! I think I saw on the news that it’s tomorrow? Right?”

“Yes, we’re playing Azuma Pharmacy. They have a good starting lineup. It’s entirely possible that we’ll lose.”

“Jeez,” you exhale, cocking your head at his serious expression. “Kind of a pessimist, aren’t you?”

“I’m a realist. I’m perfectly prepared to beat them, but things always play out differently on the court, no matter what your personal expectations are.” 

You give him another smile. This one comes quickly, and it’s bigger than any of the others, the pull of it lighting up your face. It’s different, and he can tell that the way you’re looking at him has shifted; that you’ve liked this answer. He’s not sure why, it’s the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Good point. Well, win or lose, you’ve got my luck! I better get back inside. Your drink is on me by the way, for the other day…when I touched your hand…well, I’m sure you remember. Anyway, see you, Sakusa!”

He watches you slip past the packed lines of students, already rolling up your sleeves so you can wash your hands. Once you’re behind the espresso machine you’re hidden by the burnished copper and he walks on, shouldering his MSBY bag higher, lifting his coffee to his lips. It’s got a rich flavor, well balanced and expertly poured. Once again, he’s reminded that you’re good at what you do and, despite the balmy heat of early spring, that makes his fingers tingle and his skin break out in gooseflesh.

Later, when he’s falling asleep, he keeps seeing your eyes. Watching as your colored irises come alive in the moonlight, hopeful, shining, and wholly focused on him.

At practice, Atsumu insists on completing his post workout stretching next to him. He’s used to Kiyoomi’s sullen silences and barbed retorts, content to chatter however he pleases, flitting from topic to topic as he eases into his cool down routine. 

“I need to go back to that coffee shop. Ya’ been back lately?”

“No,” Kiyoomi lies, brushing a stubborn wave of curls out of his sweaty face. 

“Too bad. Maybe after Friday’s practice? That girl really knew her stuff. Made some great coffee, too. What was her name? Ah, that’s right, (Y/N). She’s cute, what’s her story?” 

Something twinges against Kiyoomi’s rib cage at the word ‘cute.’ Hmm, that’s not normal. He flips to his left side, facing away from Atsumu’s greedy eyes and leering smiles. 

“How long has she worked there?”

“Not sure,” Kiyoomi replies, flattening his palm against the cool flooring of the gym. “At least a year, maybe more.”

“That other barista said she was a manager. She’s not one of the owners, is she?”

“Dunno.”

“Is she a student? Kinda strange to see an American working in Japan, and she’s definitely an American. She’s good with the Japanese, but her accent is off.”

“Your accent is off, so I’m not sure what your point is. I can understand her, and I can’t say the same for you.”

“Jackass!” Atsumu snaps, flopping up from his splayed stretch to butterfly his muscled legs. “It’s called a regional accent, and it’s perfectly normal. Ya’ got one too, city boy!”

“See? No one says things like that. You sound like a cartoon character. Sometimes I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Yer’ full of it!”

“Hmph,” Kiyoomi hums, curling himself onto his haunches and flattening the tops of his hands against the floor. The satisfying crunch of his wrists as his fingers settle makes Atsumu visibly shudder and Kiyoomi flashes him a quick smirk of his own, hoping it will spook his stretching companion enough that he’ll leave him be. He prefers to do his cool down in silence. 

“She do anything else? Other than diligently slaving over yer’ coffee, that is?”

Tch. It seems that luck isn’t with him today. “She said she’s a graduate student.”

“Oooh, what’s she studyin’?”

“Not sure.”

“Yer’ about as fun to talk to as a stack of bricks, ya’ know? Bet if I’d asked you what her name was the other day all you’d say was, ‘I use’ta just call her barista: first name: cute, last name: girl.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t reply. Something about these questions is bothering him. He doesn’t like that he can’t answer them properly– it’s frustrating, really. All he can honestly tell Atsumu is that you’re neat and efficient, that you have a smile that he can’t quite shake out of his head, a perfume that he wishes he could place, and that, to date, you’ve given him one free coffee. The fact that he knows that you’re a graduate student is sheer luck, information that you’d happened to share with him, not that he’d asked you about. He uncoils his hands and flips them over, letting his eyes rest against his reddened palms. Oh, and you’d touched his wrist once and the sheer metaphysical weight of that contact had nearly sent him stumbling backwards. 

It’s stupid; he’s stupid. 

It’s not hard to talk with people. It’s just…he knows he’s not good at it. Besides, when would he practice? He’s surrounded by extroverts; extreme extroverts. Extroverts who defy all sense and who usually can’t be silenced unless they’re tucked into a deep sleep, and even then it’s doubtful. Both Hinata and Bokuto have demonstrated that they can, and will, talk in their sleep. Still, it’s frustrating to find himself boxed into a corner, completely at a loss and unaware of the most cursory, mundane, simple, facts about you. For almost two years, he’s seen you at least twice a week, shouldn’t he know more? Why doesn’t he know more?

“Why not give her a ticket to a game?”

Atsumu’s question makes him lift his head, abandoning his musings as he lets the weight of that suggestion sink in. The setter is crinkling his eyes at him now, that all knowing smirk back on his lips, umber eyes hooded, mischievous. “The front office can do that, ya’ know? We’ve got extras. They keep em’ for that purpose. Just say she’s a special guest, or a potential sponsor. They ain’t gonna question you.” 

Kiyoomi looks away, crossing his legs and leaning to his right side, feigning disinterest as Atsumu tells him who he can speak with, where he can see the upcoming calendar, and what seats might be open. It’s a good idea, a great idea, and he can’t help but loathe that Atsumu thought of it first.

The ticket is good for a first row balcony seat.

It’s situated in the best spot. He’d picked it out himself, carefully looking over the colored diagram of the stadium and belaboring the proximity of the sight-lines, wanting to let you have a bird’s eye view of the court. Where would he like to sit, if he could watch a game? What works? What doesn’t? Too high and you can’t catch the movement of the ball. Too low and you can’t see the players. Too far to the right or left and you can’t see the breadth of the court. It’s tricky, and he’s cautious with his selection. He can’t help it. 

Kiyoomi only considers you not even liking the sport when he’s placing his order, watching as you carefully tuck his empty cup down on the polished steel of the bar. Shit.

The cafe is quiet. The students are gone, and when the register barista goes to the backroom it’s only him and you in the well lit space. The click of the burr grinder almost makes him jump, and he compromises with his nerves by shifting toward his usual table, resting his bag in the chair and taking in a deep breath. 

The gentle press of the tamp is audible over the low beats of the music and he hears you knock the side of the portafilter, no doubt leveling off the crushed arabica before you hook the device under the grouphead. Seconds later he sees you flip the switch for his shots, already grooming his heated, foaming, oat milk in the short pitcher, popping the liquid free of any errant bubbles. You’re gentle with this part, and he’s always loved to watch you pour his cortado, liking the raise of your arm and the flick of your wrist as you let the creamy milk flow into the paper cup, swirling a rosetta design through the ochre of the waiting espresso. 

Usually, this well-oiled process of yours calms him, but today he feels fidgety and his head is buzzing. The sooner you finish the drink, the sooner he’ll have to talk to you. Shit, shit. When you move the dark lids forward, his hand feels like it’s heating around the slick paper of the ticket, making it clammy and tacky. He bites his lip and removes his hand from his jacket, wiping his palm against his dark jeans. 

You’re already looking up at him, nodding toward the fragrant cup that’s waiting at the edge of the handoff plane. Automatically, he lurches forward, completely in-sync with his familiar routine. The question [ would you like a ticket to one of my games? ] is resting on the tip of his tongue and his fingers are hovering beside his cup. He can see that they’re shaking and that sight doesn’t ease him. Then you ask him something and he feels everything skitter to a halt. Why is this happening? It’s just a ticket, it’s just a game. 

Wait. You asked him something? 

He does his best to ignore the humming of anxious tension that’s filtering down his fingertips and lifts his bowed head. “What?” he mumbles, lips unsticking at last.

“Just asked how your game went the other day. I tried to record it but my stupid cable box isn’t working. I need to try and see you guys, I know I’ve probably said that before, but it’s pretty pathetic of me to not catch one game when the stadium is only two miles away. Plus, I know y’all are a great team! Heard you made the playoffs last year, that’s so awesome!”

It’s a perfect segway. 

But he feels like he’s rooted to the spot, like his tongue is trapped against the roof of his mouth, and his hands are too heavy to move, content to shake beside his cooling drink as he whittles his time away, too filled with the what if’s to do anything about the here and now. He’s going down a mental checklist, mulling over each possibility, cautiously tampering with that heady rush of excitement that’s threatening to bubble out of his masked lips. Shit. 

He’s gotta check his vitamin intake, maybe he’s low on omega 3s? The team has a general practitioner on standby. He really should call him after this, maybe run by his office before the next practice. 

Something’s off with him.

Wait, that worked. 

That shift in his whirring thoughts broke him out of that suspended state and then, before he completely fucks this up, the ticket is down against the counter and he’s muttering something about unlimited uses, that if you can’t make it now, then you can always switch the date, or add someone on, if you have a [ boy ] friend you want to take; the next game works best with the seat that’s listed, he’s checked. He knows it’s open. Again, zero pressure and no worries if you can’t make it. See you around.

You might have responded, you might have smiled, fuck, you might have laughed at him. He’s not sure.

All he knows is that as soon as he is out of the shop he’s calling the team’s gp and confirming an appointment for tomorrow morning. It’s not natural for his heart to stutter and thump like that. It could be an arrhythmia. 

It could be any number of things. 

He hasn’t felt this nervous about a game in years. Sure, it’s a good team, and they have four players that are of his generation, most of them powerful outside hitters that will probably give the Jackals a good run for their money, but they’re not insurmountable. They can beat VC Kanagawa; they’ll have to if they want to advance further in the lineup for the playoffs. 

It’s just…

He keeps looking for that seat. Your seat. He’d gotten to the stadium early; opting to forgo the first team meeting, saying he needed to practice his wall drills, work on his spin, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is something that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. At least, not before a game. He steadies himself, reiterating that it’s not practical or helpful for him to worry about things like that. 

Nevertheless, he’s pinned the seat in his mind. He studied it as the lights shuddered on, the maintenance staff flashing him bewildered looks as he stepped into the empty brightness of the court. He’d found it again during the pre-game warmup, onyx eyes committing the location to memory, searching for the little details that he could watch for if he wanted to find it again, later, when the arena was packed with thousands of eyes and waving signs.

As they open the main doors and the seats fill up, he’s still looking at the seat.

“Whatcha looking at?” Hinata asks, his burst of orange hair already slicked with sweat, vivid eyes sharp. 

“Nothing.”

The results of Kiyoomi’s physical had shown no outliers, no cause for worry or concern. Everything was fine. He should just get a little extra potassium in, maybe eat a few more bananas in the morning, or after his practices. He’d been a little miffed when he opened the manilla folder, eyes hunting for abnormalities, for a reason, an explanation. If nothing is wrong, then why does he feel like he’s tingling with adrenaline all the time? It makes him light-headed, sluggish, and that’s detrimental to his playability, to his value to his team. 

He looks away from Hinata and paces past Atsumu’s arched eyebrow, ignoring the implications of that wicked grin that’s resting on the setter’s quirked lips. It’s fine; he’s fine. His eyes look up to the balcony again. He really shouldn’t be doing that, he reminds himself. It’s a distraction, and he doesn’t–

Oh. There you are.

He can’t make out details, not from this distance, and he suddenly feels self-conscious about his face. There’s no mask. He doesn’t wear it when he plays, and this will be the first time you’ve seen him without it. Suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t cared so much about the visibility of the court. Why did he plant you so far away? If he can’t see you, then there’s no way you’ll be able to tell which one he is either…oh…wait…his name is on the back of his jersey and they’ll announce his number. Nevermind. 

The referee calls for the teams to line up and he diligently follows his teammates, standing in his usual spot, ignoring the dull thump of his heart as it beats a ragged tattoo under his ribs. 

They won. 

They won, and he’d racked up a whopping 23 points for himself, a personal milestone. It’ll be something that will go down on his athletic record, that the local and national news reports will chatter about, that he can feel proud of. He’s glad; you always show him your best, so it’s only fair he does the same for you too.

He’d peeked up at your seat during each time out, each break, every time the momentum shifted, and before he hit every serve. You looked like you had your feet propped up, resting against the metal barrier of the balcony, and he could see that your arms were wrapped around your knees. You were paying attention, and that knowledge made his lungs swell and his pulse quicken. 

Now, after he’s finished toweling some of the clinging sweat from his brow and the matted droop of his obsidian curls, he twists back, facing your seat, but you’re not there. An empty curve of plastic greets him and his heavy brows furrow, his fingers dropping the towel onto the bench as they curl up into his palms. 

Did you leave? It would make sense, he supposes. The game is over. He just thought you might come down. Might want to talk. Not that he’d have much to say. He never does. Stupid; what would he talk with you about? See the game? Yeah, duh. 

The distant voice of MSBY’s public relations manager is calling for him. He’ll worry about it [ you ] later, he thinks, he’s still got a job to do.

During his interview he can hear Atsumu’s voice. It’s annoying. While the setter doesn’t attempt to tone himself down, he rarely talks that loudly. Kiyoomi glances over at his straight back, watching as his hand cups against the back of his golden head, an infectious laugh bursting from his turned lips. Strange. It’s not like him to chat with someone for that long, not when he’s got his own post-game interviews to conduct. He usually– 

Ah, it’s you. 

Suddenly, questions like: [ how does it feel to be considered for the 2025 Japanese Olympic team? ] don’t matter. His head is half cocked now, dark eyes following the two of you, his comments to the national reporter falling into clipped monosyllables. This is unprofessional; he should focus on the matter at hand, it’s not like him to be distracted. 

He’s been thinking about that a lot lately. That so many things are suddenly not like him. 

When you push playfully at Atsumu’s shoulder, he lapses into a stormy silence, nails biting into his clenched palms, pressing half moons into his calloused skin. After answering one more question: [ something about his future plans - how’s he supposed to know? That depends on trades, on opportunities. And right now he’s not in the correct frame of mind to answer honestly, not when he can see that you’re right there ] he bows to the smiling face of the reporter, formally concluding his participation in the interview. He knows it’s abrupt; he knows he’ll likely get an earful from the MSBY PR director, from his coach, and from himself, when the full weight of his uncharacteristic rashness hits him, but right now he doesn’t care.

His feet feel like lead and the steps that he’s taking shudder against the gym’s polished flooring. He’s usually smoother than this, more collected, but can’t will himself to stop lurching forward. He tucks his hands into the darkness of his team jacket, coiling his numb fingers into tight balls, and hunches his shoulders. He likely looks like thunder and this suspicion is confirmed when a ball boy scuttles out of his path, eyes wide, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care. 

Atsumu hasn’t noticed his approach, but you do, and that shy wave and familiar smile makes his breath catch in his throat. Damn it. What’s going on with him? 

Atsumu notices your wandering attention and turns, following your gaze. Once he spots Kiyoomi, he gives him a cheeky smirk, dipping his chin, lazily fixing his amber eyes on Kiyoomi’s arched figure. “Look who caaame!” he calls, lacing his tone with poorly concealed glee. “She said you gave her a ticket. What a great, absolutely original, idea! And you had your record breaking scoring streak today too! Hey! Maybe she’s good luck! Watch out (Y/N), pretty soon we’ll be hooking you up with a personal mascot job if ya’ can light such a fire under our stoic hitter’s ass. Must be something special in that coffee yer’ serving him.”

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at Atsumu’s blatant needling and the setter chuckles, flipping his focus back to you, sensing the rising agitation that is rolling off of Kiyoomi in waves now. “Well, sure was good to see ya’ again! Talk to me next time, huh? I’ll get you a boxed seat. It’s much better than those nosebleeds in the balconies.”

You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips, and make a show of rolling your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, you know? And what boxed seats? Feels like I’d see them if you had them,” you tease, earning yourself a last laugh and Atsumu’s back, a friendly hand waving a last goodbye as he finally strides toward the waiting cameras. Kiyoomi watches him go, his shoulders tense, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. Is Atsumu doing this on purpose? 

He almost snaps a retort at his retreating figure, but the sound of your voice immediately snatches his attention toward you. His dark gaze meets yours and the look in your eyes makes his palms feel itchy and his feet scuff mindlessly against the floor.

“This is gonna sound so dumb, but it’s been on my mind since I got here…”

Kiyoomi’s fingers twist in his pockets, coiling over each digit, and his pulse feels like it’s speeding up again. “What?”

“It’s just…well, you look so much younger without the mask,” you let out a small laugh and duck your head, teeth pulling at your lower lip as you face away from his widening eyes. 

“Is that bad?”

“No! You look good! Uh, I mean, not that you didn’t…I just wasn’t sure…not that I’d thought about it…a lot…uh, I…yeah, I’m…No, it’s not bad!” You press your hands against your mouth, steepling your fingers under your nose and fix him with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I know you’ve got things to do, but Miya was right about one thing, you had a great game. I had a lot of fun and it was so nice of you to get me that ticket, and well…”

You pause, lowering your hands to yank your purse forward, fingers digging into the leather before you right yourself once more, returning with a small, zipped bag, and a plastic card that’s balancing atop the metal teeth. “It’s a…well…I sorta tried to think of some things that you might like. To say thanks! It’s nothing fancy. A nail filing kit, because I read that volleyball guys like to keep their hands in tiptop shape, one of those portable ball pumps and some masks. 

The masks are from a great company, back home, er, in the states. Well, at least I like them, they’re super durable. And the card, uh, ha, um, the card is to the cafe. I know it’s not super original, but I didn’t know if you liked any other places. And I didn’t wanna assume or — Haha, oh God, I am talking your ear off. Just…here! Take this from me so I can get my foot outta my mouth, okay?”

You press the bag forward and before he can tell you he doesn’t accept gifts from fans, his hands are already out of the safety of his pockets, firmly wrapping around your offering. “Thank you,” he bows. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure how.

He didn’t mean to come by the cafe. 

He thought he’d go for a quick run before practice, maybe loop the block, or jog toward the university. None of these things are close to the cafe, but apparently his feet had other ideas. The shop bell rings when he steps inside, wiping some hand sanitizer against his heated palms, onyx eyes alert, already searching for you. 

A male barista [ is it Kane? ] greets him and before he can stop himself, he’s asking if you’re there. “Oh, (Y/N)? Nah, she’s off today. But I can make your cortado, you get almond milk, right?”

“Oat,” Kiyoomi replies, voice muffled by his mask. Damn. Why did he come here? He didn’t mean to and now it’s looking like it was a wasted trip. A useless instinct. He’d wanted to thank you properly for your gift, which had been on his mind a lot the past few days. Perhaps that’s why he felt so compelled to jog the extra mile, why he can’t seem to keep away, why he keeps looking for you as he waits, even though he knows you’re not here. 

Maybe he can text you his thanks. That would make all of this easier. Oh, wait, does he even have your number? He pulls his phone out of his pocket and examines his contact list, searching for you. No, nothing under your name. Maybe he put it under something else? [ barista? cafe? ] Again, there’s nothing. Damn. Why didn’t he ask at the game? Or when he gave you the ticket?

When he picks up his drink and paces back into the sunshine, he’s still kicking himself that he hasn’t asked for your number yet. It would have made things so much simpler, he reasons, sipping at his coffee; now he’ll have to come back. 

But days pass, and he hasn’t returned. 

There’s just too much going on. Too many team meetings and late practices. Too much preparation. The pace of his schedule has never bothered him before, but now he keeps hoping for some kind of reprieve. 

The other morning Atsumu strode into a meeting with a cup from your cafe, proudly flaunting the familiar label. It made Kiyoomi’s blood boil [ did he see you? talk with you? Did he get to see that addictively pleasing smile of yours? ] and later that afternoon he experienced his first scolding. 

“What’s going on, Omi? Five missed digs? This isn’t like you. You look like your head is in the clouds. Come on, get it together. Big game in five days.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” It’s all he can say. 

When he’s heading toward the team showers, he catches sight of Atsumu’s knowing leer and he grits his teeth, ignoring the huffed snicker and scoffing head shake that the setter sends his way. 

Finally, two days later, he’s got some free time. There are other errands he needs to run, things he should do, but the only thing he can think about is you. 

He’s walking up from a side street, one he rarely takes, when, at long last, he catches sight of you. You must be on a break. You’re sitting at a bench, facing a small, but well laid flower bed, flipping the pages of your open book languidly as you read under the cool shade of a gnarled tree. 

He’s glad he’s wearing the mask that you gifted him. 

You’d said that they were durable, and their quality had genuinely impressed him. When he got home, after the game, he slipped them out of their individual plastic cases, fingering the thick, well made materials before washing one. He’d left the others in their containers. He’ll use them, eventually, but not right now. He wants to savor them. He wants them to last.  

Kiyoomi is almost to your side when you look up and he bites against his lower lip as soon as you give him that friendly smile of yours, already closing your book and standing, waiting for him to step closer. He comes to a stop in front of you, peering down at you through his dark lashes. 

You always smell so nice, he thinks, unconsciously shifting closer, seeking more. You must have showered before coming into your shift because the crisp scent of peppermint and gentle lavender makes his nostrils flare hungrily under his mask. 

“Hey there!” you begin, tucking your book into your arms. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

“Fine. I have practice later. I came by the other day. I…” he lapses into frustrated silence, dark brows falling, letting his hands grip at the material of his jacket. Why is this so hard? You, all the others on his team, Motoya [ hell, even the notoriously impassive Wakatoshi has come out of his shell over the years ] can slip into a conversation. Damn it, how can everyone else make this look so easy? 

“Saw you’re playing the Adlers soon. They’re the team the Jackals have a sorta rivalry with, right?”

He blinks down at you and lets out a shallow exhale. There you go again. You’re giving him a life raft, a conversation he can fall into, something he enjoys talking about. He remembers his stilted conversation with Atsumu, the one where he did not know about any of the basic things, the obvious things, the things that made you, you. It’s nice that you’re looking out for him, that you’re helping him along, but he doesn’t want to talk about volleyball, not right now.

“We do. How did your finals go? You said you had a dissertation?”

“Oh!” you blurt, your eyes widening, but you’re clearly pleased, even a little excited that he’s asked. “You remembered! Finished it up last week. Now I just need to knock out my revisions and I’ll either go back to committee, or they’ll approve it! I’m hoping they approve it. I’m sick of looking at it, haha.” Your fingers tap against your book and you duck your head, a quick smile passing over your smooth lips. “Uh, did you want to come in for a coffee? Not trying to hold you up, if you’ve got practice to go to.”

“I was the one who came over.” He sounds a little harsh, he thinks, nose wrinkling under his mask. He’s never worried about being blunt, but that doesn’t work here. He doesn’t want to be, not with you. “I mean, I wanted…wanted to say thanks, for the masks and the other things. I like them.” He points to his covered face and you let out a chuckle, gleaming eyes crinkling as you look up at him. Damn, you’re pretty. How has he not noticed that before? He wants to see you laugh again, he’s just not sure how to go about it. Does he even know any jokes? Shit.

“Awe, I’m glad you like them! Speaking of, Atsumu came by a few days ago, I guess you must have worn one around him because he was trying to sniff out if I’d given them to you. He’s a funny guy, but I cannot get a good read on him. It’s almost like he’s doing stuff on purpose, but he’s never blatantly obvious about it. The way he was talking, I was kinda worried he was trying to play a prank on you. Does he like to get under your skin or something? He’s–”

Kiyoomi’s not thinking when he leans down. He’s been doing that a lot lately, not thinking. It makes his skin prickle. Or is that the smell of peppermint on your clean neck, the fragrant lavender in your hair? The kiss is soft; more of a press of his lips than a real caress. But it’s nice, and he actually likes being this close to you, but something feels off and, ah, damn it. 

His dark brows knit together, furrowing his forehead, when he realizes what he’s done. He didn’t take off his mask. How stupid. But that shaky gasp of air that you let out when he pulls away, and the following upward lift of your body, your lips chasing his, clearly wanting him to come back, oh that’s so worth it, mask or not.

Your eyes are the first thing he sees when he looks back down, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect. They’re bright, vibrant, and rich with an excitement that makes his toes curl. 

The smell of lavender and peppermint, of you, is almost overwhelming, and yet somehow it’s all together, not enough. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. 

What is there to say? 

That one, half-formed, touch said it all. It expressed every frustration that he’s felt over the last few weeks, every faded memory of your voice, of your playful smiles, of those hesitant conversations you’ve helped him through. It’s all there, sitting quietly between the two of you, shimmering in the sunlight as you take a step closer and his hands finally fall out of his pockets, waiting, hoping for yours. 

“(Y/N)! Break’s over! Coffee’s not gonna brew itself!” 

The distant voice of your coworker shatters the euphoria and you tense, pulling away, your head turning toward the barked command as you call out your reply. Kiyoomi huffs out an impatient breath. He wanted to try that again. Do it right this time. How pathetic is he? Kissing you through a mask? But his annoyance dies when you face him again, slipping your hand tentatively into his. 

His digits fall limply around yours and he can’t help but marvel at the softness of you. One of his thumbs lifts and he traces the skin along your knuckles, unsure if he’s even breathing anymore. “Come on,” you say, looking down at his touch before lacing your fingers through his, showing him how to hold you. “I’ll make your coffee.” 

You’re walking forward and he has the inane urge to snatch you back, wanting to see how the rest of you feels, wanting to know how you’ll fit into his arms, but he distracts himself by following you. There’s a budding warmth that’s spreading from his palm, where your hand rests inside his, to his chest. It feels like a low burning fire is coursing along his veins and his heartbeat thuds out of rhythm, but for once he doesn’t care. 

In fact, he thinks he likes it.

He sits in the cafe for too long, his coffee cold, the cup almost empty. But before he leaves [ already so, so late for practice ] he gets your number. 

He taps the unfamiliar digits carefully into his device and you watch from the counter, your chin propped in your hand, a gentle smile kissing against your palm. Then he stands, pausing beside you and you run your index finger down his arm, lingering your touch beside his wrist, making him shiver in the warm sunlight, a pleased grin hidden behind his mask.

notes: this man has what, 10 pages of interaction? idk why and idk how, but he is stuck in my brain - like, seriously send help, i think i’m in love. 

[jungshookz]

ok so like y/n hanging out with her friends at an ice cream shop and super cute employee kook so happens to make y/n very nervous

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook (birthday boy!!!) x reader

➺ genre; marshmallow fluff level fluffy!!!! if u have a sweet tooth then this drabble is for you, jimin and taehyung are nightmare friends and i don’t know why u insist on hanging out with them all the time, *clown nose honk* 

➺ wordcount: 3.5k

➺ what to expect;  “i’ve been giving you free ice cream for the past four months, y/n. you really didn’t think, at any point, that i liked you like that?”

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

“oh, god. i think you’re going to have to roll me into the car.” you groan as you place a hand over your bloated stomach, “also, i’m… pretty sure i’m nine months pregnant.”  

whoever came up with the whole ‘all you can eat buffet!’ concept must’ve been a psychopath because you feel like if you take another step you’re going to projectile vomit all the way across town

you let out a huff as you bend down and place your hands on your knees

jesus

you’re going to be siCK

“no one asked you to eat like seven servings of mac n’ cheese balls.” jimin raises a brow before rubbing your back in comforting circles

“i’m sorry, do you not hear yourself?” you twist your head before looking at him as if he just sprouted two heads on each shoulder, “mac n’ cheese balls. deep-fried balls of macaroni and cheese. all you can eat deep-fried balls of macaroni and cheese. with a tangy chipotle-ranch dip on the side!”  

“alright, i get it.” he snorts before rolling his eyes, “i’m guessing this means you’re not in the mood for dessert anymore?”

you immediately stand up straight before giving your stomach a couple of pats, “where are we going for dessert??”

you’re ALWAYS in the mood for dessert

your first stomach might be full of food but your second stomach is completely empty

the monster inside your second stomach demands something sweet!

“well, scoops is right across the street. i heard the ice cream there is pretty good!” taehyung chirps before pointing at the ice cream place

you immediately feel your heart fall out of your ass

you usually never say no to ice cream but uh

there’s one reason why you’d prefer to go someplace else

jimin glances back when he notices you’re not following them to cross the street

he raises a brow before tilting his head, “if you actually need to puke, the garbage bin is right the-“

“i’m fine, i just-“ your voice cracks and you clear your throat quickly, “why do we have to go for ice cream?? there’s a frozen yogurt place a couple blocks away… and frozen yogurt is just as good!”

jimin and taehyung exchange glances before the two of them look back at you

“weren’t you the one who said that frozen yogurt was just a sad, watered-down version of ice cream and that the day you asked to go for frozen yogurt was the day we should execute you via cruel, unusual punishment?”

“yeah, and the cruel, unusual punishment was to force you to eat frozen yogurt?”

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek

damnit

they’re right

you friggin’ hate frozen yogurt

“ooh, check it out!” jimin gasps, his eyes lighting up, “strawberry-rhubarb pie. i wonder how they turned a pie into an ice cream flavour!”

“uh-huh, yeah…” you mutter absentmindedly, eyes flitting around behind the large counter

okay

okay!

this is fine

everything is fine

maybe today is his day off something!  

hopEfully today is his day off because you are literally about to pop a button on your jeans and the last person who you’d want to have witness that would be-

“good evening, folks!” you practically jump out of your skin and you instinctively duck behind taehyung when he seems to pop out of thin air

he smiles brightly as he props his arms up on the top of the display case, “just give me a holler whenever you’re ready.”

okay

we should probably rewind a little bit

‘he’ would be… well, the person you’re currently hiding from.  

you don’t know much about him besides the fact that his name is jungkook (the name tags here are comically large, by the way. it’s actually a little ridiculous. it’s like the employees think all the customers are blind and that’s why they made their name tags the size of a baby’s head.) and every time you come here he gives you extra hot fudge on your ice cream and also he’s very veRY cute

you usually come here after you finish submitting an essay or doing a live presentation as a way to reward yourself

because why live life if you’re not going to treat yourself every now and again??

you started this tradition at the beginning of the year and originaLLy you went to the only ice cream place on campus

unfortunately, the ice cream place on campus isn’t super great

their waffle cones are always stale and the ice cream pretty much melts as soon as you take a step outside of the store

and you werE going to give up and just find another place (your second option was the ice cream at mcdonald’s but that’s actually kind of sad now that you think about it) but!!!!

you felt like you deserved to have good ice cream!!!

so you googled the best ice cream parlours in the city and scoops was one of the only ones that was the closest to campus

only a ten minute bus ride away and you didn’t even have to transfer to another bus or anything

it was pretty much a dream come true!!

and you still remember the first time you wandered in here because you were greeted veRy enthusiastically by jungkook

you were pretty much the only person in the store on that day because it was like 2pm on a tuesday which made it hard to believe that this place was as popular as it sounded

to be fair, 2pm on a tuesday isn’t really the normal time to grab a cone of ice cream so there’s that

“you’re not striking me as the cookies ’n cream type. that seems a little too basic for you…” jungkook mutters as he stroked at his chin thoughtfully, “and i’m not getting a rocky road vibe from you, either…”

“is that so?” the corner of your mouth twitches in a smile and you cross your arms as you begin to make your way down the counter, jungkook slowly following you from where he’s standing, “what kind of vibe are you getting from me?”

“red velvet cake!” jungkook stops in his tracks to point at the tub of red velvet ice cream sitting in the display case, “in a brownie waffle cone… with hot fudge on top.”

your brows perk up in interest

red velvet cake ice cream

in a brownie waffle cone

with hot fudge on top?

…that sounds like something you’d devour in three seconds flat.  

you obviously ended up enjoying the ice cream, and from that moment on, you promised yourself that this would be your place to celebrate your little victories

so, yeah!

the ice cream was good and the cute boy was just a bonus

of course… there is one tiny detail that has to be addressed

if it wasn’t already painfully obvious by now - jungkook makes you extremely nervous.

you’re not sure how it started, because you were literally fine when you first met him

the nerves appeared without warning of any kind!!

it was very strange

one day jungkook’s smile suddenly made your heart skip a beat and you had nO idea why because it had never done that before

and another time, when he told you that you were his favourite customer, your stomach started doing somersaults which was also something that your stomach had nevER done before

ooh, AND that one time when he said that he’d make a fresh batch of brownie waffle cones just for you… well, you were pretty much ready to marry him right then and there.

sure, when you saw the occasional attractive person on the street, you’d have the usual ‘oh, they’re pretty cute!’ thought, but that’d be it and then you’d never think about them again

but it was different with jungkook

it was more intense with jungkook

this wasn’t just a little schoolgirl crush.,,. this was,.., this was a schoolwoMAN crush

you initially thought that all these brand new feelings combined with the tingly feeling of chocolate syrup pumping through your veins should’ve been enough to scare you away from scoops forever, but…

the only reason why you keep swallowing your nerves and coming back is because the ice cream is really good here (five gold stars on google reviews!!) aND you can’t say no to extra hot fudge on the house!!!

sometimes jungkook surprises you with a couple brownie chunks or marshmallows or even cheesecake chunks on top without ever charging you which is also really nice of him

not to mention, on the days that you end class a little earlier, you like to come here to get some studying done

you have your own little table in the corner and jungkook always brings you a little treat to enjoy during your study session

nothing huGe like your usual red velvet brownie waffle hot fudge combo because you told him that you were only allowed to eat that if you were celebrating something, so he usually brings you a little cup with a random flavour of ice cream in it

strawberry shortcake

cinnamon toast crunch

banana milk is a really good one

and you can’t noT mention the chocolate-covered strawberries ice cream

the ice cream is a tangy strawberry base with swirls of dark chocolate in it and it is truly.,,. truly one of the best things you’ve ever put in your mouth

you just don’t understand why your knees get so wobbly and your palms get sO sweaty every time he flashes that handsome smile of his in your direction

you see plenty of attractive people every day on campus!

you see plenty of attractive people every day in your lectures!

your two friends are a couple of attractive people as well!!

at one point you even had crushes on boTh jimin and taehyung!! 

(you will be taking that information to your grave because if they find out.,,. you’ll never live it down)

so why is this any different??

“so, i’m gonna go with the strawberry-rhubarb pie in a cup… and-“ jimin turns to look at taehyung (and you, currently peeking at jimin over taehyung’s shoulder), “what are you guys getting?”

your eyes widen and you duck down again when jungkook leans over to look at you and taehyung

“i’m gonna go with… the dark chocolate and caramel swirl… in a plain waffle cone.” taehyung nods affirmatively, “yeah. take the order now before i overthink it.”

“one strawberry-rhubarb pie in a cup… one dark chocolate and caramel swirl in a plain waffle cone…” jungkook mumbles to himself as he rinses the ice cream scooper in the little bucket of water before tapping it off on the side, “-and one red velvet cake in a brownie waffle cone with hot fudge on top, right, y/n?”

boTh taehyung and jimin’s heads nearly snap off when they turn to look at you

taehyung steps out of the way and you freeze like a deer in headlights

maybe if you just… stay very still… jungkook won’t see you…

a good two seconds ticks by before you figure that you probably look like an idiot right now

“um-“ you straighten up a little before smoothing your sweater down, “i… yep! that… yep. sounds good.”

jungkook smiles brightly before nodding, “alright! just give me a couple of minutes to get that ready for you guys.”

your heart starts to drum away in your chest as you watch the back of jungkook’s head

even the back of his damn head is attractive

it’s not fair!!!!

“…i feel like there’s something we’re missing here.” taehyung is the first one to speak up and you force out a chuckle before shaking your head

time to do what you do best

D E N Y

“there’s nothing you’re missing here!” you snort, “he just- i’ve been here like, once or twice, so-“

“red velvet cake in a brownie waffle cone with hot fudge on top sounds a little too specific for you to have only been here once or tw-“ jimin pauses and his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “oh my god.”

your brows knit together in concern, “wh- what?”

a smile begins to creep onto jimin’s face and your mind begins to race with what he could possibLy be thinking when suddenly- “you slept with him!” jimin gasps before whacking tae’s arm multiple times, “she slept with him!!!”

“wha- NO- no, i did not sleep with jungk-!” you lower your voice when you realise that there are children in here and you lean in, “i didn’t sleep with him. i just- i come here a lot, and- i don’t know. he’s nice! a-and he’s cute. he’s- he’s nice and he’s cute. and he gives me free things, sometimes.”

“…yeah, i think she’s telling the truth. she definitely didn’t sleep with him.“ taehyung shakes his head and you let out a sigh of relief

at least someone’s on your side here

you jolt when taehyung suddenly gives you a hearty sLAp on the back, “she’s just in love with him and doesn’t know how to tell him-“

OH my go-

“hey, your ice creams are ready for you!” jungkook, once again, seemingly pops out of thin air and the thrEE of you immediately split up the mini football huddle, “i have them for you at the cash register if you wanna come over and get them! y/n, i tried something new with your cone - i wrapped marshmallow fluff around the top and then caramelised it so it’d turn into, like, a s’mores situation-”

“y-yep! i’ll be right there-“ you hold a finger out and jungkook nods before heading over to the cash register

you turn to look at jimin and taehyung and scowl when the two of them begin to make kissy noises at each other

“oh, y/n, come to the back so i can show you my cone-“

“you can fluff my marshmallows any day of the week, jungkook-“

oh, god

see????

this was exaCTLY why you didn’t want to come here!!!!

in case this happened!!!!!

“oh my god, lemme drizzle my syrup all over your face, baby-“

“okay, c’mon, that’s enough-“

“roll me up like how you roll those waffle cones with your big, strong arms-“

jesus christ

children!!!!!!!

they are both chiLdren!!!!

boys are so GROSS

jungkook waits patiently by the cash register as his fingers drum against the marble countertop

he leans over to peek at you and your friends and smiles lightly when he sees you whaCk at one of them

to be honest, he liked you the moment you stepped into the shop for the first time

he still remembers how excited you were when you were looking at all the different flavours

according to the company policy, customers are only allowed to try four samples but jungkook’s pretty sure he let you try twenty samples on that day

after the first time you came here, he was actually pretty worried that he’d never see you again??

he was pretty bummed about it for a while because he wished that he would’ve asked for your number or something while you were here but he was too busy trying to be the charming ice-cream boy anD he was also pretty busy admiring your cute face

so he was very much pleasantly surprised when you came back a week later and was fully ready to let you go ham on the samples again

>:-)

but, again, he didn’t ask for your number that time around either because he couldn’t figure out a smooth way to ask you

and he wasn’t worried about you noT coming back because you seemed like a pretty big ice cream person

the point is: jungkook’s had plenty of opportunities (practically handed to him on a silver platter) to ask for your number so that he can finally ask you OUT and… he hasn’t.

but today!!!!

today will be different!!!!

today he’ll finally make his move!!!

he’s not giving himself an option!!!

he actually wasn’t expecting you in today because you usually pop up every two weeks or so and you came in last week

at first he thought that maybe you were dating one of the boys that you came in with but from the looks of it, the vibes are very much platonic and not at all romantic

so he thinks he’s in the clear here

jungkook straightens his posture and puffs his chest out a little bit when he sees you walking over

okay

operation: finally ask y/n for her number, you pussy is undERWAY

“well, i’m going to go and pay for your guys’ ice creams and you can just continue to make fools of yourselves-!”

by the time you make your way over to the cash register, jimin and taehyung are stiLL going at it but you’re hoping that jungkook won’t pay it any mind

“alright, how much do i owe you?” you ask as you pull your debit card out of your wallet, “this ice cream is the only thing i’m willing to break my wallet over-“

“actually, all of this is on the house today.” jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet for a second, “it’s the special birthday discount!”

?

you tilt your head

what special birthday discount?

“birthday discount?” you ask dumbly, “it’s not my birthday, though.”

“no, it’s not your birthday… but it’s my birthday.” jungkook clears his throat, “and… you know, i wanted to do something nice for you!”

“okay, well, first of all- happy birthday!” you smile brightly before that smile immediately drops from your face, “and, second of all- i can’t take this for free, jungkook- you even sprinkled those fancy toasted pecans on top of taehyung’s ice cream! i have to give you something-“

jungkook swallows his nerves

it’s now or never!

“there is… one thing you could give me…” he trails off, his voice starting to grow a little quiet

okay

the confidence is beginning to dwindle a little so he should probably get to the point 

“yeah, i can think of one thing- like money??” you stick your debit card out again and jungkook rolls his eyes playfully before whacking your hand away

okay

just say it

just say it!!!!!!

“no, not money…” jungkook swallows thickly before shaking his head, “i was thinking more along the lines of… you know, your number.”

you drop your debit card on the countertop with a clatter

“my-“ you cut yourself off mid-sentence and you feel your cheeks immediately turn bright red, “you- you want my number?”

jungkook… jungkook wants your number?

you feel like money would be better than your number, but that’s just your humble opinion

“i mean- you obviously don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to! i-i’m not trying to imply that you owe me anything, i just-“ jungkook pauses for a second and his tongue pokes out to swipe over his bottom lip nervously, “i just, um, i don’t know! i… i really… enjoy your company, whenever you come in for a visit, you know? and i think you’re really pretty, so there’s that. i dunno.”

well, he can safely say that his self-proclaimed boyish charm flew out of the window as soon as he opened his mouth

why’s he so nervous all of a sudden??

he’s practiced this in front of the mirror a doZEN times

and every time he hits on himself in the mirror he’s tempted to give himself his number

that’s how good he is at flirting!!

but here he is!!! 

fumbling over his words!!! 

shoving his clammy hands into his pockets!!! 

diverting his gaze from the pretty girl who he’s been dreaming about ever since the first time he laid his undeserving eyes on her!!!

“no, no-! i just-“ you smile shyly as you slide your debit card back into your wallet with clumsy hands, “i would absolutely love to give you my number! it’s just that i- i didn’t- i didn’t think that you… liked me like that.”

jungkook looks up at you before scoffing playfully, “i’ve been giving you free ice cream for the past four months, y/n. you really didn’t think, at any point, that i liked you like that?”

you press your lips together before flashing a sheepish smile at him, “i mean… i was probably paying more attention to the ice cream than to you.”  

jungkook snorts

he should’ve seen that coming. 

(p.s. he heard every single word of what your friends said earlier and this is just his dumb icky sleazy boy brain speaking but he’d be down to drizzle his syrup on ur face if you allowed him to) 

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[yeojaa]

home sweet home.

[ read devil in a new suit ]

i just really, really wanted to explore a bit about kook’s family because i think it shines a big light on who this adorable baby is.  i hope you enjoy!  xo

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  you’ll get cavities from reading this, honestly.  but also, very light smut in the form of:  inappropriate bullet egg use and tit groping (again, kook is a boob guy).  wc.  1.7k.

You meet his parents on a Sunday afternoon, invited to their palatial home for family brunch. It’s the first one you’ve been invited to, despite the fact you and Jungkook have been dating for what feels like forever (but in reality is only six months).  

Mama Jeon is an intimidating woman with a deceptively sweet face, aging gracefully around her eyes, the barely there lines upon her hands doing little to detract from her beauty.  She holds herself with immeasurable grace, practically dances into her son’s embrace when the two of you step into the modernist’s dream, chicly decorated and swathed in neutral tones.  It reminds you vaguely of Jungkook’s apartment - but decidedly more refined.  Same colour palette, though. 

“Jungkook-ah,”  she hums, patting adoringly at his cheek when he passes a kiss against hers, looking every inch the mama’s boy he is. 

“Eomma,”  he returns, so giddy it makes your heart soar in your chest.  He’s so easy to love - and so easily loving, offering the world to the woman who’d raised and loved him.  Two hands - the picture of respect - pass over the box of pastries you’d picked up on your way, the bag of too-expensive fruit topping the container.  (Apparently, his mother loves grapes, but only green ones.)  “These are for you— from us.”

Now is when he gestures to you - standing just to the side, beyond his shoulder - with a flourish comparable to that of a game show host.  It’s adorable how eager he is, beaming proudly at his eomma as he reaches for your hand, squeezes it tight between his own tattooed one.

When she turns to you, her expression is inscrutable. 

This woman isn’t someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, offers pleasantries for the sake of it.  She’s confident and critical (but soft, somehow, for the people she loves most), forged from steel and refined by experience.  You’re simultaneously awed and afraid, a mixture of emotion you’re not quite used to.

She levels you with a look.  A moment passes, then another.  You wonder if your smile falters, eclipsed by the grey of her stare.  (You feel like that one girl from that one movie about those crazy rich… what was it?)  

Finally, she speaks, drags her eyes from your shoes - red Ferragamo pumps, with the signature bow detailing on the toe - up to your face.  It feels more like a stringent assessment than a casual perusal, stirring heat beneath the colour of your blouse.  You’re not nervous, per se, but you want her to like you.  Right now, you can’t tell if she does - probably have a higher chance of winning the lottery than getting an answer.  “Lovely to meet you, ____.”  Her tone is warm enough, polite and paired with a tiny nod of her sophisticat head.

The patriarch of the family is the opposite of his mother, endlessly genial and full of booming laughter.  It reminds you a little of Jungkook’s own giggle, but somehow more - rounded by years and years of full-belly laughing and further ingrained by the wrinkles around his eyes.  

Just like his mother, Mr. Jeon is slim, good-looking in a way that comes from proper self-care and living an easy life.  (Not that it’d always been this way, you remind yourself.  Jungkook had told you how hard his parents had worked - all the long hours his father had put into getting where he was, able to support his wife and two children.)  He encourages his son’s stories and looks fondly at his daughter - the spitting image of her mother, with the same round stare as Jungkook.  

When your bowl runs empty, he makes sure it’s refilled, nodding in approval when his son is the one to make it happen.  When his wife makes an off-hand comment in response to a story, he’s the one to chide her, however gently.  He’s not nearly as sharp as she is, softly rounded edges like the toe of his slippers, the natural sag of his jaw with time.  

(You get it now. Meeting his parents for the first time, juxtaposed so hilariously against each other, it all makes sense.  Who Jungkook is, how he is equal parts soft and yielding and hesitant and distant.  Why he smiles so freely - with wrinkles you see aged nearly three decades in his father’s face - but loves so tenderly, offering it with whispers of affection that you might miss, should you look away.)

His father asks you questions like he really cares, nodding thoughtfully each time he learns a little bit more about you.

“How did you two meet?”  He’s bright-eyed, curious over the coffee mug he sandwiches in his grip.  You imagine he’s heard the story - must have heard some form of it in passing from Jungkook - but you appreciate his interest nonetheless.  He just wants to see the perspective from someone other than his lovestruck son.

You can’t help but laugh, sucking in your cheeks like you always do when you’re contemplative.  Jungkook shifts at your side, drops his inked palm over your covered knee and squeezes.  You’re not sure whether he’s reassuring you or himself with the gesture.

“He actually kept coming into my store.”  It’s not a lie.  Certainly not as scandalous as the full truth, but a truth nonetheless.  That is how you’d met.  

“Your store?”  It’s Jisoo, curious and pretty from her seat where she’s still picking at the desserts you’d brought over.  (She’s a fan of tart and tangy flavours, unlike her brother.)  “Do you own a shop or something?”

You wonder how much she knows.  You know she’s younger than either you or your partner, a student at Korea National University.  Part of their dance program, if you’re not mistaken.  You’d heard all about it a few weeks ago, when she’d sent a video to Jungkook and he’d raved about it nonstop, so proud of his little sister you couldn’t even make fun of him.

“I work at CELINE.”  

That earns a noise of delight from Jisoo (together with an “oh my god, that’s so cool”) and a polite albeit disinterested nod from Mr. Jeon (if his nondescript but stylish clothes are any indication, luxury fashion isn’t his top priority).  

What you don’t expect - what you just barely not from the corner of your eye - is the surprise written across Mrs. Jeon’s expression.  As if she’s just learned something groundbreaking.  

“You have a job?”  Maybe she doesn’t mean it how it comes out, disbelieving and abrupt.  You don’t let it rub you the wrong way, nodding.  (You know where she’s coming from - you feel the same way about his exes as she does, it seems.)  She’s hardly looking at you now, though, gaze trained on her beloved son.  There’s a silent conversation happening between them - something you’re not privy to, an exchange held only with those matching eyes of theirs.  

He’s upon you the moment he climbs into his car, clumsily knocking against the centre console as he drags your body closer, forces your knees apart with his hand unceremoniously shoved all the way into your silk crepe trousers. 

“She likes you.”  The words are muffled against your lips - already spit slick and swollen by how savagely he attacks them, tugs your bottom between his teeth and nibbles.  

You know he means his mother.  She’d hugged you on your way out, patted gently at your upper arm when she’d sent you both off with some leftovers in pretty ceramic containers.  It’d been a surprising farewell from the woman who had otherwise kept you at arm’s length through most of brunch, offering small smiles and exchanging only the basest of pleasantries.  

You have to admit - it feels a bit like taming a lion.  You’re high on the feeling and it seems Jungkook is too, utterly delighted as he drags his finger through the arousal that’s all but ruined your thong, thin material shoved aside by his deft movements.

“Your sister?”  You laugh - sound bitten off by the edge of your teeth when he teases at your folds, presses the tip of his fingers over your clit and circles back enough times to make you shudder.

He’s sucking into the sensitive spot beneath your ear, catching your earlobe with the wet point of his canines.  “My mom,”  he mumbles, burying himself into your skin as if he’d happily live there, make a home between your bones if you’d let him.  (You would.)  “She hugged you.”  Hilariously enough, he sounds just as surprised as you.

“She did,”  you hum - sigh when the pressure in your abdomen increases, mirroring the same one between your legs.  He’s pulling gently at the cord peeking past your lips, tugging at the smooth pink egg snug within your pussy.  It’s not on now - not like it had been all through brunch - but it still feels absurdly good, perfectly shaped just the right amount of stimulation against your fluttering walls.

Jungkook makes the softest noise, one that sounds like his heart falling into place, his soul settling where it feels most comfortable.  It’s at odds with the way he gropes your chest over the smocked bodice of your blouse, seeking out the hardened bud of your nipple beneath layers of chiffon and macrame.

The tiny vibrator continues fucking into you, muscle walls clenching around it each time he yanks on the cord and then lets it fall back into place.  You wish it were his fingers (wish it were his cock, more than that) but your pants fit too-well, tailored slim around your waist and flaring over your ankles. 

Your 70’s pants, as your silly boyfriend liked to call them.

“I can’t wait to get you home.”  It’s so dreamy, hazy with affection that overwhelms you.  He’s looking at you so sweetly now, forehead resting against yours, entire palm pressed to your cunt.  “K-knew you were always perfect but—”  You lose sight of his lovely doe eyes, your own sliding closed when he stamps a kiss to your mouth, so terribly sweet it’s reminiscent of the cheesecake you’d just had.  

You understand what he means without him having to finish the thought, smile of your own acting as the ending punctuation to your conversation. 

Family means everything to him.  Now, you were one step closer to being part of it.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​​ @codeinebelle​​

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Divaz confos #3

Mod: Round three of your Divaz/z3st thoughts...

1. Re. Bjdivaz dump 2. No.5, I got screenshot of them saying what you said they did never happened, if you're the same anon that had them buy a 2nd hand doll and they haggled down the owner w/o telling u, that posted before. I believe u tho, anon. No.6, it was my doll that waited with them for 20 days. They weren't checking it - they had printed a shipping label which is how I knew how long it was there. And they told me it shipped. Their fault entirely for slow shipping. u can't make excuses!

~Anonymous

2. #5 might have had a decent point until they went from "this was my experience" to frothing Z3st-like falsehoods and extreme reactions. This is why people aren't taking your type seriously. You start raging at the tiniest thing, typically brought on by you or someone else being completely incapable of understanding simple statements. You're not a righteous army, you're the Karen Squad.

~Anonymous

3. BJDivaz deserves to go out of business. There, I said it. Anything they are doing at this point is their own fault, no one is "crusading" to get them shut down, it is their constant CONSTANT temper tantrums and inability to shut the hell up that is destroying their own name. Do you people really think DOA made that 'Dealer Caution' tag on a whim? They are suffering the consequences of their own shitty actions.

~Anonymous

4. Couldnt leave it as a comment because the divaz supporters would attack me. I think both divaz and al3x are insufferable. Al3x because he was proven to be a liar, and divas for being petty and unable to stay professional. Z3st's comment history made him look crazy, so his negative review wouldnt have been taken seriously, and others would skim it. Divaz brought attention to it, and gave it validity when they attacked anyone who didnt leave a positive later. Both of them can fuck off.

~Anonymous

5. I will NEVER buy from BJDivaz with the way they are responding to people. Z3st, I get, but tangy m3lon? Anyone who doesn’t give them positive glowing feedback gets responded to, and I am sure they will blast them to their followers like they did to z3st. Why are they allowed to respond to that in the feedback thread? Make a paging thread, message a mod. This is why people cant be honest, they attack anyone and everyone not bowing down to them. I will not be placing an order, ever.

~Anonymous 

6. I have a long layaway with BJDivaz that’s due to end next year…should I be worried?

~Anonymous 

7. Divaz should've just canceled Z3st/al3xcess's order instead of transferring it to DZ tbh. Kevins don't deserve nice dolls.

~Anonymous

8. Z3st/al3xcess needs a new hobby, because clearly dolls aren't it. Stop harassing other collectors and trying to make it harder for them to get the dolls they want. Get a life and some perspective, the thing you're crying about is so much not a big deal at all it's pathetic and so transparent that you're just crying to get attention. You're just making yourself look worse and lending more credibility to the post about you.

~Anonymous

9. Zest and his friend should really get a job or just go outside or something other than spamming this board with their bullshit.

~Anonymous

10. Vic3mage and that one other person seem really nasty whenever they comment on the Divaz debacle, but haphazarrd-marionette and mysteriously delicious the0rist seem so similar that vic3mage might be right about them being the same person. I'm not really sure who to believe anymore.

~Anonymous

11. I feel like I can't even vague any company anymore because everyone thinks it's abt Divazz, even though it's not. And I know someone is gonna say I shouldn't vague, but maybe I just wanna vague rant a bit, and be done with it? If I put the name to it, I might just fuck someone over, and I don't want that unless they're like known in the hobby for sucking ass. If I vague it's because I'm personally a bit upset, but I don't wanna ruin someone's rep for my one incident.

~Anonymous

12. Does z3st participate in his local comm? I'm worried about showing up to a meet with him present because I don't want to get into a physical altercation. The thought of being at a BJD with him prescence makes me feel very unsafe.

~Anonymous 

13. Why are the fans who title themselves as diva boosters, always thinking that all these confessions on diva's is made by one person? look at the den of angels thread, look at the people who didnt write 100% positive reviews, and look at the likes they got. Obviously people are fed up with divas and see through the bullshit spam positive feedback, including DOA mods. Funny how addicts deletes bad feedback from people pointing them to a feedback group, but leaves the positive feedback.

~Anonymous

14. Seeing all the new alt accounts people have made to chime in on the bjdivas argument like *sips tea* 👌

~Anonymous

[georgescatcafe]

vermillion — 3

rating: t warning/s: period-typical homophobia pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: cowboy x city boy au, rancher sapnap, rich george, coming of age, slow burn word count: 3,306 summary: When Sapnap gets sent into the city to get quick cash for his family’s struggling ranch, he’s not expecting much from the experience—lights aren’t very blinding when held up to the Sun, and he’s not exactly there to play around. But then he meets George, a boy built on money, who quickly sweeps in not just paying customers but also Sapnap, leading him into what any ruddy country boy would call the mouth of the Devil: high society. Cue a summer spent by each other’s side while feelings run unbidden, uncaring of deadlines and restraints.

It should be enough for the pair—and for awhile, it is, right up until it isn’t.

+ao3 +masterpost

;;

George’s parents aren’t even home. They get inside, George unlocking the door and calling out a tentative greeting only to be met with silence. Nick turns to him.

“Dinner, maybe,” George says. He readjusts Nick’s bag from where it’s started to slide down his arm. “Come on. I can show you to your room.” Nick doesn’t have a room, not yet, he knows, but he follows George anyway when he starts walking out the foyer and past the living room, er, both living rooms. He can’t help but crane his neck when they pass a doorway leading to what looks like an open dining room and adjoining kitchen. He bumps into George then, the other having stopped at the base of a staircase to wait for him.

Nick stutters out an apology.

“It’s fine,” George replies. “I can give you a proper tour in the morning, if you want?”

Nick will have to head out earlier, to set up at the market. “Maybe,” he says.

George smiles.

Nick’s room is apparently the first room on the left.

“The bathroom is right at the end of the hall,” George says, “and my bedroom is basically right across from yours.” He points at another, slimmer door. “Linen closet if you get cold. Or if you want to switch out your pillowcase or something.” And another door. “Another guest room. We don’t have company, but sometimes my parents strike unexpected deals and we end up having someone in there. If they’re at some dinner tonight, that might happen.”

“You’re going to tell them I’m here, right?”

George hasn’t stopped smiling, but it’s dull, eyes dark and shadowed, cheeks strained. “They’ll know; don’t worry.”

“I can stay in my truck,” Nick tells him. “It’s fine.”

“But you don’t have to,” George says. “Seriously, don’t worry about my parents.” He nods to the bathroom. “We’ve got extra toothbrushes if you need them. I’ll be in my room. You won’t have to look at me anymore.”

“I like looking at you,” Nick says and then wishes he didn’t because the smile finally drops from George’s lips only for the shadows in his eyes to expand and cover his entire face. “I didn’t mean that,” he adds.

“Yeah,” George replies, “I know you didn’t.” He turns, heading towards his room. “Anyway, I’ll be in here if you need me.” He tries a smile again. It’s weak, and Nick feels bile rise in his throat. He’s not sure brushing his teeth will make the sensation go away. “Goodnight, Sapnap.”

“Night, George.”

When he spits for the nth time over the sink, the tangy sharp taste remains. Being right is always fun until it isn’t. Nick splashes water over his face, cold and stinging. When he looks up, his eyes are bordering red. He squeezes them shut before pressing his fingers into them. When he pulls his hands away, his eyes are only even more red. Whatever. He takes his toothbrush and heads back to his room.

He can’t help the glance he sends to George’s door as he passes. The lights are off. He bites back the sigh threatening to slip out and keeps walking.

;; 

Despite the bed which is comfortable as hell, sleep doesn’t come easy. Every creak from downstairs puts Nick on edge, and a couple of times he hears creaking right outside his door, and he’s left to wonder just what it is George is doing out there. If it’s even George walking around. The room he’s in is big, with a high ceiling and tall windows, even for a second-storey bedroom, and it leaves him feeling open and exposed, and part of him wonders if it’d have just been better to sleep in his truck, in that market parking lot. Yeah, he was equally exposed there, but he was also in the middle of the city where shouting could wake up pretty much anyone. And he wasn’t the only one asleep under the open sky. Here, George is his friend, but that’s a new term, and Nick doesn’t plan on meeting George’s parents, not really. Here, he’s basically on his own.

Nick rolls over, tugging the sheets higher, tucking them right under his chin. It’s fine. He’s fine. It’s like first sleepover jitters. He just needs to get over it.

But there’s voices now, from downstairs, and his ears strain as he tries to listen is. It’s all accented, so it’s hard to pick out if George is among the voices. Definitely his parents, though. Nick groans, finally just giving a rough jerk to the sheets and pulling them fully over his head.

And the damn footsteps, again and again, going past his door. Seriously, what the fuck is George doing? If he didn’t hate the idea of meeting George’s parents, especially when he’s the way he is, he’d go out there and force the other to stop, marching him back to bed and tucking him in himself.

In the least weirdest way possible.

Eventually, the voices die down, and with them, so do the footsteps. Nick lets out a breath. When he looks over to the window, he’s grateful to see it’s still dark out. There’s still a chance for more than a couple of hours… hopefully.

 ;;

Morning is not kind to Nick. He wakes to birdsong, sunlight on his face, and that’s well enough, but it’s when he goes downstairs, planning to leave a note for George and his parents, thanking the family for their hospitality, that he sees a note is unnecessary.

“Um,” he says, and then, “good morning, sir.”

George’s father looks nice enough, if you look past the air of frigid coolness X from him while he butters a slice of toast. “Good morning,” the man replies. “Are you Nick?” The name comes out after a hesitation, and it makes Nick want to slam his head into the sparkling granite counter, embarrassment flooding him when he realizes George probably introduced him as Sapnap.

But all he does is smile and nod his head. “Yes, sir,” he replies. “You’re George’s father?” At the affirmative, he continues: “Thank you for letting me stay here. I know it’s probably inconvenient, and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“It’s alright,” George’s dad offers a polite smile. “George said you’re a Pappas?”

“Yes, sir,” Nick thinks he’ll be using that phrase a lot, “son of Glenn Pappas.”

“I’ve spoken to him once or twice,” the man thinks for a moment, “has your father ever mentioned a Davidson family?”

“I think I’ve heard that name, sir,” Nick replies. “I’m guessing you’re Mr. Davidson?”

“Guessed right,” Mr. Davidson replies. He spies the clock over the stove. “Well, you know us working men, I’m off. Take George with you when you go. I tell him he’s inside too often.”

Nick nods as Mr. Davidson takes a final sip from the mug that’s been sitting on the counter, placing it delicately in the sink before bidding Nick goodbye and disappearing out the doors and out the house. Nick stands alone in the kitchen before heading back upstairs to wake George.

George does not rise after the first knock, nor the second nor third.

Finally, Nick opens the door.

“George,” he says. “Wake up.”

The lump on the bed groans, shifting before settling again.

Nick sighs. “I had to talk to your dad. You have to wake up. George, what the hell.”

The blankets fall away as George sits upright, rigid. “You what?”

“Yeah,” Nick replies, “I went downstairs because I need to go to the market soon, and your dad was down there. He told me to take you with me.”

“Good,” George says at that, finally climbing out of bed, his lounge pants catching on his toes with every step he takes towards what Nick assumes is the closet. “Not good that you met my dad, though. You’re okay?”

“I didn’t want to,” Nick admits, “but he knew Pa, so I guess it went fine?”

“Stockyards, remember?” George sends him a smile oddly bright for someone who didn’t want to wake up a minute ago. “Anyway, get out.”

“What?” Nick takes a step back anyway.

“I’m going to get dressed,” George tells him, disappearing into, yup, the closet. “Get out.”

“Oh my God,” but Nick still exits the room, shutting the door behind him.

George comes out a couple minutes later, tugging a jacket on over his shoulders.

“You’re going to get hot later,” Nick says, but George waves him off.

“I’m cold now.” George leads the way downstairs. “Now come on, I’m fucking hungry. What do you want from McDonald’s? There’s one on the way back to the market.”

 ;;

Nick watches in both admiration and horror as George orders half the breakfast menu then proceeds to eat that and drink a large orange juice. Normally, it’d be just admiration, but George is so skinny—there’s no way he can just fit all that in there without dying. But he does, and when Nick still hasn’t exited out the parking lot after thirty seconds, George turns to him with a cocked brow.

“Weren’t you the one wanting to leave early?”

So Nick drives.

 ;;

The day passes much like the last, but with less awkward pauses and hesitation. Banter comes easy between the two of them, and George brings in customers while Nick leaves them satisfied with their purchase. The day’s inventory depletes quickly, and for that, Nick allows them an early dinner, the two of them packing up the truck and heading out before the sun’s even thought about reaching the horizon.

As they sit nursing sweet tea and picking at their pasta, George gives a sigh. “You can stay the night again,” he says.

“Do you want me to stay the night?” Nick asks.

George shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean,” he blinks, staring into his paglia e fieno before winding the fettuccine around his fork, “I like your company. I just mean—I don’t—I don’t know what I mean.” He takes a bite of his food. “Do you feel like you’re intruding?”

“No,” Nick replies, “I feel paranoid. Dissected, maybe.”

George nods, stabbing again at his pasta. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah.” He sets down his silverware finally, the metal making a small clink against his plate. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Can’t help it,” Nick says. “Oh, uh, what were you doing last night? I heard… were you pacing?”

George picks up his fork, and with the action, the pasta-twirling starts again. Nick refrains from reaching across the table to still his hand. “Yeah, that was—I went downstairs a couple times, and a couple times I was going to see if you,” he laughs, quiet, embarrassed, cheeks an obvious red, “were all settled in and stuff.”

He wasn’t. “I was,” Nick tells him, offering the other a smile. “No checking-up necessary.”

George smiles back.

;; 

It takes a couple more nights at the Davidson’s before Nick meets George’s mother. Equally nice as her husband, equally frigid. “You must be the Pappas boy,” she tells him. “Nick, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, “and you’re Mrs. Davidson?”

She smiles at him, and Nick finds himself smiling back, though he keeps a good few steps between them. “George says he’s been working with you,” she continues, “at the market downtown?” Nick nods, and she nods too. “Good. He needs to get out more.”

“He’s definitely out more now,” Nick says, and she smiles again, tighter at the corners, though. Right. He straightens. “I’ve told your husband but thank you again for letting me stay here. I’m sure it’s inconvenient, but—”

“If Harry said it’s alright, then it’s not a problem,” Mrs. Davidson interrupts him. “And we’re equally grateful you’re getting our son out of the house. Out of his room, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Always did wonderfully at banquets.” Elegant fingers rub at the pearls on her wrist. “He’s very good at speaking when spoken to, that means.” The smile she wears now is soft, gentle as the light from above the stove.

Nick isn’t sure whether or not he’s supposed to laugh. He tugs at his shirt collar. “Well, I’m glad to help. He’s a great business partner.”

Wherever Mrs. Davidson is, it isn’t with Nick. Her murmured yes is as much a dismissal as Nick thinks he’ll get. He bows his head and wishes her a goodnight. He doesn’t hear a reply.

 ;;

“Your ma is nice,” Nick tells George when he gets upstairs, finding the other sitting at his desk in his room. “Is it really not a problem? Me being here?”

George leans back in his chair, pushing himself away from the desk. “Yeah,” he finally says. “It’s not. We’ve got the space, anyway. You went three days without meeting my mum.”

“Not as much luck with your dad,” Nick says, and George laughs. When George pulls himself back into his desk, fiddling with the various knickknacks there before scratching his pencil across a notebook page, Nick wonders about what his parents said.

George talked about having friends—talks about having friends, even. He didn’t sound close to them, not really, didn’t even sound like he enjoyed having them, but he had them. Has them. Nick frowns, taking a seat at the foot of George’s bed before falling back onto the soft duvet. George doesn’t glance up from his writing.

“Are you going to see your friends at all?” he finally asks. “I mean, I know you said you don’t want to bother, but still….”

At that, George straightens, setting down his pencil and turning to look at Nick. “Anna and Blair are in Paris; Vince, Theo, and Gordon are back in the UK; Beth and Seraphina are in Switzerland. Everyone else is either away on summer internships or partying at South Beach.”

“And the people you named… are you close to them?” George sends him a look and Nick is quick to revise. “As close as you can be, I mean.”

“Sometimes,” George says before frowning. “Why? Do you want to stay at a hotel or something?”

“Stop acting like it’s the end of the world if I sleep in my truck,” is what Nick tells him first, and then, “and no. I was just curious. Before, you were by yourself, and now it feels like you’re always with me. I know you said you can’t really trust your friends, but you don’t even have plans with them.”

“It’s unconventional, yeah,” George says, turning back to his desk, “but it’s fine. I like what we’re doing at the market, and I like my friends in small doses. You, that exception.”

“Probably because I’m not someone that would leave you behind for South Beach,” Nick replies, and George allows a small laugh at that. Nick grins. “Alright,” he says, “I’m going to go get ready for bed. See you in the morning?”

George nods and lifts a hand in a wave. “See you in the morning.”

Right before shutting the door, Nick pauses. George does too. When they look at each other, Nick opens his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, before he realizes he doesn’t even know what those words are. He shakes his head, closing the door quietly behind him.

 ;;

He’s practically forgotten about the conversation when George brings it up again. “My parents,” he begins, “what’d they tell you?”

Nick freezes. “Nothing,” he replies, slicing a liver, eyes locked on the organ. Can’t afford to mess up and all that.

“Sapnap,” George says. “They told you something.”

“They didn’t!” Nick bites his lip and squints, lining his knife up again. Really, he’s got to get this cut right. He does.

“Nick.”

He puts the knife down. “They just said that you don’t go outside much and that I help with that. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Nothing with my parents is ever not a big deal,” George sneers. “I can’t believe this. So what—I fucking hate my friends, what about it?”

“Nothing about it!” Nick tells him, packaging the sliced liver. “Really, I was just wondering if you really didn’t have any plans. I think this is something that’s not a big deal.”

“No, no,” George sinks to the floor, squatting, palms pressed over his eyes, “it is a big deal.”

Nick frowns, lowering himself to pull George’s hands away from his face. “Everyone likes a little alone time, and you’re, like, living in a pit of snakes. How is it a big deal?”

George glares at him. “Let’s just say it’s not a very good look when you’re inside all day, and when you’re not inside, your usually with girls that you aren’t having an affair with.”

“You’re a teenager; how the hell would you have an affair?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” George replies, flat. “I look fucking weird! To my parents and to all their stupid business partners! Especially here. We literally work with oil companies and ranchers, Sapnap.” He jerks his arms free of Nick’s grasp to cover his face again. “No wonder they stopped putting up a fuss about you—you make me look good! I’m actually working, getting work experience, and to have a friend like you, a real, rugged, gritty guy—oh my God.” He drags his hands down his face to look up at Nick. “That’s so dumb.”

“So I make you look like a man?” Nick asks, and then blinks, shaking his head. “Also, stopped… putting up a fuss? So they didn’t approve at first?”

“Of course they didn’t approve,” George hisses. “I never do stuff like that, what I did with you, they were—not terrified, but you know.” He widens his eyes, lips set in a stern frown. Nick nods, though he’s not sure he knows. George continues anyway, “It’s messy. Families are messy.”

“Yeah, they are,” Nick agrees, though his was always pretty neat. Oh well. “But it’s fine,” he tries a smile, though the frown doesn’t leave George’s face, “I didn’t think anything of it, and your parents are happy with you—I see no downsides.”

“It’s the principle, Sapnap,” George tells him, but finally, he gives a small smile too. “It’s fine.”

“Do you want to maybe get off the floor now?” Nick asks, and George nods.

They rise, and Nick clears his throat. “Uh, I don’t know how good that was for business.”

“Sorry,” George replies, “I don’t usually… do that.”

“I know,” Nick says. When he smiles, George smiles back, zero hesitation.

;; 

The next day, George asks him how long he’s staying. Nick frowns down at his street tacos. “Until all the meat sells,” he says, “and then I’ll go home, get more meat, and stay until that sells out.”

“All summer?” George asks.

“All summer,” Nick replies.

George stares at a point past Nick’s shoulder. “Huh,” he says. “Well, you’ve been here a week. Are you going home soon?”

“Give it another week.”

George nods. “How many trips are you thinking?”

Nick shrugs.

“Do you think I could go with you on one?”

Again, Nick shrugs.

George narrows his eyes before huffing. “I want to see the ranch.”

“It’s got the animals you sell and grass,” Nick says. “What are you hoping for?”

“Consider it my South Beach,” George replies.

“Go to Galveston, then,” Nick retorts.

“Take me to Galveston, then.” When Nick looks across the table at him, George is serious.

Nick sighs. “Do you mean it?”

George doesn’t reply.

Another sigh. “Maybe. Can’t you drive?”

“My mom doesn’t want me to risk it,” George tells him, and the statement is so ridiculous it makes Nick choke on his next bite of taco. “What?” George asks, brows furrowing. “It’s true!”

Nick swallows as best he can before taking a drink of water. “I know,” he replies. “That’s what makes it so terrible.”

;;

next

[misharuu]

Sake ; One Shot

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden (no fandom knowledge is needed for this fic)

Pairing/Characters: Sasuke x Naruto, Shikamaru x Naruto (brief), Sakura

Warnings/Tags: NSFW ; yaoi, whump, hurt/comfort, emeto, sickfic, alcohol abuse, angst, first time, naruto is grieving, and drinking, sasuke is in denial about his feelings

Summary: Sasuke returned to the Village after absorbing Orochimaru. After a few weeks of interrogation and house arrest he’s free to roam. Sakura forgives him quickly but Naruto is pissed and grieving Jiraiya’s death, leaving him broken hearted and impulsive. One night at the bar Sasuke is left taking care of a blackout drunk Naruto, and one thing leads to another.

Word Count: 5,666

A/N: Okay so this has been sitting as a draft for way too long! I hope it’s alright! Feedback is loved!

AO3. FF.

Sasuke’s arms were folded over his chest, his long fingers wrapped around his upper arms, knuckles white. He narrowed his eyes as he watched Naruto drunkenly lean over a table, chatting with Shikamaru, who in his opinion was being much too courteous, enjoying the conversation much more than he should have been. Everyone knew Naruto was an obnoxious drunk; he drank too much too quickly, he never tried to pace himself, he was a flirt, and he couldn’t handle his alcohol. Being around him in this state was a complete hassle. It was way too much effort to wrangle him in at the end of the night and force him to go home. ‘But I don’t waaaannnaaa,’ he’d whine, eyes all glassy and unfocused, ‘can’t we go to another bar? The one up the block is open for another hour!’ Sasuke couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even the thought of Naruto’s insufferable whining enough to set him off. And what was Shikamaru playing at? Why was he acting like Naruto’s drunken ramblings were so entertaining? A bubbly laugh pulled Sasuke out of his thoughts. He glared as he watched Naruto and Shikamaru talk, standing way too close to each other due to their lowered inhibitions... and was that Naruto’s hand lingering on Shikamaru’s shoulder? ‘Pathetic,’ Sasuke hissed in his head, turning around on his stool to face the bar.

Sakura was in the stool next to him, completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t listening to her, ranting on and on about some book; or maybe about training? He couldn’t remember. “Yeah, that’s great,” Sasuke mumbled, offering some sort of reply every now and then to keep up his facade. He hated bars. Hated alcohol. Hated not being one hundred percent in control of himself. He sipped on a light beer, the tangy sourness bubbling over his tongue. And there was that damn laugh again. How could Naruto feel so comfortable letting his guard down like that? How could he be so carefree and uninhibited? He was basically sitting in Shikamaru’s lap at this point; they were in separate chairs but they were so close their knees were rubbing together. The display sickened him, awaking some sort of emotion deep inside the pit of his stomach. Anger? No, that wasn’t it. Disgust? Partially, but not quite. Jealousy...? That’s ridiculous, he didn’t have anything to be jealous of, right?

Sasuke glared as Naruto picked up a bottle, pouring out two shots less than carefully, clear liquid spilling onto the sticky table. Some sort of cheer was called out before they downed their shots, slamming their glasses on the table. Naruto didn’t even flinch, immediately reaching out for the bottle and taking a long swig. Shikamaru grabbed the bottle from Naruto, clearly unimpressed by his desires to get blackout drunk, and placed the bottle back on the table. Naruto was displeased, his eyebrows furrowed before he snapped at Shikamaru. Shikamaru laughed it off and took Naruto by the hand, pulling him up out of his seat. The sudden movement made Naruto stagger on unsteady feet, his hair was a mess and his face was flushed pink; totally wasted. A smirk grew across his lips, slightly pointed canines glinting, his whiskered cheeks dimpled. Sasuke growled deep in his throat as he watched Shikamaru drag the drunk boy into the bathroom. His fist clenched in his lap and he took another sip of his beer, glowering.

”Sasuke?” he heard a voice slur lightly next to him, dragging him out of his thoughts again, “I was thinking you could come back to my house tonight...” Sasuke glanced at Sakura, placing his cup on a coaster.

”I’ll be right back,” Sasuke barked as he got up from his stool swiftly, ignoring Sakura’s advance. She clearly deflated as he sauntered away, carefully gliding through the large, rowdy crowd. He wasn’t sure why but he felt like he had to see what was going on. Once he got to the restroom he didn’t bother knocking, pushing right through the door. Naruto was sat on one of the sinks with Shikamaru standing between his legs, orange clad knees pressing against his hips. Their mouths were locked together and Naruto’s hand gripped the back of Shikamaru’s neck as he grinded against his hips. Sasuke felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs and his heart dropped into his stomach. He felt completely furious. He wanted to pull them apart. Just as he was about to speak he realized that he was being ridiculous. Why did he care? It was none of his business. But seeing Naruto’s arms draped over Shikamaru’s shoulders, his legs wrapped against his hips...

“Can’t you see we’re busy here?” Shikamaru snapped, glaring at Sasuke as he held Naruto up. Naruto was clearly on the verge of a blackout, his head lolled onto Shikamaru’s shoulder as soon as the jonin moved, unable to hold himself steady, his eyes sliding closed.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, “this is still a bathroom, correct?” He walked over to the urinals and unzipped his pants, trying to concentrate on pissing and not the sounds Naruto made as he clung onto Shikamaru’s vest. He heard the sound of a zipper before Naruto gasped, and that was his breaking point. Sasuke pulled up his pants and flushed, spinning on his heels. “Get a fucking room,” he spat after he washed his hands, quickly leaving the restroom and letting the door slam behind him. He swiftly made his way back to his stool, obsessively watching the bathroom door, seeing how long it would take for the door to open. It was only a few moments later that the pair left, Naruto barely on his feet and Shikamaru guiding him to a chair, murmuring something into his ear before standing back up, gazing around the room as if he was looking for someone. Shikamaru caught Sasuke’s line of sight and immediately started to walk over. ‘Great,’ Sasuke sarcastically thought to himself, trying not to glare.

”Hey, uh, Sasuke... I gotta go. Just got word that I’m needed for an urgent mission. Could you possibly... uh, could you get Naruto home safely?” Shikamaru asked, a hand sliding through his hair with sheepish smile.

”You really think I’d be willing to do that?” Sasuke snorted, sipping his beer.

”You know damn well I don’t trust you, but Naruto does and he isn’t in great shape,” Shikamaru glared, a hand on his hip, “don’t do it for me, do it for him.”

Sasuke was about to reject him but Sakura was looking at him furiously, her hands clutched into fists, clearly about to threaten him if he said no. Sasuke heaved out a sigh, glancing beyond Shikamaru’s shoulder to the corner that Naruto was tucked into. The blond’s head was leaning against the wall, he looked like he was slipping in and out of unconsciousness, an absolute miracle that he was still upright. “Sakura, could you...?” Sasuke motioned to Naruto. Sakura just shook her head, disappointment clear on her face. Sasuke groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “Fine, but you owe me one,” he hissed as Shikamaru smiled, throwing Sasuke a salute before heading out of the bar.

Sasuke cautiously walked over to Naruto, pausing a few feet away as he took in the sorry state that he’d gotten himself into. His eyes were open but they were unfocused, his cheeks were flushed and his jacket was partially unzipped and wrinkled. He took a few steps closer, “Naruto?” Naruto slowly turned his head in Sasuke’s direction, his eyes narrowed.

”What’dya wan’,“ Naruto slurred, crossing his arms.

”I’m supposed to be escorting you home,” Sasuke rolled his eyes, not liking the situation any more than his ‘rival.’

”’M not goin’ anywhere with you,” Naruto huffed, “Shikamaru -“

Sasuke quickly cut him off. “Shikamaru apparently got called on a mission. Either that or he’s ditching you,” Sasuke shrugged cooly.

”Wouldn’ surprise me,” Naruto mumbled softly, “wouldn’ be the firs’ time they leave once they get what they want,” his gaze fell to the floor. For some reason that tugged on Sasuke’s heart, softening him a bit.

”Just let me take you home. You’re drunk and I doubt you want to wind up in a gutter somewhere.”

”Why d’you care?” Naruto spat, “not like it matters to you.” Sasuke sighed, gripping Naruto’s shoulder and pulling him out of his chair. Naruto was too drunk to fight him off, a string of weak arguments tumbling out of his mouth as he was dragged out of the bar. After one block Sasuke started to get fed up; Naruto was completely unsteady on his feet and after tripping once Sasuke had enough. He scooped Naruto off the ground and slipped him onto his back piggyback style. “What the fuck -,” Naruto yelled as he was swung off the ground, sitting in a stunned silence once he came to rest on Sasuke’s back. He was out of energy and couldn’t argue anymore, letting his arms slide around Sasuke’s neck, his head resting on his shoulder. Sasuke found himself smiling as he felt Naruto’s relaxed breaths puffing against his neck, warm and tickling. He wouldn’t admit it but he was happy Shikamaru had left. He didn’t want Naruto to make any decisions like that while he was so drunk. He didn’t know if the two had a relationship like that, but he was pretty certain they didn’t considering the things he’d seen Shikamaru and Temari getting up to. Just a drunken one night stand. Disgusting. Naruto was worth so much more than that.

”S’ske?” Naruto slurred, barely audible over the sounds of his footsteps against the road. Sasuke glanced over his shoulder, frowning at the way Naruto’s skin looked so pale in the moonlight.

”Hm?” Sasuke hummed, continuing his trek.

“M’ gonna puke,” Naruto choked out, a hand flying to his mouth.

”Shit,” Sasuke hissed as he ducked into an ally, quickly sliding Naruto off his back and carefully letting him down. Naruto staggered a few feet before letting a hand rest against a brick wall, bending at the waist as his free hand braced against his knee. Sasuke didn’t know what to do so he just stood in place, keeping a calm, unconcerned look plastered on his face. There was a few moments of silence and Sasuke just stood there, watching Naruto’s shaking frame as he clung to the wall for dear life. “Err... Naruto?” Sasuke asked, taking a few steps forward. Just then Naruto started coughing, quickly devolving into gags, which lead to a heave as a stream of alcohol splattered onto the ground. Sasuke winced but he couldn’t will himself to move, torn between trying to help and mocking him for getting himself to this point. He settled on the latter, a weak coping mechanism he resorted to when he felt uncomfortable. “Pathetic. You hold your alcohol worse than girl,” he sneered, crossing his arms, acting totally unfazed. Naruto didn’t answer, his legs shook as he struggled to stay upright, coughing harshly as he dry heaved over the ground. Sasuke sighed, giving up, as he walked over to Naruto, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, trying to help him to his knees so he wouldn’t fall over but Naruto resisted.

”Do you want to fall on your face?” Sasuke growled, forcing Naruto onto his hands and knees. He knelt on the ground next to him to try to offer some amount of sympathy, a hand reaching out to push his hair off his face but he froze once he saw the tears on Naruto’s cheeks. Naruto coughed and gagged as he brought up another wave of vomit, letting out a choked off sob. Sasuke frowned, pushing the hair off Naruto’s face. “I know it sucks, I’m sorry,” Sasuke soothed, his hand lingering on Naruto’s back, “just get it out.” Naruto was too weak to hold back, freely sobbing between gasping breaths and gags, falling back onto his ass once he was done. His shaky hands covered his face, cheeks red with embarrassment. Of all people he didn’t want to seem weak in front of Sasuke was at the top of the list. Ever since Jiraiya died the only comfort he could find was in alcohol, picking up people at the bar so he wouldn’t have to be alone, at least for a little while. It had been a few weeks and the hole in his heart just seemed to grow, he constantly felt cold and empty, searching for anything to fill the void. The alcohol dulled the ache while the sweet words of his one night stands acted as a bandaid; making him feel better until it was suddenly ripped off the next morning when he woke up alone, leaving a stinging pain in their wake.

Sasuke just sat silently for a moment; Naruto sounded so sad, so broken that it confused him and he didn’t know what to do. He pulled Naruto’s hands off of his face and wiped away his tears. “Come on, you’re gonna catch a cold sitting on the ground all night,” Sasuke murmured, the way that Naruto childishly rubbed his eyes made his heart flip flop in his chest. He scooped Naruto back up onto his back and changed directions, heading back to his house instead, deciding Naruto shouldn’t be left alone. Naruto either didn’t notice or didn’t care about their change of direction; all Sasuke heard was sniffling and hiccoughing the whole trip.

 Sasuke pushed his front door open and walked straight to his bedroom, placing Naruto on his bed while he flipped on the light, quickly shuffling through his closet as Naruto curled up on himself. Sasuke knew there was no point trying to talk to him about his sudden breakdown right now, he was probably too drunk to comprehend anything that was going on. Sasuke grabbed clothes for both of them, spinning around just in time to see Naruto’s face go green. He shot up on the bed, leaning over the side, a hand feebly trying to cover his mouth as he gagged, a dribble of bile dripping between his fingers and onto the floor. “Damn it,” Sasuke grabbed the trash can in the corner of the room and hastily shoved it into Naruto’s hands before he vomited again, wincing at the sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the metal can.

Sasuke quickly shuffled to the bathroom and grabbed a glass and a washcloth, wetting it with warm water before filling the glass with water, hurrying back to his room, helplessly watching as Naruto got sick. “God, how do you even have anything left?” Sasuke sat beside Naruto on the bed, rubbing his back, surprisingly not even mad that Naruto had puked on his floor. At this point he was just concerned and confused, completely out of his element. Emotions weren’t really his forte; neither was taking care of drunk people. All he could do was wait and whisper encouraging words; you’re okay, I’ve gotcha, I’m not going anywhere. Finally Naruto seemed to calm down, trying to catch his breath while lowering the garbage can onto the floor unsteadily.

”S-sorry...” Naruto whispered weakly, his big sad blue eyes making brief contact with Sasuke’s.

”Don’t worry about it right now,” Sasuke mumbled, grabbing Naruto’s hands so he could clean him up with the washcloth, hesitantly reaching up and wiping off Naruto’s face, erasing all evidence of his tears. Naruto just stared in disbelief, unsure or unable to speak, his eyes filling with tears at Sasuke’s tenderness. It made Sasuke’s head spin. He’d never seen Naruto cry, not unless someone was dead. ‘Oh, shit. Jiraiya,’ Sasuke wanted to smack himself; how had he not thought of that sooner. Sasuke sighed as he got up and grabbed a shirt and sweats, handing them to Naruto.

”Think you could manage?” he asked, getting a nod in return. They got changed in silence, their backs facing each other. Sasuke grabbed Naruto’s discarded clothes before helping him lay down, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He picked up the glass of water and handed it to Naruto, frowning at how shaky the boy’s hands were. “Drink this, it’ll help,” Sasuke muttered before he grabbed the can and the clothes and flicked off the light on his way out, bringing Naruto’s clothes to the laundry machine before starting to clean everything up. He headed back to his room with a mop and the garbage can, leaving the can next to the bed before swiftly cleaning the floor, trying to remain as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake Naruto up. Once the floor was clean he padded out of the room and rinsed the mop before heading back down the hallway to the living room, planning to sleep on the couch. As he walked past his room he couldn’t help but linger by the doorway, curiosity getting the better of him. He stood there for a moment, holding his breath, before he peered into the doorway. He saw Naruto’s shivering frame curled up beneath the blanket, his lips curling down into a frown.

“Sasuke?” Naruto’s voice suddenly broke the silence and made him jump.

”Y-yeah?” Sasuke asked, partially pushing the door open.

”Could you... Could you stay here tonight?” Sasuke’s blood went cold and he was confused with himself when he felt almost... relieved?

”Oh... Sure,” Sasuke mumbled, stepping fully into the room. He couldn’t help but notice that his hands were trembling as he pulled the blanket back, laying on the bed as far from Naruto as humanly possible, his heart racing in his chest.

”Thanks, Sasuke,” Naruto whispered sleepily, his breath coming deep and steady, clearly falling fast asleep. Sasuke just laid there, staring at the wall, thoughts swirling through his head. Their relationship had always been complicated and confusing. An odd rivalry spurred by a confusion of feelings. There had always been an unspoken tension, more than friends, rivals only in title and action, not in emotion. Naruto never gave up on him when he left the village, constantly searching for him, going head to head with Orochimaru on multiple occasions just to try to ‘rescue’ him. But at the time he didn’t want to be saved. Once he killed Orochimaru he let himself be found. He had to pretend to be angry, had to pretend he didn’t want to come back, but deep down he was tired of running. The way Naruto cried and begged him to return finally made something click, and he returned to the village. The trip back was uncomfortable to say the least. Kakashi tried to act nonchalant. Sakura and Naruto gave him the cold shoulder. It took weeks before Tsunade and the black ops would let him return home on the condition that he spill all of his secrets. News of Orochimaru’s death seemed to calm them slightly, but he was always being tailed. Not trusted. He didn’t expect to be. This was the first night since his return that he’d spoken more than two words to Naruto. Sakura was much easier to appease.

Jiraiya had died right before Naruto set out to find him, trying to cling to some sort of hope that things could return to ‘normal,’ whatever that meant now. Sasuke hadn’t heard of Jiraiya’s death until a few weeks after he returned; he didn’t really know him, he’d heard of him but that was about it. All he knew was that he was Naruto’s sensei. Apparently they had a stronger bond than he had imagined. Sasuke sighed as he rolled onto his back, an arm suddenly being draped across his waist. Sasuke glanced to his side, afraid to move, eyes wide as he watched Naruto cuddle up to him, blond hair tickling his cheek as he nuzzled his head into Sasuke’s chest. Sasuke held his breath, frozen, warm breath puffing against his skin. He knew there was nothing he could do, so he gave in, allowing himself to drift off to sleep, curling his arm protectively around Naruto’s shoulder.

——————————

Sasuke awoke to the feeling of being watched. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes before glancing down, instantly getting caught up in deep sea blue eyes. His arm was sore from being stuck beneath Naruto’s shoulder all night, where it still laid. “Naruto?” Sasuke asked groggily, pulling his arm back and pushing himself up, yawning as he stretched. Naruto didn’t move, confusion flashing across his face, weary and hungover. Sasuke sighed, unsure whether Naruto even knew where he was or how he got there. “Do you remember last night?” Sasuke asked.

Naruto rose up and sat on his feet, blankets pooled around his waist, Sasuke’s shirt hanging loosely around his neck. “Oh, uh... Yeah... Sorry about,” Naruto motioned to the floor, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

”Mmm, always having to clean up after your sorry ass,” Sasuke snorted, getting up to his feet. “Want anything to eat?”

Naruto’s nose wrinkled up in disgust. “Not unless you want me to puke on your bed this time,” he joked, still standoffish and uncomfortable as he sat on Sasuke’s bed, struggling to convince himself this wasn’t a dream.

”Fair enough,” Sasuke chuckled before padding out of the room.

Naruto sighed and fell back onto the pillows, his arms folding beneath his head. He never could have imagined laying in Sasuke’s bed. His scent enveloped him, masculine and strong, safe. Naruto glanced down and realized he was wearing Sasuke’s clothes, adrenaline coursing through his veins. It felt like a dream come true, everything he’d ever wanted. He was expecting to wake up and get yelled at, to swiftly get kicked out and told to get his shit together. The possibility of being offered breakfast in bed never even crossed his mind, giving him whiplash. But Naruto couldn’t complain. He couldn’t take this for granted. He knew he’d have to enjoy it while it lasted, before Sasuke came to his senses and realized what he was doing and reject him like everyone else. Naruto felt his lower lip tremble at the thought; he didn’t know how much longer he could take the loneliness. It was taking its toll, insomnia plaguing his nights, alcohol the only thing that could sing him to sleep.

”Naruto?” Sasuke’s voice made him jump. He spun around and stared up at the older man, quickly wiping his eyes as he realized they’d filled with tears. “Are you okay?” Sasuke asked before kneeling on his bed, holding out a plate of toast and juice for Naruto.

”Oh, uh, yeah... Just don’t feel so good,” Naruto mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he reached out for the juice and toast with shaky hands.

”Well if you’re gonna puke at least try to get to the garbage can this time,” Sasuke joked before taking a bite of his toast. Naruto felt dumbstruck, sipping his juice while staring at the bedspread.

”Why are you being so nice to me?” Naruto whispered, cheeks burning red.

”Seemed like you could use a miracle.”

Naruto didn’t respond; he didn’t know how to respond. He was right. Naruto felt lost. Seeking comfort with random guys at bars. Sasuke had seen that for himself the night before. Even thinking about Jiraiya made him breakdown into tears. Sasuke was never the type to kick someone when they were down, always avoiding the fatal blow.

The silence was deafening, making Naruto feel even more on edge. “Do you always eat in bed? Seems like a great way to get ants,” Naruto joked before biting into his toast, trying to break the silence.

”No; I figured this was a special occasion,” Sasuke commented cooly, finishing his breakfast quickly, taking Naruto’s plate and setting them on the bedside table. Another awkward silence.

”So, uh... I guess I’ll head out now,” Naruto started to get to his feet, “thanks again for everything.

”Oh, so soon?” Sasuke legitimately seemed disappointed, crestfallen. Naruto hesitated, still partially on the bed, staring directly into Sasuke’s eyes. It was intense; he felt so vulnerable yet so intrusive. He couldn’t ignore the look in his dark eyes - it was probably the same look he was giving Sasuke.

”Just say it,” Naruto snapped, “please.” Sasuke couldn’t find the words to say so instead he closed the space between them, grabbing Naruto’s face with both hands, pulling their lips together. Naruto quickly sat back down, a hand snaking it’s way around Sasuke’s neck, heart pounding in his chest. It was even better than he’d imagined, Sasuke was dominating but also so soft, so tender, allowing his fingertips to graze Naruto’s cheek. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine; he parted his lips and had to choke back a moan as Sasuke’s tongue slipped into his mouth, careful and exploratory at first but he quickly gained confidence, their tongues twirling together. Suddenly Sasuke pulled away and Naruto couldn’t help but whine.

”What about Shikamaru,” Sasuke’s eyes were dark, his pupils blown, already panting. Naruto frowned deeply at the mention of his name.

”That wasn’t anything... Anyone I’ve ever been with was a weak attempt at forgetting about you,” he stated breathily, looking away with embarrassment at the confession. Naruto expected Sasuke to be disgusted with him so he was taken off guard when he was suddenly pounced on. Sasuke pinned Naruto to the bed, their lips joining sloppily as Sasuke slid his thighs between Naruto’s legs. The feeling set Naruto off and he couldn’t hold back anymore; he moaned as he felt Sasuke’s erection pressing into his hip, rutting up against him as he gently nipped Sasuke’s bottom lip. Sasuke growled as he slid his tongue into Naruto’s mouth, grinding his hips down forcefully, fingers wrapped tightly around Naruto’s wrists, holding them to the mattress. Naruto felt defenseless; he couldn’t move an inch and he loved it. He’d wanted this for so long, since before Sasuke left. Years and years of desire finally coming to be a reality. Sasuke would never let him know but he’d felt the same, he was just too overwhelmed with vengeance to think clearly. Killing Orochimaru was a release; he was finally able to admit what he really wanted. What he really needed.

Sasuke sat up and flung his shirt off, partially getting to his feet so he could slide off his sweats. He dove back down on the mattress, his fingers curling around the elastic of Naruto’s pants before forcefully pulling them off. Naruto gasped at the sudden movements but complied, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. The second Naruto had his shirt off Sasuke pinned him back down, gliding between his legs, their cocks lining up perfectly. He paused for a second before starting to move, rutting into Naruto’s hips, their precome mixing together and offering lubrication. Naruto couldn’t take his limited movement anymore and gripped Sasuke’s shoulders, turning them both on their sides. He propped his knee up on Sasuke’s hip before continuing to rub against Sasuke’s length. Sasuke reached up and opened his bedside drawer, retrieving a bottle of lube. He flicked the cap open squeezed some in his hand before sliding his hand down between Naruto’s cheeks, a finger teasingly rubbing against his rim. “Ah!” Naruto gasped, his hips stuttering as he pushed back against Sasuke’s fingers, desperate for more. Sasuke smirked as he continued massaging Naruto’s opening for a moment, loving the way it made him squirm, before dipping in a fingertip. Naruto moaned against Sasuke’s lips, his hand grabbing a hold of Sasuke’s waist. Sasuke slid his finger in easily, barely any resistance, gliding in and out as he created a quick rhythm. Naruto could do nothing but pant, his cock hard and throbbing, pressed up against Sasuke’s hip.

Naruto reached down and took hold of Sasuke’s cock, pumping his length before sliding over the head, twisting his hand around it before sliding a finger over the slit. Sasuke thrust himself harder into Naruto’s grip, sliding a second finger into Naruto’s entrance, a coy smile spreading across his lips as he tantalizingly rubbed Naruto’s prostate, eliciting a yell of pleasure from the younger man. Sasuke continued to rub up against his prostate unyieldingly, sending wave after wave of pleasure across Naruto’s body, an almost overwhelming sensation. “Fuck, Sasuke,” Naruto moaned, pushing himself up off the mattress and forcing Sasuke’s hands off of him. Sasuke looked up at him with confusion in his eyes but that confusion was quickly replaced with a groan as Naruto pushed him onto his back, licking and kissing a trail from his neck down to his hips. Naruto’s lithe body slid between Sasuke’s thighs, coming to rest on his knees above Sasuke’s cock. He teasingly kissed the base, kissing and nibbling his way up to the head, a hand wrapping around the base. He flicked his tongue over his slit, smiling as Sasuke’s hands tangled into Naruto’s hair with a barely audible moan. Naruto took Sasuke into his mouth, tongue twirling against the head as he bobbed up and down, slowly taking in more and more of Sasuke’s length. One hand slid up and down Sasuke’s thigh while the other cupped his balls, gently squeezing and rubbing, working Sasuke into a frenzy. “God, how are you so good at this,” Sasuke moaned, softly pulling Naruto’s hair as he fought off the urge to rut up into Naruto’s mouth, not wanting to overwhelm him. Sasuke glanced down and saw Naruto smirk - God, how do you smirk with a dick in your mouth?! - he moaned as he pressed his head back against the mattress, slowly pressing his hips further into Naruto’s mouth.

Naruto took in Sasuke’s full length, swallowing around his cock, pausing for a moment to adjust before starting to bob his head up and down again. Sasuke groaned as his hips stuttered, fucking Naruto’s mouth as the younger man happily complied. Suddenly Sasuke felt Naruto stop moving, he glanced up to check on him and was stunned at the sight. Naruto was on his knees, his ass in the air as he fingered himself; his cheeks were flushed pink and he was panting, one hand still wrapped around Sasuke’s cock, his head resting on Sasuke’s hip as he lightly moaned and panted, pressing back into his own hand. Sasuke’s eyes widened at the sight, his cock jumping and throbbing, meeting Naruto’s deep blue gaze, his eyes filled with desire and lust. Naruto’s pupils were blown and his eyes were glassy, pink lips parted and slick with saliva, a completed lewd display as he moaned, hitting his prostate. That was all it took; Sasuke grabbed the lube and squirted some in his hand, hastily costing his length as he pushed himself up on the bed. He grabbed Naruto by the waist and spun him down against the bed, the back of his head resting in the pillows. Sasuke took his spot between Naruto’s legs, gripping the younger man’s calves as he forced him to bend his legs around his hips.

Naruto just laid there panting, pressing his ass against Sasuke’s groin, impatient for more. Sasuke chuckled, “can’t wait to feel my cock, can you?” he purred as he lined himself up, teasingly rubbing the head against Naruto’s opening. Naruto whined, pushing back on him, gasping as Sasuke gave in and started to push inside. Sasuke couldn’t help but moan as his cock sank in, balls deep in Naruto’s hot, tight opening. He paused for a moment to take in the view; Naruto’s desperate eyes, licking his lips slowly before gripping Sasuke’s face, teeth clashing together as he forced his tongue in his mouth. Sasuke was too frenzied to start slow, immediately pulling out and slamming back into Naruto, moaning deep in his throat as he felt Naruto clench around him. He plowed him hard, each thrust punctuated by Naruto’s gasps, absolutely keening as Sasuke’s abs pressed against his cock, already close to finishing. Sasuke moves downward slightly and sank his teeth into the fleshy spot in the crook of Naruto’s neck, sucking and nibbling his skin, marking him, claiming him. His. Naruto grabbed Sasuke’s hair and pulled hard, groaning as Sasuke’s tongue danced across his neck, back arching up as he wrapped a hand around his throbbing cock, working up a quick rhythm.

“F-Fuck, Sasuke, g-gonna cum,” Naruto gasped as Sasuke grazed against his prostate, a sly smirk curling over Sasuke’s lips as he pulled Naruto’s legs further up his sides, forcing his dick deeper into Naruto’s tight opening, unyieldingly hitting his prostate as he  stroked him. With one final gasp Naruto came, slick white strings spurting on Sasuke’s chest as he leaned down and nuzzled into Naruto’s neck, relishing in the small sounds he was making in his ear. Sasuke buried himself deep before finally tipping over the edge, groaning as he went slack, collapsing upon Naruto’s chest. They both stayed still for a while, blissed out, overwhelmed, maybe a little afraid of what would come next.

Finally Sasuke pushed himself up on shaky arms, sauntering towards the bathroom completely nude, smirking to himself as he felt Naruto’s eyes watching his ass as he left the room. He quickly wet a washcloth and headed back towards his room, hastily cleaning himself off before kneeling on the bed next to Naruto, gently wiping him off, admiring the rivulets of water dripping down his toned abs. Naruto just laid there silently, trying to allow everything to sink in, struggling to come to terms with the major step they had just taken; he hadn’t even noticed when Sasuke started helping him get dressed, mindlessly lifting his arms to allow him to slip his shirt over his shoulders.

”Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Sasuke murmured so quietly that it was barely audible but the words came through to Naruto loud and clear. A feeling of hope - a feeling so foreign and long forgotten - welled in his chest, his heart pounding as his eyes teared up. Sasuke sank back onto the mattress, wrapping Naruto up in his arms, pulling his face to his chest while gently caressing his cheek, allowing his eyes to slide shut as they drifted off into a comfortable afternoon nap.

[bittysvalentines]

My Best Friend’s Breakup

From: @missweber

To: @pwoops

Tags: Snowy/Tater, Snowy/OFC, background Zimbits, background Parswoops, friends to lovers, fluff, mild angst, accidental marriage, deliberate marriage

Summary: Everyone says that Snowy and his girlfriend are perfect together. This bothers Tater, which makes sense given the crush he has on his best friend. But he’s not the only one who is disturbed by how perfect everyone says Snowy’s girlfriend is. (This is in the same verse as ‘Fourteen Weddings and a Kerfuffle,’ but can be read as a stand-alone story.’)

Alexei wasn’t sure if he loved or hated Family Skate.

Family Skate meant skating with his friends and not having coaches yell at him or some asshole on the other team pick a fight with him. And there was always lots of food. That part, he loved.

What he didn’t love was always showing up alone, with no wife, no girlfriend.

Or no boyfriend, which was an intriguing new way to feel alone.

He tried to be subtle about watching Zimmboni with his little B over by the boards, talking and laughing with Carrie and Snowy…

…and Laurel.

Another thing Alexei hated about Family Skate was that it made him dislike a woman who truly didn’t deserve it. But how could he not dislike Snowy’s girlfriend?

Without his notice or his permission, Alexei’s feelings towards Snowy had turned into something that wasn’t just friendship. It was probably inevitable, given how Snowy was his best friend and a very, very handsome man as well. 

Given that Alexei enjoyed men as much as he enjoyed women, he had been doomed from the start.

For the sake of his heart, Alexei had long ago accepted that nothing would come of his crush and he would enjoy the friendship for what it was. And what it was, was the best kind of friendship a man could hope for.

As for that little touch of melancholy that it would never be more than friendship? It eventually settled into something almost pleasurable, like the soreness after a hard workout, or the burn of vodka searing down his throat.

This was very Russian of him, he decided smugly.

Again, he glided past the little group by the boards, past Zimmboni’s hand on B’s back, past Snowy standing close to Laurel, past Laurel saying something about ‘anniversary.’ 

This time, the jolt of melancholy wasn’t remotely pleasurable.

Everyone said it was only a matter of time before Snowy proposed. Laurel was a sweet girl, a perfect hockey girlfriend who would be a perfect hockey wife. 

Marty had even started a betting pool about when Snowy would propose, and Alexei had been grumpy enough to put money on them breaking up before Easter, just to be an ass. 

His best friend was going to get married and Alexei would just have to learn to live with that and with the fact he had thrown good money away purely out of spite.

* * * 

Dustin sank into the oversized, overstuffed, and over-engineered chair with a groan. Tater’s new recliner wasn’t at all to his taste, what with the red leather and the cup holder, but he would be the first to admit that the vintage Bauhaus furniture in his own apartment was more suited to a fit of ennui than a wallow in self-pity.

“Breakups fucking suck,” he whined.

Tater made a sympathetic noise that abruptly morphed into a huh? 

Dustin side-eyed him and got a puzzled look in return. 

“I thought you break up with her?” Tater asked.

Another groan. Tater’s recliner welcomed him further into its womb-like depths. It was even uglier than Zimmermann’s god-awful running shoes, but damn it was comfortable. 

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, because it’s not like I still don’t care about her, y’know?”

Tater grumbled with frustration, probably over Dustin’s tangle of negatives. 

Dustin took pity on him. “I broke her heart, and I feel like the worst person in the whole fucking world right now, okay? And Marty’s gonna slit my throat, because Gabby and Laurel are BFFs, and argh!” He screamed into his hands.

In so many ways, Laurel was perfect. Everyone said they were perfect together. She was hot, smart, funny, fun in bed, thoughtful, able to cope with all the bullshit that went with dating a hockey player…

“I made a big fucking mistake, didn’t I?” 

Thirdy had all but ordered him to lock that down, kid, at Family Skate two weeks ago. He had been weirdly insistent that the end of the regular season would be an awesome time to propose, but that wasn’t the important part.

The important part was that afterwards, things started going a bit… sideways with Laurel. Not bad. Just…

Sometimes, looking at something from a new angle made it look like a completely different thing.

Tater let out the long, rumbling hmmm that meant he was putting concepts together, taking them apart, and carefully reassembling them in a different language. 

While Tater pondered, Dustin thought about begging Laurel to take him back. He could say he was freaked out by the pressure of trying to secure a playoffs spot, and did something impulsive. She would take him back, right?

The certainty that she would knotted up his stomach more than he expected.

Tater got up and went to the kitchen. “This need pie,” he announced. 

Next came the crinkling of foil and the clink of plates being placed on the counter.

“B make blueberry pie, just for me.” Tater called from the kitchen. “When he hear about Laurel, he say I should share.”

The knot in Dustin’s stomach unfurled and bloomed into warmth. “I get Bittle pie? Aw, man, you really do love me.”

A long pause. An exasperated sigh.

“I only share little piece.” 

A few minutes later, Tater came back with two generous slices of pie, warmed up and garnished with a dab of sour cream. 

The first time Tater had served pie with sour cream, Dustin assumed it was a mistake, and that Tater meant to get whipped cream but read the packaging wrong. 

“Is not mistake,” Tater had retorted, testy at being corrected. “You see.”

The combination of hot, sweet fruit and cold, tangy sour cream was a revelation. In retrospect, it should have been obvious how perfect they’d be together.

Tater draped a napkin over Dustin’s lap with a flourish, then handed him the pie. Both plate and napkin were bright and fussy, like something Tater’s babushka might have bought. 

Again, not to Dustin’s taste, but you couldn’t serve sympathy pie on minimalist matte-black plates.

“Now we talk,” Tater said. “You sad because Laurel sad, yes?”

He nodded. He saw events play out as if they’d just happened. The expectant, eager look on Laurel’s face when he said he needed to talk to her, the way her smile just shattered when he said he didn’t want anything long-term, the sound she had made. The sudden nausea when he realized that their anniversary was in three days and she had been expecting will you marry me and not it’s not you it’s me.

“Yeah. Like I said, worst person in the world.” He pointed at himself with his fork. He might not want to spend the rest of his life with Laurel, but he still liked her. Loved her, even if not enough for forever. And he had hurt her. Badly.

“Imagine something for me,” Tater said after a minute, unusually serious. He leaned in and put a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “Imagine she not sad at all. Okay, maybe little bit sad, but she say ‘You are right, Snowy. We should break up. Now I move to Vancouver and meet someone new.’ How you feel now?”

He thought. He thought about not having her around to go on dates with, to sleep with, to be around, to have fun with. She checked all the right boxes. 

She was the perfect girlfriend—

—for someone else. 

“I feel…”

Underneath the guilt and sadness, he felt the same peace he felt when he first realized he could just end things. He felt the absence of a dread that grew each time someone said something about how perfect they were together, or about locking that down.

He felt relief at avoiding something that was starting to seem inevitable.

Other things became clearer as well.

For example, how fucked up was it that he got more of a cozy domesticity fix from his best friend than he ever had from his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend.

“I feel like I did the right thing.” 

Laurel could begin moving on instead of waiting for a proposal that would never come or that would turn into a disaster of a marriage. She could find someone who wanted to be with her forever.

“But I still feel like shit for breaking her heart. I wish I could fix that.”

“See? You good person.” Tater punctuated this with a sharp nod. “Not worst in world.”

“You’re a good friend, Tates. The best.” He sighed. “I guess marriage just isn’t my thing.”

Tater went silent and pensive for a moment. Probably thinking about his own lack of relationship success. At least that made two of them, now.

Dustin turned the chair’s massage settings from ‘Meditative Waves’ to ‘Angry Swedish Nurse.’ He deserved it, after all this emotional shit.

“No. I lied. I’m gonna marry this chair.”

Tater tsked. “No. You need time. You just break up, remember?” 

Dustin laughed. If it was shaky, he would blame the massage setting. “Where’d you get this thing anyway? And why?”

Tater muttered something vague about impulse buys and winning lots of money on some stupid bet, then showed Dustin how to turn on the seat warmer.

He could stay here forever.

Funny how that thought didn’t fill him with dread.

* * *

Alexei spent more time at B and Zimmboni’s place in the days after winning the Cup than he did at his own. It wasn’t exactly intentional, but Zimmboni had a couch that was long enough for him to stretch out his bad leg, and B loved having someone to fuss over. Besides, his apartment was just two floors down so he could go there any time he wanted. 

In theory.

“I’m surprised you aren’t spending more time with Snowy,” B said. It sounded like a question. Zimmboni shot him a look.

B ignored that and handed Alexei a slice of pecan pie. It had taken some coaching on B’s part, but Alexei could finally pronounce ‘pecan’ correctly. He would have to find an excuse to drop it into an interview at some point.

“Snowy live in building two blocks over, not two floors up,” he said between bites of pie. “And his furniture not comfortable.” He sketched out the shape of one of Snowy’s chairs in mid-air. It looked more like a geometry exercise than something you could sit in. “All metal and edges and… yuck!”

It was a reason, but it wasn’t the only reason.

“I see,” B said brightly. “And here I was all worried that something was wrong between you two.”

“Wrong? Nothing wrong! Why you think something wrong?”

It wasn’t really a lie if things were only wrong in his own head, right? Once he stopped dreaming about kissing Snowy after winning the Cup the way Zimmboni had kissed B, everything would be fine. Right?

“Oh, no reason,” B said, voice like sugar. “Just… you two normally spend all your free time together, but instead you’re here.”

Alexei smiled and held out his now-empty plate for a refill. “No. Everything fine!”

B took the plate, but did not head back to the kitchen. He looked down at Alexei. 

“Normally, I would never, ever be deliberately rude to a guest, especially an injured guest who knows how to properly appreciate a good slice of pie, or a half-dozen biscuits with gravy, or a whole pound of bacon, but you’ve got me wondering, hon—what’s Russian for ‘cock-blocking’?”

“Jesus, Bits…” Zimmboni groaned, but he was also laughing. “It’s not that we don’t love you Tater—”

“—but a little alone time would be kind of nice. Listen. Whyn’t you come up for breakfast tomorrow? You and Snowy both. I’ll make those blueberry pancakes you like so much.”

Before Tater could do anything but nod, B was on the phone with Snowy. “If you want to come over and retrieve your favorite Russian, that pie I promised is all ready for you… Mmm-hmm… Blackberry with crumb topping… Right… See you soon!” He hung up and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, showing that any irritation he had felt had melted away. “I think he’s missed you, the past few days.” 

It took less time than it should for Snowy to get to Zimmboni’s place. Maybe he was already on his way over when B called, and Alexei didn’t know what to do with that idea.

Maybe Snowy didn’t know, either, because instead of coming right in when B opened the door for him, he just stood there for a moment. 

“Hey, Tater,” he said, strangely quiet. B ignored any awkwardness, and handed Snowy a pie box before dragging Zimmboni down the hall towards the bedroom. Neither he nor Snowy said anything until they heard a door being shut firmly.

“Sorry if I’ve kind of been avoiding you the past couple days,” Snowy said. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it all out of order. “I had to get my head around a couple of things.”

“I understand.” The daydream about kissing Snowy started up in the back of his mind. He had no idea how to stop it playing. Also, hadn’t he been the one avoiding Snowy? “Is okay, now?”

Snowy nodded sharply. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about things since I broke up with Laurel, and also since…” He nodded down the hallway. It was quiet for now, but it wouldn’t be much longer. “Things have changed, or no… it’s not that they’ve changed. I’m just seeing them differently. Anyhow, I’m not making a whole lot of sense, so let me just get to it—can I take you out to dinner?”

Alexei looked at Snowy. At the way Snowy looked at him. “That sound like date,” he said cautiously.

“It can be.” Snowy paused, so nervous it broke Alexei’s heart. “If you want, that is.”

“I do. I do want. For long, long time.”

* * *

Two years later, or at least close enough to the two-year-anniversary of being more-than-friends, Dustin and Tater woke up in a Las Vegas hotel room that made Tater’s apartment look starkly minimalist by comparison.

Tater frowned at the ring on his left hand. Dustin had a matching one. “Not again…” Tater groaned.

“Viva Las Vegas,” Dustin muttered. It was about time he got accidentally married in Vegas, like so many other Falcs had. Tater had been through it twice already with Parson and Seguin (they really needed to not have the NHL awards in Vegas). “So, you know what to do about this?” 

“Da. We take care of before practice, easy-peasy.” 

Or not so easy-peasy, as it happened. The Aces’ lawyer, a fussy, grumpy little man, glared at them through big, round spectacles as he explained why—given that they freely admitted to engaging in intimate relations over the past two years—a nice, speedy annulment was not an option.

“It will have to be a divorce, which will take longer, which means more of my time that will be billed to the Falconers. Most teams have it set up so the fees can be deducted from your paycheck. Please note that I bill five hundred dollars hourly, and that—”

“No,” Dustin blurted out. In the silence that followed, he wondered what the hell had possessed him.

“No?” The lawyer’s gaze could have impaled butterflies to a mounting board. 

“No?” Tater just looked confused. And also a little sad. “But you always say you not want marriage, nyet? Is why you break up with Laurel. So we divorce.”

“Yeah, you’re right. No! Not about the divorce!” he said quickly, before Tater could look any more sad. “I mean about Laurel and why I broke up with her.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “While these soap opera dramatics are entertaining, gentlemen, I do have other business today…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, it took me a couple of years, but I finally figured it out.”

Tater raised an eyebrow. He looked as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. 

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be married. What I didn’t want was to be married to someone who isn’t my best friend. Who isn’t you.”

Tater’s smile started small, then bloomed across his face. He turned to the lawyer. “Never mind! We go!”

“Yes, yes, fine.” He shooed them off with a flick of his fingers. “Congratulations and so on, but please refrain from any celebratory fornication until you are off the premises.”

They hurried out past the line of other happy couples waiting to have their marriages annulled. Tater paused to fist-bump Bogrov, his good buddy on the Aces, who apparently had accidentally married one of the linesmen instead of his girlfriend. They also nodded hello to Marty and Guy, and said they’d tell the coach they might be a little late to practice.

“So, when do you want to tell the guys?” Dustin asked. 

Tater looked guilty. “I already tell them about accidental marriage.”

“What?!” 

“Not that we decide we stay married,” Tater hurried to explained, “but Parson tell Zimmboni about tradition Aces have—”

They entered the locker room just then, and Dustin learned the hard way that the Aces glitter-bombed players who got drunk-married for the first time.

He was still finding glitter in awkward places later that night, when he and most of the other Falcs were at Kent Parson and Jeff Troy’s place for a sudden but not-so-accidental wedding.

He enjoyed the ceremony, even though both grooms had crashed his net a total of four times during last night’s game and they were all in the middle of the goddamn Stanley Cup Finals. He would always remember how for a few blissful hours under the desert sky, it didn’t matter that they’d played a vicious game last night and would play another one tomorrow night. 

What he would remember most of all, though, was the way Parson and Troy couldn’t stop gazing into each other’s eyes as they recited their vows. It left him awestruck and reaching for Tater’s hand. From the way Tater squeezed his hand in return, Dustin knew he felt it, too. 

If that’s how he and Tater looked at each other, then why the hell had they taken so long to get their act together?

“Wanna join in?” he whispered to Tater. A number of other couples were taking advantage of Nevada’s marriage laws and the presence of an ordained Elvis impersonator to tie the knot or to renew their vows. “It kind of sucks that our friends weren’t at our first wedding, huh?”

Dustin wasn’t sure what he expected when Tater told the group that they were staying married and renewing their vows. Congratulations, for sure. Also chirping. Marty might take in and dole out cash as people collected and paid off wagers on their wedding. There might even be tears.

What he was not expecting was slack-jawed silence followed by “Wait, WHAT?”

“Uh, I don’t see what’s so surprising, guys. We’ve been dating for like two y—”

“You’re dating?!”

“TWO YEARS??”

As for poor Jack, he looked like someone had shorted his circuits.

“I think we forget to tell them,” Tater whispered.

“Whoops?”

The only one not surprised was Bitty, who gave the rest of the Falcs a gentle bless your hearts before turning back to him and Tater. 

“I think what they all meant to say is ‘congratulations.’ I don’t know why they’re so surprised. After all, anyone can see that the two of you are perfect together,” Bitty said. 

Other people had said that to him once, and it had felt like a life sentence. Now, though, it felt like freedom.

“Yeah,” he said. Dustin leaned up to peck his husband on the cheek. “It just took some of us longer to see that than others.”

[made-me-deep-blue]

mc x dark!mc - obsession

Word Count: 4573

Summary: Amy Ashryver has a one-on-one personal talk with her inner darkness after the Opera Hall Massacre, and finds herself torn between illusions and reality. 

Warning: TW, Heavy angst, teeny bit of fluff at the end, some spoilers if you are not caught up with BB3

Based on EXO’s Obsession: https://youtu.be/uxmP4b2a0uY

Tags list: @wildsayeed @kashikokawaii @iddevouryou @kamilahsayeed-owns-me @sayeedbound @lightning-fury @timetopartaay-waitno @hamiltonstorywriter @midnightstress

-

The door clicked shut as Amy closed the door to her room, Rheya already moving to her bedroom as the younger vampire slid her shoes off.

“You did wonderful today, my darling,” Rheya purred. A sight to behold, as expected of the Mother of Vampires, fully naked and drenched in blood. Amy merely spared an empty glance at the former priestess, before proceeding to shed off her blood-soaked clothes and wash it off in the bathroom.

Amy felt a hand tugging on her wrist but didn’t bother to respond to the touch. She didn’t feel like communicating with the world in general.

So she decided to send her words through her powers, a small whisper in Rheya’s mind. What is it?

“Is there something wrong, my dear?” Rheya might look and sound worried for her, but Amy knew she was nothing more than a woman who was isolated for over 3000 years and needed to understand how the current world runs.

She might have lost her betrothed long ago, and Amy is the descendant of her own daughter, but nothing could compare to the loss that now wrecked inside her vulnerable, vampire body. A large wound scored across her chest, Amy couldn’t tap on her well of emotions at the moment.

How did she felt? Sadness. Devastation. Hopelessness. An ale tankard’s worth of anger and rage. A whole universe’s worth of emptiness that could not be healed and filled up again.

Amy slowly eased Rheya’s hand off her wrist and gave an empty look to the naked woman on her bed, sending words through that bridge formed between them. I would like some time alone if you don’t mind. I need to clear my head.

Understanding filled Rheya’s eyes, and Amy tried her best to push past the guttered look in her predator-bright eyes. “As you wish, dear. I will be at my mansion if you need me.”

The amber-haired woman didn’t send words through her powers, instead ducking into her bathroom and braced her arms against the sink. When she raised her head to see her reflection in her mirror, she ran her red eyes over her face. Despite being nocturnal, the dark circles under her eyes weren’t doing it any justice, and her eyebrows just felt so heavy to even raise them.

Her amber coloured, messy half up-do was slightly unkempt and soaked with blood, along with the lower half of her face and nearly her whole body. As much as it smells more alluring than any wine, Amy felt like she wanted to puke right now. She needed to get all this blood off of her body, stat.

Then, she saw—thought she saw her reflection warp. Her hair was now moon-white, with two smaller braids with different lengths, which reminded her of a dreamcatcher’s feathers, tied at the left side of her head starting from above the shell of her ear. There was a strong hint of red and purple eyeshadow around her eyes, which brought them out more due to her pale complexion. On top of that, there was a chain that ran across her face and hung onto her ears and a scar down her right eye and a cut on her lower lip.

Despite not smiling herself, Amy’s reflection grinned wickedly, causing Amy’s eyes to widen.

Please stop it now

She shook her head and reopened her eyes, seeing herself in the mirror again. Not wanting to ‘hallucinate’ any further, she picked up the pace and turned on the hot water and let it seep into her skin, into her hair that would wash away the coppery tang of the blood and the slight stickiness on her pale skin.

Out of nowhere, she felt something—or someone, lurking in the bathroom. A presence, not a physical body.

As the night makes me blind

You snuck in again

A ghost of sinister chuckling followed. Amy wanted to believe that it was just her body’s response to being drained of all emotions in a single night. 

You lick around my ears while I’m asleep, stare,

Then you scratch and laugh

Amy watched the red of the blood cloud the clear water on the floor. Watched the colours swirl together, no doubt making her stand in a red sea of some sorts.

She heard it again.

That sinister chuckling, and what felt like a finger tracing her jawline from her back.

She shouldn’t be scared of it. That might be just amongst the chorus of voices in her head, lingering from the PTSD she had after she was killed. No—it was different. It sounded like her own voice, laughing softly behind her back.

Your voice whispers endlessly

Oh you’re the bad dream kill

Amy decided to scrub harder at her skin. As if the extra effort could erase all the events that had happened prior to coming back home. But no—it couldn’t. No matter how hard she scrubbed at her hair, her body, nothing could erase that beautiful face wrecked with sadness and devastation from her mind.

Those swirl of emotions couldn’t move past each other so Amy couldn’t remember who that painstakingly beautiful woman was. Her name…

Her name.

She felt her pent up anger building up and immediately clenched her fists tight and shut her eyes closed with that same pressure.

Deep breaths, Amy. Deep breaths. It’s okay, you’re going to be—

“…no, I’m not fine…” Her words were near guttural, feeling the pricking of her fangs on her lower lip. 

She felt something thicker than water trickling down her fingers, and that familiar coppery tangy scent filled the room. The skin at her nails knitted themselves back together, and the water washed the blood away as nothing happened.

Amy needed to get out of her apartment, stat.

You keep possessing and calling me

To come to where you are, yes to come to you

Stepping out of her immensely suffocating bathroom, Amy was relieved to notice Rheya’s absence, better without a powerful ancestor in her apartment, more specifically in her bedroom. Sliding open her wardrobe doors, she picked out a full monochrome ensemble; a dark grey turtleneck sweater, a black leather jacket, black skinny jeans and a pair of black vans. 

Once she was satisfied, Amy took a deep breath and stepped out of her windows, silent and unseen, leaping into the silent night.

You say you know me? (I don’t think so)

Who are you to snuggle in (I don’t think so)

You cover my eyes (I don’t think so)

You cover up the truths (I don’t think so)

It was definitely a hindrance when she awoke from the dead for barely a week and she had to race against two other experienced vampires by leaping from building to building, but now that it was becoming part of her daily routine, she became better at it. Using the momentum, she did flips between buildings and all sorts of stunts to get the energy out of her system.

Finding herself in the familiar path, Amy decided to head towards the building her heart desired. Not her mind. It definitely wasn’t in the right state to bear all of the pain she was going to feel once she reached. Don’t even mention her heart. Such a versatile organ but yet something so fragile.

Deciding that it wasn’t the best decision to break into the CEO’s office (yet), Amy landed to a stop on the rooftop of the Ahmanet Financial Building. The last time she was here, it was where she had taken the initiative to kiss that woman first. That woman, who was a tough shell to crack.

She who had decided to let her in of her own accord.

She…

Amy reached into her mind, struggling past the jumble of emotions and thoughts in her mind which was preventing her from thinking straight and have clearer thoughts—

Let go of the empty dreams (I don’t think so)

Don’t make me spit out the poison (I don’t think so)

You’ll never have me again (I don’t think so)

Shut up and go away

A wave of agony crashed into her head with turbulence. It seemed that whenever she tried to remember her name, all that would come out would be a headache, or worse, migraines. She had been lost in her emotions that she couldn’t remember who her significant other was.

Yes. She had been her lover. The love of her life. The one who had that tough eggshell to crack and finally let her in. The only human she’d ever accepted back then.

“Adrian finds solace in the company of others. I find it in solitude.”

Amy’s eyes drifted to the pool next to her.

“Swimming here alone, under the stars…it brings me peace.”

“But you invited me up here,” Amy pointed out.

Kamilah looked at the young woman pointedly, “So I did.”

Thousand nights, I repeated so many times

A vicious cycle of nightmares, I’ll end it now

As Amy stripped out of her clothes, she heard her own voice drift to her vampiric ears, with a heightened sense of hearing.

“Hey, Amy…”

The turned-off exit light

Get away from me now

The water lapped at her arms as she slowly sunk into the depths of the pool. She allowed the cool and calming waters to seep into her skin, the lazy waves of her amber hair. If only the memories could wash away just like the water does to Amy.

She knew she couldn’t turn back time. But her, with so much power, she should have that power to turn back time. Back to the first generation of Bloodkeepers, and end them. So that none of this would happen.

But yet…

I’m sick of it

“You try so hard to play the big, bad villain. But your heart’s never been in it, has it?”

Ha! It’s enough

All the gibberish on my ear Imma let it blow

She felt a hand on her bare shoulder, as if her own self was just right next to her ear, deftly speaking those words.

“People have hurt you, haven’t they? They didn’t believe in you… They didn’t trust you… didn’t need you… left you.”

Amy swivelled her head to hiss and bare her fangs, but only stopped to find the reflection of herself that she saw in the bathroom mirror smirking wickedly at herself.

My five senses are focused on it, on edge

You come in and stir it up recklessly

“But did you ever stop to think… ” Dark-Amy tapped her chin thoughtfully. “…maybe they’re not the problem?”

Sure, it was her fault. Her fault that Rheya had returned because of everything that had happened with Gaius. Her fault that she had to be Turned because she was so important to a vampire who had loved and lost so much that she couldn’t bear to lose Amy. Her fault that she had to be a Bloodkeeper and that only amplified her powers after she became a vampire—

Amy riled for a punch at her alternate self. “Stop…stop it!”

Her reflection rippled as Amy’s fist passed through, leaving a gaping hole through her chest, but the image shifted, stitching herself back together. 

Dark-Amy mused. “Whoa! I didn’t know that this would get a rise out of you, but still…”

Amy pulled back her hand, sinking further back into the water. “When Serafine told me that there was a darkness in me… it was you, wasn’t it?”

“I’m surprised that it took this long for you to find out, Amy,” Dark-Amy examined her midnight-black fingernails, clicking her tongue. “I guess now that we’re vampires, everything seems clearer, doesn’t it?”

When I fall asleep with one eye open

You permeate without a sound, the phantom

Amy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and eyed her alternate form. “What do you want from me?”

“While you tried to keep me low, I’ve obviously heard what you told Rheya and everything that had happened prior to us coming back to the apartment complex. I was just having my fun at the opera house when you and your doing-good decided to ruin the party.”

Amy only winced in return, then muttered, “I… I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Shadows curling around her body in tendrils, whisking away into the late night, Dark-Amy perched on top of one of the sun-tanning chairs along the edge of the pool and crossed her legs. “You just keep running away from reality, don’t you?” She sighed.

“There’s already one Rheya,” Amy grumbled. “We don’t need another one in New York City.”

I’m so sick and tired of it

When the light turns on, I hope you’re gone

“You, however,” Dark-Amy jutted a finger at Amy’s chest. “Are different from her. Because you are a do-gooder.”

“But—”

“Don’t you dare ‘but’ me, Ashryver,” Amy could see her dark self’s different coloured eyes; white on the right and the same cerulean blue of her own on the left. “We’re 23 years old and that beautiful hag is 3 centuries older than you. Of course you—we—can make a difference.”

You say it’s for me? (I don’t think so)

Who are you to snuggle in (I don’t think so)

Permeating deeply (I don’t think so)

I’m confused (I don’t think so)

“How?” Amy questioned.

Dark-Amy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, huffing. “Do I really need to tell you, Ames? You have to accept me in order to keep moving on.”

The darkness. That was what she meant.

Amy swallowed past the lump that was formed in her throat. She knew what would happen if she’d succumb to the darkness that was lying dormant inside of her. That woman had told her of the countless horrors that she had to undergo because of the darkness that blinded her and soaked her in the blood which could metaphorically not be washed away.

What would happen to her if she were to do the same? Would she be the same person the others had seen her before Rheya came along and manipulated them at her whims?

“I just don’t know if I’m capable enough to do so,” Amy shrugged. She disappeared beneath the shimmering surface and reappeared a few metres away from the edge where she was sitting at with Dark-Amy. She slicked back her hair with a hand. “After all, I’m pretty much a baby still in vampire years. Most of my heart is still human.”

Take whatever (I don’t think so)

Don’t even be seen (I don’t think so)

You’ll never have me again (I don’t think so)

Stop your obsession

The shadows curling around Dark-Amy’s body twisted and receded, somehow as if in amusement. She stood up from her seat and walked across the surface of the water, before dropping to sit with her legs underneath her.

“You doubt yourself too much,” she scoffed, cracking her white coloured eye open. “I bet you hadn’t review what amazing shit you did in this past year after dragging yourself into this rabbit hole.”

Amy and the others had found the truth of who was behind the increase of Feral attacks last summer. She and the crew managed to beat the shit out of Gaius into the new Tree of Eternal Life. And also defeated a rogue group of vampires who were terrorizing both humans and vampires alike.

That was indeed a lot that she had managed to accomplish in almost a year, but it…didn’t feel enough to feel like it was a big deal.

Dark-Amy raised her hands in defence. “I’m not as bad as you would portray me to be, I’m not all those power-hungry bitches like a certain old hag we know. I’m part of you, which means your do-good would influence what I do as well.”

Thousand nights, I repeated so many times

A vicious cycle of nightmares, I’ll end it now

Amy chuckled softly, eyeing her duplicate. “Really?”

She groaned. “Spare me from the doing-good part please, it doesn’t go well with my personality and fashion choice, talk about resume too.”

“Like I will, you’re pretty unwilling.”

Dark-Amy’s lip ring glistened under the moonlight, small chains dangling from the rings. “Why did Adrian even hire you as his assistant where you could be a comedian like that comedian-turned-scriptwriter…what was his name again?”

Amy rolled her eyes in amusement. “Seth Levine?”

“Ah, yes,” Dark-Amy said. “But you get what I mean.”

The light version of herself looked away and stared at the horizon beyond these tall city buildings of New York. Of what it could be if everything was resolved. If everyone wasn’t under Rheya’s control, and most importantly, in her advantage.

“But…” Amy contemplated. “It feels like it’s a lot to take in. I’ve never let the darkness take over me like that. I’ve already heard countless stories of other people sharing to me their experiences. Makes my skin crawl.”

Dark-Amy laughed gruffly, before ruffling the top of Amy’s wet hair. “You’re just making excuses.”

The turned-off exit light

Get away from me now

Amy chuckled softly, a small smile tugging at the end of her lips. “You really aren’t that evil, a broody duplicate of me, huh?”

The white-haired woman mimicked barfing, smacking Amy’s bare back. “Please don’t. And also can you please get back into your clothes? You’re gonna catch a cold and we’re gonna be one step behind in trying to stop Rheya.”

After much convincing, Amy was dried off with one of the towels lying behind the bar and back into her dry clothes and standing next to her supposed ‘evil’ doppelganger. Both of them stared down at the New York City nightlife. 

“So you’ve been lying in all of the Bloodkeepers of all of my ancestors?”

“Pretty much,” Dark-Amy had her arms dangling over the railings. “I would only be awakened if any of them happened to be Turned into vampires, which in that case, didn’t happen until you. You’re the first Bloodkeeper to be Turned.”

“That’s why when my blood and hers fused…”

“You became Rheya’s equal,” Dark-Amy finished her sentence. “That’s why she wanted you specifically out of your quintet. She keeps saying you’re special, it’s because you’re her equal.”

That darkness. The one standing right next to her, it also blinded Rheya and thus straying her from the path to justice when she had claimed that she didn’t want to rule as a Goddess over Mydiea just as how the late King Kaelisus did. In the end, she still did, until her demise in what would be formally known as the Tomb of the First.

“If you accept me,” Dark-Amy said, still looking down at the streets. “Your mind will be cleared and you’ll be able to remember things… the people whom you deeply care for.”

That beautiful woman crossed her mind again. But without a headache this time.

Amy turned to face Dark-Amy squarely with resolution. Without hesitation.

“Alright, I’ll accept you.”

“Good, then take my hand.”

The shadows coiling and shifting around her arm seemed to grow stronger as Amy reached her hand forward. “Remember, relax as I merge myself with you. If you happen to hesitate or lose focus, I would only feed on your fear, anger and… you know the consequences already.”

Amy didn’t need her to mention it twice. She’d heard enough.

“Alright, then hang on tight, me.”

Blacken my heart,

Creepin’ dark night,

Stainin’ my soul

When I open my eyes like yet I’m still asleep,

Amy felt overwhelmed immediately as her darkness converged on her senses like a stampede, but there was a constant calm presence, probably from her doppelganger, soothing her nerves as the process took place. 

She could feel the dark aura coiling around her limbs, her torso, its tendrils an anchor to hold her down. Then, the change came. She felt it; in the roots of her hair, the muscles in her body, and her five senses all returning, but clearer.

Amy was then brought to a white coloured space, with Dark-Amy on her opposite end, shadows curling in tendrils off her body as usual. 

There were images—memories—floating around them. Her memories, all from the day where Amy had first met Adrian Raines for the job interview. And there was her first meeting… with what would be the former Council members, Lester Castellanos, and her.

Amy still couldn’t bring herself to remember her name.

“Your emotions are still in the way of your memories,” Dark-Amy’s voice echoed, but yet she didn’t speak verbally. “Allow me to resolve that for you.”

Amy closed her eyes and braced herself for the impending wave of darkness that came at her.

The sudden goosebumps and its clear traces,

And the names on the ground that are owned by no one

Call out, dance tonight

Say it what you like

She felt a dark presence worming into her head again, and a memory flashed before her eyes.

Amy was back in the conference room again, and she peered into the box that held two gifts from Adrian to his fellow Council members. She picked up the bejewelled scarab and faced toward the woman.

Then, the words just rolled off her tongue of familiarity.

“This scarab is for Kamilah Sayeed.”

The image shifted again.

The times we were

Happy together, I know

They were in Kamilah’s apartment, with the former carrying Amy in her arms in a spin as they laughed happily. As they slowed down, they came together in a passionate kiss as Kamilah dipped her low, when Amy noticed the gleaming bands on each of their left ring fingers.

This wasn’t a memory. This was a vision of the future.

I have to end them now

Forget everything yeah

God before she could even relish herself in the small moment of happiness, she was wrenched back to reality again.

As the blinding light receded, her first instinct was to reach her lower lip, where the cold metal of Dark-Amy’s lip ring laid pierced through her flesh. A hand through her hair confirmed that it was not her amber-coloured hair but moon-white instead. And her sleeves and pants definitely felt tighter than before. Must be the increase in muscle definition.

She also felt much looser than she was an hour ago. No more strained muscles, tight knots in her back. No more migraines and headaches.

It all happened in a blink, barely giving her any time to react.

As her hand reached out to catch a familiar ornate dagger which whirred towards her back.

Amy’s eyes sank into the intricate patterns of the metal hilt, as they disappeared into the silver blade. The ruby engraved on top of the hilt gleamed under the moonlight as she ran the cold, sharpened blade along her tongue, spinning on one heel to face the owner of the dagger.

Lavender, laced with cedarwood. That was what her scent was. She committed it to memory, ever since she was Turned. She took advantage of her heightened sense of smell to commit her beloved’s scent to memory. It was engraved in her mind.

“Amy?” 

You say you know me? (I don’t think so)

Who are you to snuggle in (I don’t think so)

You cover my eyes (I don’t think so)

You cover up the truths (I don’t think so)

Kamilah Sayeed’s hostile expression immediately morphed into that of wariness, disbelief and shock. “I heard a faint heartbeat from my office and footsteps as well. I thought it was an intruder, considering it being out in the open, but I didn’t expect it to be you.”

Amy chuckled, tossing her now white hair behind her shoulder as she flicked her wrist where her hand held the dagger. It was as if her dark counterpart was taking the reins of her body. Since she trusted her from the conversation they’ve had and how tired she was, Amy trusted her to take over for a while.

“You shouldn’t be here, Kamilah,” sadness and fatigue filtered into her tone. “Not after what happened tonight.”

“I’m real, Amy. I’m here.”

Let go of the empty dreams (I don’t think so)

Don’t make me spit out the poison (I don’t think so)

You’ll never have me again (I don’t think so)

Shut up and go away

Amy shook her head. “How am I supposed to know that you’re being manipulated by her?” She lied. “How am I supposed to know that you worship me more than you do to her?”

Kamilah Sayeed wasn’t with her. She clearly saw and felt what happened at the opera house. Amy nearly puked while remembering the sea of crimson red which coated the seats and the stage and basically…everywhere.

Even if she could still feel the long years of Kamilah’s life still wrapped around her.

Thousand nights, I repeated so many times

A vicious cycle of nightmares, I’ll end it now

Kamilah opened her arms. “That’s for you to find out.”

The turned-off exit light

Get away from me now

“No, no, no, no, no…” Amy felt her chest starting to get tighter, her breath coming in short as she tried to stabilise herself. “No… you aren’t real. I saw what happened… I killed everyone, because… no…” A growl escaped her throat as she struggled to fight back her tears.

Amy suddenly hated the way that sadness and pain, filled her hazel brown eyes. She should be the one feeling those. She was sure she didn’t see things.

She was still hyperventilating, murmuring under her breath still as she hurriedly turned on her heel to leap off the rooftop, but a pair of strong arms managed to hold her in place.

There was that scent again. Intoxicating and inviting.

“Get…away…from me,” Amy resisted, growling through gritted teeth. “Get…away from me!”

Kamilah still didn’t let go as Amy thrashed harder this time, bellowing.

“Let me go!”

One night what I saw in the darkness

Was the strange shadow that chased me after

“Amy!” She heard her darkness calling out to her in her ears, ringing like church bells. “You have to stop resisting. I already ran my aura over her, and she’s here for good, not under Rheya’s orders!”

No… I know how Rheya hides the fact that she manipulates people. Kamilah died right in front of my eyes. This… this isn’t real, it must be a ruse to get me sabotaged.

“Please, Amy, habibti,” Kamilah whispered softly into Amy’s hair. “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. Please… “

“Amy, you have to listen to her. I already know that she’s speaking the truth, now it’s just you who has to believe her.”

The turned-on exit light

It’s me looking at myself in the mirror

Hot tears were already streaming down Amy’s cheeks as she thrashed and screamed in Kamilah’s arms, with the latter’s cheek pressed to the top of Amy’s head with her eyes closed.

As if she already knew that everything would be okay.

Get away from me

“Get away from me!” Amy screamed, her voice rasping with a choked sob. “Please… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Nonsense, you would never,” Kamilah said. “Because you know who you care for, Amy Ashryver.”

Disappear

Her full name seemed to awaken her, as her screams and cries of protest slowly died down, sinking slowly into the older woman’s arms.

Get away from me

As she broke down completely into Kamilah Sayeed’s embrace.

[dresupi]

For: @sansaastaerk Prompt: Aren't you gonna unwrap your gift? Ship: Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy

Rated E, under the cut

Other tags: Established Relationship, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Couch Sex, Mentions of Past Fertility Issues, Pregnancy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

She plopped the gift in his lap, and Theon nearly spilled his coffee all over himself, grunting at the weight of it. It was vaguely round and heavier than it looked.

“What’d you get me? A cannonball?” he asked. A bit of an overstatement, it was likely only a couple of pounds.

Sansa simply smirked. “I dunno. Guess you’ll have to open it and find out.”

He took a long sip from his coffee and set it on the table in front of him, setting to work unwrapping this gift that had his girl looking so smug and pleased with herself.  Theon was unable to really imagine what she could have possibly gotten him. Especially since the only thing he could think about wanting was sitting primly to his right, waiting for him to tear the paper off of whatever this was.

The paper was green and shiny. Foil of some kind, and it was difficult to get a grip on it to rip it. And then once he did, it didn’t really rip, just squeaked under his fingers until he could slide under the tape and undo it.

It came open easily then, revealing a blob wrapped in more wrapping paper.

He smirked and looked up at her, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’ve just wrapped something really small in tons of paper, haven’t you?” he asked, picking up the gift and turning it in his hands.

She nudged his knee with her foot and giggled. “Aren’t you going to unwrap your gift?”

Sighing, he started in on the thing in earnest.  He tore red paper, gold paper, paper with little pink stars, a layer of newspaper, and about twelve more layers of different wrapping paper off the blob.  All he had to show for it was a slightly smaller blob and a pile of brightly coloured paper all around him.

“If there’s one more layer on this thing, you’re going to start taking off layers as well,” he teased, to which Sansa reached up for her dressing-gown-covered shoulder and tugged it down to seductively show off her flannel pyjamas.

“I’m only partly joking,” he said with a laugh, ripping the newest layer of paper. “I’m liable to lose interest…”

“In a gift?” she asked, joining him in a laugh.

“The only thing I’d like to unwrap is you,” he replied, the last words coming out a bit more raw than he was expecting for so early in the morning. But he shouldn’t be surprised. She sometimes got home late at night and he could rally for a shag at three in the morning.  Why should nine-thirty be any different?

He tossed the paper on the floor and Sansa reached for the belt on her dressing gown, untying it and slipping the floral jacquard off her shoulders and over the arm of the sofa.

They’d been somewhat friskier as of late. Mostly because they’d been trying for damn near a year and a half to have a baby, only to have the doctor tell them to stop trying so hard, it was only putting undue pressure on the both of them.

So they’d stopped fucking on a schedule and gone back to fucking when they wanted.

Theon wasn’t sad to see the calendar with the red circled days go. Not that he didn’t absolutely love the process of trying, he was starting to feel like a stud service. He couldn’t imagine Sansa felt any different.

So it was nice to get back to this again. He ripped off another layer of paper.

The next two layers only got rid of her socks, but the one after that got her to shimmy out of her pyjama bottoms. The next one got her knickers to slide down her legs, onto one foot, where she flipped them into his lap. They weren’t his favorites, but a close second.  Blue lace with a little heart cutout.

Theon wasn’t even paying attention to the gift in his lap anymore.  He was just ripping paper and watching Sansa slowly unbutton her shirt and toss it across the floor.  He dumped the gift on the coffee table and crawled down the sofa towards her. Her legs looked miles long, and he wanted to kiss every inch of them and the place where they met too.

“Aren’t you going to unwrap your gift?” she giggled as he sucked soft kisses up the inside of her calf, towards her knee.

“You did it for me,” he rumbled against her skin, bending her knee and moving up her inner thigh. She extended her leg again, propping it on the back of the sofa as he reached the apex of her thighs, nuzzling against her sex and running his tongue through her folds.

She felt only slightly damp under his tongue, but that didn’t last long. He moved one hand up her body, fingers skimming her skin until he reached her breast. He flicked his thumb over the tip of her nipple, gently swirling it until he felt it pebble. Sansa squirmed beneath him, sighing as he flattened his tongue against her, gliding along her pussy until he reached her clit.

Repeating the action, he could feel her start to rock against him, could feel the pulse in her sex as he reached her clit.

She tasted tangy and feminine, her scent almost overwhelming him with desire. His cock stiffened rapidly. Every second felt like hours as he slowly teased her. It got to the point where he was pretty sure the slickness he was tasting was from her and her alone.  It was at that precise moment that he switched things up a bit, swirling his tongue against her nub and sucking on it softly.

Bucking against his mouth, her hand clamped down on the back of his head. “Fuck… gods, Theon.”

He rutted against the couch cushions, his erection reaching that critical point where it couldn’t get any harder, so it started leaking from the tip. He could feel the head of his cock sliding against the inside of his pants with every movement.

Moaning softly, he doubled down on her clit. Swirling and sucking and wriggling until she let out two gasps of air, followed by his name, hissed into the silence of the room while she held him in place, quaking and quivering while he slowly began to wind her down.

When he looked up at her, he could feel how sweaty his face was. How wet his mouth and chin were with her.  Sansa was beautifully flushed and panting, one hand still stroking through his curls while the other was lying alongside her head.

“Gods,” she repeated. “You’re going to kill me.”

He grinned up at her, pushing up on his hands and knees so he could crawl towards her. “Surely not…” Whatever cunning quip he’d been planning was lost when she yanked the front of his t-shirt, as effective a way at silencing him as any.

She kissed him greedily, her tongue licking along his lips and cleaning them off. Fuck if every single thing this woman did wouldn’t get his engine purring.

His own kisses felt sloppy, given how tingly his lips and tongue were, but Sansa didn’t seem to mind. He felt her leg wrap around his waist. The one that was propped on the back of the sofa.  She flexed slightly, pulling him in.  He could feel her heat through his pyjama bottoms. His cock twitched and he fumbled with the drawstring so he could pull himself out.

She wasn’t helping things along at all, with all her breathy moaning and the sweet tug of her teeth on his earlobe.

His breath hitched when she finally reached down to help.  She dragged his pyjamas down over his hips and his cock sprung free against her. The tip was slippery wet as he jutted against the juncture of her hip and thigh, leaving a trail of his arousal behind.

Her hand closed around him, gently sliding up and down the length while every word he tried to speak got garbled in the process of saying it.

“Fucking hell, Sans…” was all he could manage, his hips rocking into her hand while she cooed in his ear.

“Gods, you’re so hard, Theon… does it ache? Does it feel good when I touch it?”

“Fuck yes…” The words extended, like an exhale more than a curse.

He could feel the pressure bunching in his gut. Tugging at his spine and forcing his hips to buck towards her.

She guided him to her folds, sliding the head of his cock through the slickness still gathered there. A combination of her and him, his tongue tingled at the memory as she released him and he slid fully inside.

Sansa made these cute little grunting sounds when he fucked her.

Those sounds were one of his favorite things. Them, and how she clenched her pussy around him like she was trying to break off his cock and take it with her.

This time, though, she wasn’t grunting. She was talking.

And the way she was talking never failed to fucking liquify him.

“You feel so good, Theon…” she arched her back, jutting her breasts towards his as his hips made contact once more. “So fucking good, you’re so good…”

“Sansa…” he replied. “Sansa…” His thrusting sped up, and he wasn’t sure if it was him or if it was her legs wrapped around his waist, but he was barreling towards a very quick orgasm if he didn’t slow up soon.

Her walls clamped down and he had to fight to keep his eyes open.

“Gods, your cock is perfect,” she murmured, one hand reaching down between them to touch herself, except he had enough wits about him to bat her hand away.

“I can do it,” he grunted, noting her amused smile as he rolled his thumb over her clit, his rhythm never ceasing until he saw her eyes close and felt her start to flutter around him, a moan seemed to wrench itself from her so very composed face, sounding a little like his name, but it was too spent to make much sense.

He didn’t care, he was already speeding up, chasing his own release and jolting in surprise when he didn’t have to go far to find it.

Theon didn’t want to think about what he looked like at that moment, surely not as beautiful as she did. Probably like a gawping fish or something, shaking through a quickly overwhelming orgasm while he emptied himself into her.

He collapsed against her, his head pillowed by her breasts as he panted through the aftermath, sliding his softening cock out of her and watching almost languidly as his spend dribbled out onto the throw blanket.

“Think we did it that time?” she asked, sounding breathless as he pushed up on shaky arms so he didn’t crush her beneath him. “Did you put a baby kraken in me, Theon?”

He huffed out a laugh and sat back on the sofa, shifting to push his pyjamas and pants fully onto the floor. “I dunno, you feel it clawing around in there yet?”

She half-heartedly kicked him and pushed up to crawl towards him. “Do you think you’d know if you did?”

He snorted out half a laugh and pulled her into his arms. “I doubt I’d know until you told me otherwise. But hey, don’t worry about that, right?”

She snuggled up against him and exhaled deeply. “Right.”

They lay there for a few moments, the sweat cooling on their skin as their breathing returned to normal.  Or at least, his did. Sansa seemed nervous, her heartbeat fluttering against his chest until she sat up and reached for his partially opened gift. “Aren’t you going to open this?”

He chuckled and reached for it. He tore off more and more paper until nothing remained but a very small box. Not too small, actually. It was about the size of a postcard. And light as hell. He wondered what she could have possibly gotten him that weighed so little.

Unless it was tickets to something. Theon couldn’t think of anywhere he’d like to go, or any event he’d like to see, but he pulled the lid off the box just the same.

A picture.

Of her hand holding something.

He frowned and pulled it out, his eyes seeing what was there and still not believing it until he looked up at her.

“Two lines means…”

“It means I’m pregnant.”

“You are,” he said, his heart racing like mad as he stared down at the two purple lines on the white stick in the photograph Sansa was holding. “You’re… We’re… You are?”

“I am.” She was nervously fidgeting and chewing on her lip, practically bouncing in her seat and it suddenly clicked.

“I’m gonna be a Papa?” he whispered, a smile tugging at his lips before he turned towards her and hugged her so tightly she squealed.

“Oh…” he released her immediately. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t… no, that’s silly. I couldn’t… I…”

“I need more sentence structure to understand you completely, but no, you can’t squeeze the baby out of me like that, and yes, you’re going to be a Papa.” She looked positively radiant. Why hadn’t he noticed that glow in her cheeks before?

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss her soundly.

“I love you too.”

“When we tell the little one about this day, I’m going to be wearing more clothes in my retelling.”

“Me too,” Sansa giggled. “But that’s a long way away, so…”

“So…”

“Fancy another go?”

“Always,” he murmured, meeting her lips and allowing her to pull him back down on the sofa.

[piratequeenofpixies]

Cafe Test Tag Game

Thanks for the tag, @writingonesdreams! (At long last I can post this! It’s taken far longer than I ever would have imagined (O_O) I’m sorry for taking so long!)

1. Did they get a cafe they liked? What kind of cafe do they like? What does that say about their character?

Embyr is satisfied with the cafe, yes, but she would prefer to get something from the castle kitchens. The cafe is a small, homey room, a corner shop she and Garan visit when they have the time. The owner is a heavyset, widowed matron with a love for all types of brews: teas, coffees, and every other kind of drink you can think of. Her daughter acts as barista and waitress, supplementing her mother’s beverages with her own sweet treats. Embyr’s relationship with this place--one of satisfaction and a willingness to please another (specifically a loved one) rather than love for the place itself--emphasizes her close relationship with her brother, since she puts his desires above hers. It also shows that she has distanced herself from her people, a tell-tale sign that not all is as it should be.

Garan is very satisfied with the cafe... ;) The atmosphere is warm and homey and the barista thinks he’s cute and doesn’t mind letting him know, so...  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This points to his slight vanity and fondness for flirtation and pretty girls (he’s a very out-going person).

Ragnar isn’t happy anywhere there’re people, to be honest, but given he requires sustenance, and the nearest tavern is closed for the night, this will have to do. He would much prefer the tavern’s darker, cloudier atmosphere, however: it helps him to remain inconspicuous. This points to a selfish, non-interactive disposition and shady dealings.

Aidan would prefer a tavern since teas and pastries aren’t really his thing, but it’ll do in a pinch. He’s a very private, practical person, after all.

2. Where do they sit? (Near the door because there’s an exit? Near the back to hide? Where it’s shadowy? Where they’ll be seen by a waiter? Lots of table space for writing/drawing/hands? Minimal space? Would they ever sit with others? What do these things say about their character?)

Embyr sits near the window to have a view of the shops across the street, allowing her to avoid most interactions with other customers. “Their” table has plenty of floor space for any purchases she has made. While she would sit elsewhere or even sit with others if Garan really wanted to, she prefers to sit, just the two of them, at their usual spot. These seemingly small choices exhibit her relationship with Garan and her own unwillingness to interact with her people--a result of a sorry distance between them.

Garan prefers to sit in the center of the room, surrounded by tables full of people on all sides. Social butterfly in full, he loves to interact with others and especially desires to cultivate his relationship with his people as their prince and future king. He does, however, acquiesce to Embyr’s desire to sit by the front window, limiting interaction to three sides rather than four, in understanding of her introverted nature. (He sees and notices far more than she gives him credit for, and possibly more than she would like.) This points to his generous and sympathetic nature as a people-pleaser.

Ragnar chooses to sit in the farthest corner from the counter and fireplace. This area is dimmer and more heavily shadowed, hiding the fact that there is a back door with a “STAFF ONLY” sign that leads to a back alley and the kitchen through a narrow hallway. (He uses it anyway, in case you were wondering, and no, he doesn’t work there.) He never invites or allows anyone to sit with him. All of this is evidence of his loner nature, not to mention his distrust and disgust for others.

Aidan would probably prefer to sit by the exit himself, but if Jess (his wife) is present, then he (wisely lol) keeps his mouth shut--she always likes to sit by a window. He does this out of love of and devotion for her. :) <3

3. What do they order? (Is it sweet? Is it focused on hydration only? Is it expensive? (Can they afford it if it is?) Is it milky and warm? Is it to wake them up? To comfort them like a hot cocoa? Does it bring back memories? Do they get a drink connected to other people in their lives?)

Embyr orders the same drink every time: a sweet and tangy bellflower tea, chilled, with a strawberry scone on the side. It is moderately priced; even most of the lower class could afford it every once in a while. She finds the tea refreshing on a warm summer day, but other than that there really no reason for her to get it. It’s just her favorite.

Garan orders the somewhat-bitter blend of ground, roasted whitegrass in milk. He likes it hot and steaming (“A little like me,” he jokes). The strong flavor brings back memories of his mother tucking him into bed every night before she died, always with a roaring fire or lit candle and a steaming mug of whitegrass to savor. This points to his strong connection to his family and his sentimental attachment to the same, even those no longer living, not to mention his willingness to “lower” himself to others’ level (whitegrass is a food staple--he could have anything and he chooses to have what the commoners have).

Ragnar plans to orders whitegrass-in-milk blend but at the last moment changes his order to bellflower tea, which he’s never before tasted. He is pleasantly surprised that such a delicious concoction could come out of Lyssany (which he hates for various reasons) and orders some for the road as well.

Aidan orders whitegrass in milk with a dash of coffinberry juice--clear, flavorless liquid similar to our caffeine--to keep him awake. He watches carefully to ensure his drink isn’t poisoned, even though he knows such measures really aren’t necessary. It’s a habit he can’t seem to break.

4. If they get a snack, what do they get? (See above for similar questions to ask. Another good one is: Are they allergic to anything? Are there health concerns? Do they have to worry about their digestion for any reason? Or is their stomach made of steel?)

Embyr orders a strawberry scone drizzled with rich, sweet, maple syrup-y icing, still warm from the oven. Such scones were the first thing she ever tried at the cafe, and they have always been her go-to comfort food--even when the castle kitchens are open.

Garan gets...more whitegrass! He’s definitely a snacker and loves pretty much everything whitegrass, so roasted whitegrass heads (it’s a kind of grain in case I didn’t mention that already) are always on the menu. They’re also very filling; travelers often prepare and carry them. Garan’s consistency in this matter points to his reliability in other matters, too.

Ragnar gets roasted whitegrass heads--they have the most nutritional value despite being sold as a “light snack” and any he doesn’t eat now can be ground into flour later or taken on the road as they are.

Aidan doesn’t get anything--he’s not really a snacker but rather prefers to limit his (solid) intake to three square meals a day.

5. How do they pay? (Are they rich? Poor? Do they count their pennies or do they throw a whole bunch of gold on the table? Or are they rich and stingy, counting their pennies because that’s how they got rich in the first place? Do they run out without paying? Do they not [care] about the law? Are they desperate for a feed and want to pay but just can’t?)

Embyr usually lets Garan pay; she has plenty of money in her purse, of course, but Garan likes to order and she does not. (It involves talking to the barista, whom Embyr dislikes for her blatant flirtation with Garan. He’s friendly but not interested.)

Garan usually pays for his sister and/or any friends present; again, he is very generous. He is careful not to pay too much--not that that’s much of a problem, between his inexpensive tastes and plentiful funds--but tips freely, having an acute knowledge of the price of living in the Silver City he calls home.

Ragnar pays stingily, definitely. He’s used to scrimping here and there.

Aidan pays the appropriate amount with a strictly proper tip--his funds are not as limitless as they used to be.

6. How do they interact with staff? (No eye contact? Lots of smiles? Friendly banter? Awkward conversation?)

Embyr avoids contact with the staff when possible, but smiles stiffly and makes eye contact when necessary. She has gotten very good at faking interest--too good, sometimes--and therefore gets away with her rather rude demeanor. Again, this is an example of the wide distance between Embyr and her people, although her people have nothing to do with it: Embyr brought it all upon herself.

Garan loves people! So much! He’s always waving people over and smiling a lot and chatting up strangers just because, well, they’re people, aren’t they? (Seriously, can you tell how much I love this guy? He’s my fave.) Of course, this is further evidence of his strong relationship with and connection with his people (and people in general).

Ragnar avoids any and all interaction other than the bare minimum required to order. This causes him to come across as strange and intimidating in a peaceful land where friendliness is valued above caution.

Aidan is polite but reserved, drawing on the behavior drilled into him as a child to get him through most “professional” human interaction.

I’m tagging @scripturientworld, @alessia-writes, @clarissalopeswriter, and @lemonayyyyyde! (Feel free to ignore.)

Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day!

[asteralpine]

soft q&a tag that I love?

tagged by @moonsnail

What’s the smell of your shampoo?

Wait, I didn’t change @moonsnail’s answer for this one. I don’t know? It’s kind of clean and tangy? Not too sweet or highly-scented. I like it.

What’s your aesthetic?

My ideal aesthetic is boho hippie witch like Misty Day but my actual day-to-day aesthetic is “immature kid trapped in the body of an adult hoarder”.

What’s your favorite time of the day and why?

It honestly depends. During the work week, I fucking love about 4-5 PM, when I’m heading out to my car. I’ve put in my day’s work and now I’m heading home to do leisurely stuff. On the weekend or days where I’m not working, I love about 9-10 AM, where the sun is streaming through the windows and there’s still lots of promise left in the day.

What do you most like about the beach?

I like sitting at the edge of the water and watching the waves roll in and out. The few times that I’ve been to the beach, I’ve enjoyed digging out handfuls of sand where the waves keep wetting the sand and watching those little shelled guys (tiiiiiiny crabs? I once knew the names, but I can’t remember) dig themselves deeper. I also like gathering shells and looking for bones. I don’t love finding dead creatures, but...they’re really interesting to look at.

What do you worry about constantly?

Money and the future. What can I say? I’m a millennial. My brain often conjures up ridiculous worst-case scenarios where I lose my loved ones, but I’m getting better at dealing with those thoughts and pushing them away. Financial instability is a more pressing threat.

What is a song you’ve cried to before?

Self-Conclusion by Nick Thomas/The Spill Canvas. I listened to TSC in high school while I was dealing with some suicidal ideation, but the song never really clicked for me. In college (as I was coming out the other side of that depression), my sister got us tickets to go see The Spill Canvas in person and they played that song and the lyrics finally made sense. It was like a catharsis for me? A few years later, my sister and I were at a Nick Thomas show and part of me wanted to hear Self-Conclusion again but I figured I wouldn’t, since it was just him. Sure enough, a few songs before the end of the show, he played it again.

What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

Make lists. Use calendars. In October, leading up to my wedding, I started to get really stressed and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff I had to do, until I wrote out my big meetings/obligations on my big desk calendar at work and realized it wasn’t as bad as I was thinking.

What are some things that make you tear up?

When I was a kid, my mom cried at almost everything. It was super bewildering to me. Now that I’m grown, I’m the same way. Commercials make me tear up. Thinking about my friends and loved ones can make me tear up. Remembering my damn wedding. Thinking about how happy I am at this point in my life. 

What is your favorite from each sense?

sight - My cat sleeping on the couch next to me. She just stretches out and falls right asleep because she feels safe and protected. 

smell - Coffee. (I think I like smelling coffee even more than drinking it.)

taste - Ohh, this is difficult. Right now, I’ll say watermelon ice pops?

sound - Crickets in the nighttime.

touch - My husband playing with my hair or rubbing my back.

What is an alternative reality you’ll like to live in?

One where capitalism doesn’t run the world? Or one where witchy powers are a thing. 

What are some troubles you face on a daily basis?

I feel like my executive function needs a lot of work. Or I’m just fucking lazy. It’s a real problem for me.

What is one scene from a book that makes you really sad? 

Not a full scene, really, but the few lines near the end of Deathly Hallows where Tonks and Lupin are still reaching for the other’s hands in death? That’s the point in every reread where I start crying in earnest and don’t stop until I reach the nightmare of an epilogue.

Say something to your followers?

Hey. Thanks for taking this journey with me. We don’t talk much but it’s really cool that you’re here. 

tagging  @eroticjellyfish, @poptabprincess, @toptiertrash, @akinaichan, @envysnest, @toughiespeaks, @reincarnatedsoul, @reservoircat, ummm and anyone and everyone else? If you want me to tag you officially, send me a message or something and I will, but I think everyone should feel able to do these things when they see them! (Also if anyone’s found a cool handwriting meme, tag me or send it to me or something because I wanna write some things out by hand!)

[matchstickwords]

a/b/o Masterlist

Read the tags/warnings once you click on the link. Includes Heat/Mpreg adjacent stuff and playmating stuff (of the real and fake type) 

IN: incomplete CO: complete

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Small town blues series by Rhiw (21,781 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Nancy and Steve break up before Tina's party. Steve finds himself on the rebound, damned and determined to have some fun. Billy just wants to get laid.

Aka: The ABO of Stranger Things no one asked for. Written while drunk, with drunk characters, and lots of angst and smut and shit. Enjoy.

Don’t belong to anyone (else) by Sparkleeye   (11443 words. IN) Alpha Steve

And he does, just Billy’s fucking luck, because Harrington licks his lips and hoarsely goes, “I fucking knew it, fuck Hargrove, you’re in heat.”

He shudders as Harrington takes a step towards him. The tangy, warm scent of alpha has him struggling to stand upright, already slipping into the too far gone state and it’s fucking Harrington’s fault because he still won’t leave.

Better yet, he knows, he can smell the sweetness of omega, particularly herbal and saccharine like lavender and vanilla - Billy knows he smells like a girly little candle, okay - flooding the air between them. He could push Billy over and take him there, on the floor, push his face down onto the cracked, dusty concrete and fuck him stupid.

aka -- Billy is a stubborn idiot and goes to school during his heat.

More than instincts by Morganadelacour ( 2022 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Billy is looking for his sister but instead finds Steve Harrington in full heat, so he helps him out. However, things get more complicated afterwards.

This spell I’m under might last by Universealternating (1810 words. CO) Alpha Billy

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here!” Tommy exclaimed, jerking the door open. He didn’t say anything after that, probably sizing Steve up and trying to figure things out.

“I’m in heat.” Steve admitted, not looking at Tommy.

“Aw, jeez.” Tommy said with a sigh. “Alright, alright. Guess I can just call and try to explain it to Carol from your place?” Tommy grinned but it didn’t really reach his eyes.

What a wicked game(s) series by ToAStranger, Brawlite (125,823 words. IN) Alpha Billy, Alpha Steve.

Billy knew Steve Harrington would ruin him. Steve knew Billy Hargrove was nothing but trouble.

They never expected it to end up like this.

Oh to be young (and greek) series by Hoppnhorn (9771 words. IN) Omega Billy, Omega Steve

Billy rushes Steve's fraternity and gets in, which sucks, only when it doesn't. Drunk Steve has a hard time staying away from what isn't good for him.

Turn me loose by Hoppnhorn (3321 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Billy is a dominant, powerful alpha with a slew of omegas dying to win his affection. He loves it, lives for it, except when he’s in rut. Steve is an omega and fights it every damn day. But when his body goes into heat, needs to breed, he can’t do anything to stop it. Billy is in rut and Steve is in heat when a freak heatwave knocks out the air conditioning in their shared apartment complex. Open windows and rampant hormones? What could go wrong?

High demand by Underthegrave (13,256 words. IN) Alpha Billy

In a dystopian society where the vast majority of people are betas unable to reproduce, alphas and omegas are kept as second-class breeding stock.

Billy and Steve are the most anticipated pairing of the year... but they aren't quite getting along as planned.

Don’t threaten me with a good time by Oop (7508 words. IN) Alpha Steve

Billy doesn't keep it a secret. He doesn’t use suppressants, doesn’t chase other omegas around like he’s lead by the nose, doesn’t do anything too particular that screams alpha, but that’s what people seem to hear anyway.

"Hey," Steve says, exhaling smoke at the sky. "This is gonna sound weird, but... What cologne are you wearing?"

Heaven by femmesteve (219 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Something short about a very horny, omega Steve basically.

Suppressants by femmesteve (12,430 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Billy finds out about Steve

Steve Forgets by femmesteve (1,242 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Steve forgets his heat and Billy is there to be a jerk and fuck him how he needs.

Heatstroke by Hobbitspacecase (8022 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy is out of suppressants and going into Heat. Steve finds him. It's too bad Billy can't have this every time.

First part / Second part by Lipgallagher (5712 words. IN)

“You’re leaking, Harrington. It’s gross.”

“You’re gross.” Steve’s head hurts, his entire body is just aching, and he is so fucking horny that it’s goddamn embarrassing. This is a heat, he knows that, but he also knows that the first day isn’t ever the worst one.

One by eightiesboys (390 words. CO) Alpha Billy

steve’s heat starts up during basketball practice without him noticing the telltale signs (excessive sweating, added body temperature) because he’s too focused on trying to keep the ball away from billy 

One by Snow (515 words. CO) Alpha Billy

“Billy, hey…Billy? C'mon, man, wake up already…” Steve murmured, starting to frown. Billy always slept like a dead, and while at one times it was kind of adorable, at the other times, like this, it was annoying. 

Hawkins happy day daycare by Chiefette (4584 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve is just an omega daycare teacher stuck in a tree.

Billy is just an alpha firefighter that helps him down.

It's obvious to the 6 kids of Hawkins Happy Day Daycare that they need to get the two to fall in love, and how do you know when two people are in love? They have a baby of course!

Not that Steve and Billy need much help.

or

Short looks into an extremely self-indulgent daycare AU

Mind over matter series by Hati_skoll (4358 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve gets wet for Billy.

(Less porn inside than implied.)

Heat of the moment by Akayn (2614 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve crouched down to grab the shampoo when he felt it. That warm heat curling low in his belly. Steve froze. His heat shouldn’t be here this early, there was no way. He had been on suppressants since he’d presented two years ago. Under a strict regime that controlled when his heats struck. And he was six weeks early.

Sweet scent that has me fallin’ to my knees by sens8tional (1253 words. IN) Alpha Billy

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Billy growls as he cornered Steve in the empty hallway. “Do we have ourselves an omega in dear ol’ Hawkins?”

-

Steve has been hiding the fact that he's an omega for a few years now, ever since he had his first heat and his parents put him on suppressants but everything comes falling apart when new boy Billy Hargrove comes into town and corners Steve in a hallway, leaving the omega confused and desperate to keep himself far away from the Alpha no matter what his biology wants.

Learning each other by Poisonousflower3 (1358 words. IN) Alpha Billy

"Billy hated being an alpha. He hated how it made his sense of smell stronger and smell the despair that always seemed to linger in this town. He hated how he was always so angry, though he knew that part of it was the abuse from his dad and his temper.

What he didn’t hate was how it let him get a good whiff of Steve whenever he was around."

In which case home starts to include Steve Harrington for Billy.

I never injured thee by Sachanpwns (812 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy should have known the second Steve’s teeth broke through his scent glands that shit was going to go down at school. He should have known that coming off his suppressants and presenting to King Steve as an omega would end up causing fucking drama. He should have known.

I don’t need you (but I do) by Sachanpwns (1274 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy's in heat, and he doesn't need Steve.

Except he does.

Not done until I say so by Sachanpwns (1132 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Steve likes that, even as an Omega, Billy has the bite and bark of an alpha.

My status (I hate it) by Sachanpwns (774 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy does everything he can against his natural instincts as on omega. 

Collision course by Cherryfleash (7835 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Takes place just after season 2. Billy struggles with his aggressive alpha nature, made worse by the abuse at the hands of his father. Steve leaves the hospital with a diagnose of his own. In a world with little to no correct information of this mystical medical phenomena, can two teenage boys navigate that rocky path on their own?

‘Cause We Feel Young and Wild by beautyinchains (1515 words CO) Alpha Steve

Soon, is Steve’s best guess. Soon like the subtle itch beneath his skin that intensifies with each passing day. Soon like the voracity of his appetite as his body begins to prepare itself for the upcoming marathon. Soon like the aggression that continues to build and threaten to spill whenever another Alpha so much as glances Billy’s way. Soon like the way he’s been tenting his sheets, his slacks, his gym shorts at so much as a gentle breeze.  

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Adjacent stuff

Bound by Luv_haze ( 38544 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve's high school sociology class suddenly becomes the focal point of his dreary winter in Hawkins when the teacher assigns a semester long project that makes absolutely no sense but apparently counts for his entire grade.

The class assignment reads: "This semester we will be understanding social roles in a pack or clan like dynamic through the wonderful world of Alpha, Beta and Omega personalities!"

And Steve's individual assignment is a string of several words that coil deep in his gut and might as well be in Klingon. "You are Omega #1. Mated to Alpha #1."

He hopes his "alpha" partner is anyone but that jackass Billy Hargrove, but then this just hasn't been Steve's year, has it?

Build it better by Anonymous (29853 words. CO) Mpreg Steve

“Congratulations, Steve. You’re having a baby.”

Your tongue is sharp, but I miss the taste of it by Thecopperkid (7683 words. CO) Fuck or die Billy

Billy looks sweaty as fuck. Abandoned his denim jacket, drenched through his thin t-shirt. He’s like, unbuckled, rolling around in the seat, all hunched in fetal position. Grabbing the crotch of his fucking pants.

Then he really fucks with Steve’s shit.

Says, “I need to come, I think.”

*

Billy had one job -- don't take off the scarf. / Science is probably not Steve's strong suit, but he's really trying to make sense of why Billy's suddenly found him so appealing.

Put a baby in me, baby by femmesteve (353 words. CO)

Billy and Steve play with Steve’s pregnancy kink

The real stranger things by femmesteve (1025 words IN) 

My AU where Billy is an alien and Steve is a human who loves him dearly.

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09/2018 (if you want to send me your faves fics, head canons or anything to update this I’ll add it when I get the time again)