#and yesterday i was at the gym..... after just getting back from visiting another friend this whole weekend. my social slay

[phagodyke]

sorry for not posting much on tumblr lately I've been trying this thing called "having a life" have any of u guys heard of it idk it's kind of niche....

[hannahssimblr]

I wake in the morning and roll over, pawing the bed for Astrid. My hand touches the flat sheet instead, and squinting against the slash of sun coming between the curtains, I see her empty side; the bed made up, pillow fluffed as though nobody has even slept. 

But she did, I heard her come to bed late last night, at least an hour behind me, following a prolonged phone call to her sister, while presumably finishing the bottle of wine we brought home after dinner. 

I get up and go through to the hallway, the brick floor perfectly cool beneath my feet. The house is quiet. 

On the balcony, she has left her empty glass upon the table, an imprint of lipstick on the rim, one last drop at the bottom. 

She is in the pool. 

“Good morning,” I call to her. Swimming, apparently, is another thing she does with extreme elegance. She looks up. 

“Morning,” she says. 

“How’s the water?”

“It’s lovely.”

“I can join you.”

“I’ve been here for a while. I think I’ll get out soon.”

“Oh, okay. I suppose I can start making breakfast, then.”

“That’d be nice, thank you.”

We got fresh produce at a market yesterday. Organic eggs, Parma ham, freshly baked bread. I set about cooking, leaving the window open so I can hear the birds. 

“I’ll be in the shower!” Astrid calls from the foyer, and goes up the stairs and into the bathroom, where she pulls the heavy wooden door behind her. 

I sort of had this romantic idea that we’d take all our showers together on this holiday. It’s rare that we get long swathes of time in one another’s company, what with the busyness of college, the distance between our apartments and all the things we do with our free time. Like the gym, which I have committed to four times a week alongside Jonas, who has insisted that we should be equally fit if we are going to spend the summer travelling together. And Astrid, with her extensive, varied network of extremely interesting friends, is almost impossible to pin down for even a weekend. This holiday is an opportunity to be alone, truly alone together, and enjoy all the benefits that come with it. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. 

But obviously, her taking a shower alone is fine. She's perfectly entitled to do so.

The eggs benedict is cooked by the time she has finished, and I set the table under a parasol on the terrace and the sun shines as clouds dissolve above our heads. 

“This is so tasty,” she says, mopping hollandaise sauce from her place with a piece of bread. “Where did you learn to make this?”

“Google,” I say. “I just looked it up on my phone.”

“I must say, I hoped you’d have a more exciting answer.”

“Next time I’ll make a story up.”

I lean back in my seat, and with a satisfied sigh, I breathe in the scent of citrus trees. It’s quiet, still, save for the buzz of cicadas and waves lapping against the sea cliffs. 

Astrid shuts her eyes and takes it in too. Her hair is still damp from the shower, and I follow a droplet down the languid curve of her neck until it disappears beneath her robe.

“That boat tour I booked is in an hour. Do you think you’ll be ready?”

“Oh,” she stretches her arms overhead. “Yes, I think so. What do you think we should wear?”

“I don’t know. Something easy to take off, I suppose. We’ll probably go swimming.”

“Alright,” she gets out of her chair and drifts towards the villa. “I’ll make myself presentable.” 

There are few people I have met who have talked about sailing with such gusto as my father. He doesn’t talk with gusto about much, nor talk at all, really, these days, save for a few grunts down the phone at me when I phone home to speak to Ivy, but I remember how much he loved to sail when I was little. 

College weekends, when he would visit me at Aunt Maureen’s, he might stand out on the portal and look over the scorched desert, he always did that, just looked, with his hands in his trouser pockets, and he’d start talking about sailboats. 

“The way the sails would just snap in the wind,” he’d say, to nobody in particular, maybe to me, with my legos inside the open patio door. He’d always clench his fist with the word “snap” like he was snatching a jib sheet rope from thin air. He’d talk about his brothers, and the summers they could spend skirting the coast of California, about how one day, when I was big enough, college was done, and he had time again, he’d take me to Dana Point harbour and we’d take to the water on my grandfather’s boat. 

Perhaps he’d anticipated we would have a decent relationship by the time I was big enough to handle a halyard line, but it didn’t turn out that way, and he never took me sailing. In fact, when we moved to Dublin, a mere kilometre from a yacht club, he never joined it. He never sailed after leaving America. 

“And what’s that?” I ask our skipper, an Italian man in his mid twenties, with English good enough for partial communication. He handles the sail and I observe, fascinated, beside him, peppering him with questions he seems comfortable to answer, despite not knowing the word half the time. Not that it’d matter, really, because I won’t recall any of it once we hit land. 

“The outhall,” he says. “It is to adjust the boom position.”

“Right, right.”

There’s a tour guide on the boat, too, valiantly explaining the geography and history of the region, the other tourists oohing and ahhing as he gestures grandly to the tower of a cathedral, extending proud above terracotta roofs and perfectly framed by a mountainous backdrop. I look at the view for an appropriate amount of time. My interest in the view is only faint compared to my captivation with the mysterious sailboat controls. 

“If you want, you can crank the winch,” the skipper says, and it is only because he is gesturing to the spool that holds the rope that I know what that means. I nod, though intimidated, and wish for one panicked moment that my relationship with my father had been better, or that I hadn’t been too disappointing to take on a sailboat… or something. 

Across the deck, Astrid, who grew tired of my fixation with the mechanics of the boat a while ago, chats with another couple. Her charm is obvious from afar, as both sit, hands entangled and nodding at her as though her every word is captivating. They have that glow, I think, that in-love, infatuated-with-one-another kind of glow I’ve read about in books, like, everything about one another is wonderful and keeping their hands to themselves is a total impossibility. They keep smiling into one another’s faces, their gazes lingering, and I catch myself wondering if I’ve ever looked like that to an outsider in any of my relationships. 

Astrid waves me over, and I thank the skipper and join her across the boat.

“This is Suzana and Silvio,” she says. “They are from Portugal.”

I shake their hands. “My grandmother is actually from Portugal.”

“Oh, what part?”

“I dunno, actually. I never asked.”

Silvio says something to me in Portuguese, and as a wonderful bonus, he is wearing those trendy, mirrored sunglasses, because I get to see my panicked expression reflected right back at me before I tell him I have not understood a word. 

As we sit and converse with them, I feel compelled to mirror some of their affection with Astrid. I tuck a wisp of hair escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. I rest my hand on her waist, and when Suzana gushes about how cute we are, I pull her into me and kiss her forehead. We aren’t really that cute, but I can see why our new friends would think so. Our age difference is obvious. They’re in their late twenties, at least. Silvio has a career in some vague, marketing related field that I forget the specifics of as soon as he tells me. I don’t even know what marketing is, and cannot think of questions to ask, which makes me feel inept, like I shouldn’t actually be talking to him. Like they’ll both be weirded out by how young I am, and pivot to stock questions about college and what I like to do for fun. 

But they don’t, and as the afternoon stretches on, and the yacht glides into deeper waters and Amalfi becomes a slash of terracotta on the horizon, we dive into a detailed conversation about things intelligent people would consider compelling. Silvio tells me about this psychologist whose work he’s been following, and for inexplicable reasons, I say “yes” when he asks if I’ve heard of him. Following this is a long conversation that takes all of my concentration, as he discusses the author’s critique of communist Czechoslovakia and supporters of the left, while I agree with him, just because I think it is the easiest thing to do.

Perhaps I should care about things like this, I think, as he launches into a passionate argument in favour of conservatism. I have never thought about psychology or politics or right-wing, left-wing this and that. Am I supposed to? We didn’t learn it at school. Briefly, I tune into the girls’ conversation to discover they are discussing French law. I didn’t know there was anything particularly notable about French law, but I should probably Google it. I refocus on Silvio, and frown, so it looks like I am thinking very hard.

“Yes,” I say. “I totally agree,” though I hardly understood a word he said.

After we are served white wine from a local vineyard, we watch a pod of dolphins trail us, leaping and pirouetting out of the sea in the foamy wake of the boat. I wonder if dolphins are supposed to be as exciting as they are to me. I am fixated on their graceful bodies, gleaming as they play in the water, and wonder if they are exciting to Astrid, if she has seen them before, though the moment I intend to ask her, her back is turned. She’s still speaking to Suzana. 

When we have sailed far off into the sea, we all leap off it and swim. The water is so clear that we can see far beneath to shoals of anchovies darting by, and moon jellyfish that drift hypnotically by. It occurs to me I haven’t been in the sea since last summer. In lakes, yes, as Jonas has a habit of forcing me to swim whenever he encounters some miscellaneous body of water on our hikes, but a balmy sea has nothing in common with those, complete with stony banks that slice your feet when you dare attempt an emergence. When I float backwards and dip my ears beneath the surface, sound muffles to obscurity. I close my eyes too, and I am enveloped by it, overcome with the surreal feeling of safety, like I have come home, though I’m not even sure where I have been. 

Late afternoon, as the boat heads for the shore, I lay on the deck and watch Amalfi encroach, bathed in tranquillity, as golden light pours over the mountains. Astrid climbs down to join me as Suzana and Silvio sit tangled together nearby, their exact words obscured to abstract coos behind the sounds of slashing seawater on the hull. 

“They’re nice people,” she says, and I nod. They are perfectly fine. “Suzana is a smart woman,” she adds. “We had a fantastic conversation.”

“Mm, I bet. You two were talking for a while.”

“She has a master’s degree in gastronomy. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“What’s that?”

“Food science, food anthropology, business management. She wants to open her own restaurant in Lisbon. You should ask her about it. I’m sure you’d be very interested in that kind of thing.”

“Why? Because I like to cook?”

“Well, yes.”

“I’m not a gastronomist. I’m just a guy who makes eggs for breakfast.”

“Well,” she says, “I still think that’s interesting. Silvio was explaining something else to me. I don’t know what it was, really, some kind of digital currency. You should ask him about it, too. It sounds like something worth knowing about.”

“Well, maybe, but we’re about fifteen minutes from the shore, so I really don’t know how much time I’m going to have.”

She waves me off. “Oh, well, I invited them to join us for dinner, so you’ll have plenty time.”

I sit up, body rigid. “Astrid, I made a reservation for two.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure we can squeeze them in.”

“We’re going to have to explain it to the staff. Well, you are, actually, because they won’t speak English.”

“I will, and they’ll be perfectly fine with it. It’s not like Germany here, you know, things are more relaxed,” she puts emphasis on the last word, as though suggesting I should follow suit. I try to, but there is a funny feeling in me, a discomfort I am having trouble naming. Instead, I scoff. 

“The whole point of this holiday is that we spend time together. Just you and me,” I point out, darting my finger from my chest to hers, as though my meaning isn’t obvious. “Inviting other people along to our plans goes against that whole idea.”

“Please, Jude, we’re together all the time.”

“That’s not true. These last few weeks, especially, I’ve barely seen you for more than a few hours at a time. You know, I was looking forward to being—”

“It’s one dinner,” she protests. “Just one. I’d really like to talk to them more, that’s all. We’ve been having a nice day together, and it felt wrong just to end it out there on the dock.”

“Yeah, but–”

She holds her hand up. She is not finished. “They’re staying here for several days, like us, and we’re bound to run into them again. Why not be friendly? You don’t have to be opposed to mingling with people, you know. It’s not attractive.”

“I’m not opposed.”

“Well, you have fooled me, then.”

I sigh. “Astrid…”

“Come on,” she says, more gently this time, and it’s her most evil tactic of all, because she knows I can’t resist her when she’s soft with me. “The best-case scenario is that we have fun tonight. We have a fascinating conversation and get some restaurant recommendations from Suzana. The worst is that they are dreadful, and we have an interesting story to tell afterwards. You love to have an interesting story.”

“I suppose.”

“Tell me ‘yes’.”

I look at her with the most disapproving expression I can muster, and the corners of her mouth curl up, smug. She knows I don’t even have to say it. She has won the game again. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[steamishot]

start of aug

i had my 4th therapy session on 7/27 with joel. my initial plan was to pay for two months of therapy which would have been ~$550. however, i didn't find my last therapy session to be so useful and the idea of shelling out another ~$225 for august was bothersome. he really helped me feel more at ease with recent anxieties, but now i feel like i'm just sharing normal "life's annoyances" that can be instead talked out with friends. in my last session, i talked about how living in a studio with matt can be difficult (the extremities of being gone for long hours on the 7 days on, both of us WFH at times, and then being 24/7 together in elbows distance on his 7 days off). he just empathized and said that it's hard. i also mentioned feeling mixed emotions/sad to leave certain friends here when the time does come to move back. he basically responded "just feel sad!". the whole teaching is to not resist my emotions and let them be. i realized in this session that my therapist won't remember details about my life because they have too many clients. instead, i will read the books that he has referenced and recommended.

this past week of matt's off week was generally good. though i do find myself irritable and annoyed because of the lack of alone time/space to ourselves. this is a perpetual issue we'll have, at least until we finally move back to CA. i've still been keeping an eye on one-bedroom apartments that we can move into. yesterday, we checked out 37X and 46J in the same building. 37X was at a really "good" rate of ~$3500. we always assumed that the higher the floor the better, thinking that the views are nicer and it would be quieter. contrary to our assumptions, it was not quiet up there because of the proximity to the giant ACs (?) of the building that would likely be going off 24/7. i also understood the term "down to earth" from this visit. the higher up you are, the more isolating it feels from the world imo. i appreciated our little studio on the 12th floor more after seeing those apartments. i learned that i like being closer to the ground and prefer views of nature (trees, beach, etc) over skylines.

we did a lot of workouts this past week, almost emulating our time at equinox. this included: 3 hot yoga classes, gym session, soulcycle and outdoor cycling. it's always the best feeling to feel so tired from workouts that you knock out really easily.

i officially received an offer for the new job! i signed the contract for 8/20, but they later told me they'll change my start date to 9/1 to avoid any issues with converting from a biweekly to monthly employee. they ended up giving me a 15.5% increase (negotiating got me 0.5% higher lol). i'm pretty happy with this as all staff also got a 4.6% increase this year as well. this basically means i'm up 20% since last year. i feel more adult now that we can technically live (survive) off of my income alone.

we had another double date with S&I for homemade taiwanese beef noodle soup. this was a pretty big success and one of my favorite double dates. the broth was excellent, and thank goodness the beef turned out tender this time. we met up in industry city and introduced them to our favorite coffee shop tadaima. I is a coffee shop owner who is also semi in the restaurant industry approaches things differently than us normal people. it was like a soft opening of our kitchen. i really do enjoy hosting/serving home cooked food; i'm really looking forward to doing more of that when we're back in CA.

on the move back to CA: it seems there is more understanding between matt and i about this issue. it has been a touchy subject since the start of this year. he's barely getting the time to live his life out here now, whereas i've lived it (while he was busy in residency) and i'm ready to move on. we're slowly getting back to be on the same page of agreeing that it's time to move back now. however, there are still no offers. at this point, it seems the job in san bernandino is the best option. we may seriously consider accepting that if they do extend an offer.

legal business: my parents have asked me to seek out a lawyer for some family drama between my cousin and my dad. my cousin may be guilty of slander. i have not yet found one who will accept our case.

[brianyololau]

5/27/23

I feel like I’m being lied to. I feel like I’m being lied to by my mother.

Where do I even begin?

I recently revisited a childhood memory that’s preventing me from trusting relationships. I didn’t know it affected me until the words came out my mouth.

I don’t remember what year this happened specifically, but I know it was when my parents were going through it.

Are my eyes deceiving me? Or am I deceiving myself? 

It was so long ago that I don’t remember the vivid details, but the feelings from that day remain the same.

Confusion. I didn’t know how to interpret the image I saw as a child, but looking back, I feel it was cheating.

However, I wouldn’t know because nothing physical happened, well, at least from my glimpse of it.

My mom had a friend from her ESL days named Chu Hung. They hung out together in a friend group that my god mother was also in back then. They all eventually married and started families. Life seemed simple and innocent for them back then, young, innocent, living the post Vietnam war dream by starting a family in America.

Maybe 5-6 years later after the kids, things got sour for them. My mom was going through a failing marriage only staying because of me. Chu Hung was apparently going through some problems with his wife too.

It’s hard to talk about this because the memory doesn’t just end there. As of yesterday, it’s made me question my mom’s loyalty, and as of who knows when, it’s one of things that made me question relationships.

When I was a kid, around preschool/kindergarten, my mom and I visited Chu Hung’s place. I played in the living room with his daughter while he and mom were in another room talking. After a long while, I went to go look for mom to ask her when we were going home. I remember I walked into one of the rooms just quietly, turned to my right, and there I saw my mom sitting on a countertop. Chu Hung was leaning in close towards her.

Silence.

Suddenly, she was startled and noticed me standing there. She asked what I was doing and brought me back down to the living room. Then, she told me that Chu Hung and her would be right back in the other room.

That was the end of it.

I tried to bring this up once before several years later as a child. She immediately became defensive, angry, and denied any of it happening. I was young and just went with it.

It came back two nights ago, and I decided to confront my mom about it again yesterday. Really, I just wanted some closure.

When I came home from the gym, she asked me how I was doing. It seemed she was free to talk, so I sat down. I asked her if she loved dad when she married her. 

“Of course. I had to be in love in order to marry him.”

‘How did you know?’

“Well, we were together for 3 years, and he fit my type: respectful, nice, quiet, and had a job lined up for him. Except, I married him too soon. It wasn’t until after that his true colors showed. Why do you ask?”

‘Well, there’s a girl I met. We’re pretty compatible, but I don’t feel ready. I think the problem is somewhere inside of me.’

“Why not? Just trust yourself. I had a feeling there was a girl out there since your ass was going out every day to study.”

‘I don’t think I trust relationships yet, mom. I’ve seen some shady things around me growing up, and it’s made me scared of them. I’m scared of being hurt. I feel like I would wanna run away or mess it up before it gets to that point.’

“Well, you just have to do it and trust yourself. It’s that simple.”

‘Mom, do you remember when I was a kid and we were at Chu Hung’s place? I was in the living room playing with his daughter, and I went up to look for you. I ended up 

[findafight]

Nobody really knew why freshmen Steve Harrington and Tommy Hagan were having some kind of vicious spat, but they all knew it was happening. Couldn't be ignored, really. They were the up and comers for Hawkins royalty, and if small town highschool gossip loved anything, it was drama between popular kids.

It comes to a head one day in the parking lot, Tommy and Carol badgering when Steve blows up at them, for all the school to see.

"just because you're both content to be fucking miserable, doesn't mean I have to be! I want something outside of this damn town, the least you could do is actually give a half hearted 'good luck' but nooo. Couldn't even pretend to give a shit about what I want. Couldn't even be bothered not to shit on it. Fuck you both." He turns around and somps back into the school, sending his peers a tittering about what could possibly have lead to such a public falling out.

He gets all the way to Ms. Ingrid's art room before he takes a breath to steady himself. There's another student in there, working on some project or another late, and Ms. Ingrid is marking at her desk. Steve knocks on the door.

"Steve?" Ms. Ingrid asks, looking up from her work. "What are you doing here after school?"

He swallows. "I wanted to talk to you about swimming."

She blinks "well, sure. You'll be on the team again next year, right? You've got a beautiful butterfly." Ms. Ingrid did that, talked about swim strokes like they were works of art and her swimmers were painters, saying magnificent, gorgeous, amazing, beautiful! It was weird, look at sports like that, but Steve thinks he gets it, a little.

"yeah. I want to. But-uh. More than that." He scratches his cheek, nervous. "The Olympics are in two years this July. If I work for it, do you think I could make it?"

Ms. Ingrid watches him for a moment, and Steve fights not to fidget.

"it's just- I told Tommy and Carol I wanted to and they said it was stupid, that no one cares about swimming unless it's the Olympics and even then it's just for the medals, and that I probably wouldn't make it anyways so why even try?" He's rambling, he knows, but he's just shattered whatever friendship he and Tommy and Carol had and he wants someone to tell him he can do something. "But I want to. I love swimming, and I want to do it forever. And-and you said having a goal was important, for everything we do, so-I just really want to go to the Olympics. I want to be more than whatever Tommy and Carol think I should settle for, for being king of the school or whatever people want to call it. I want to stand on a podium and get a medal but more than that I want to go to the Olympics even if I don't win. I want to dive from the blocks and swim."

There are tears in his eyes, as Ms. Ingrid comes around her desk and places her hands on his shoulders. "It'll be a lot of work, Steve. Are you ready for that?" He nods. "A lot of early mornings or late nights, probably cross training. You might not have time for everything else you want to do-"

"I think I just lost both my friends so it's not like I'll have much to do."

She sighs. "You'll still have all your school work, might not be able to join basketball again but that's something to decide later, and actually travelling for meets is expensive."

"that's fine. I can handle that. But. Ms. Ingrid. Do you think I can do it?"

Slowly, she smiles. "Yeah, Steve. I think you can do it. And I'll do everything I can to help you there."

Steve grins, all teeth.

A month later, in May, Jaquline Ingrid gets a visit from Mr. Raul Foster, the head PE teacher.

"Jackie, I got a...well not a favour to ask. More of a proposal. Yesterday I got a call from James, down at the middle school, saying he had a kid that was all limbs and no coordination to go with them, and that he's worried she'll injure herself if she does anything more complex than running in gym class. She's moving up to ninth grade next year, so it was a heads-up." He sighs, arms crossed. "Now, we all know you've taken the Harrington kid under your wing to get him to the Olympics, and I figured hey, you can't be with him at every practice. Why not give him a, I dunno, spotter? Timekeeper? Someone at the pool with him to keep him in check, who also needs gym credits because she might brain herself accidentally?"

Jackie laughs. "Raul, seriously? The kid isn't even in highschool yet, and you're trying to pawn her off to me?"

He scratches his head. "I just figured maybe we introduce them now, you give them a few different workout routines for the summer, and let them figure out their dynamic without the pressure of adults always watching. Give you a break."

And, well. It's not a terrible plan. Not at all. Steve's been determined, yes, but she can tell he's lonely. He ditched Tommy and Carol, fully committed to proving them wrong, and seems hasn't been close to anyone else in school. It might be good for him to have a friend. Jackie huffs.

"fine. Honestly, Steve probably needs someone around his age that isn't gossiping about him and Tommy or about how he's the Harrington heir or whatever. What's our klutz's name?"

Raul smiles, obviously releaved. "Robin Buckley."

Based on this

[semischarmed]

Temptation

-Wednesday- 

I love him so much. God I love him. And he’ll never know. Maybe it was a curse from a past life or something. To live like this, tantalizingly close to him but unable to act. I knew he didn’t see me that way, but that didn’t help any in my situation. 

Take today for instance, he just came back from the gym today soaked in the lingering smell of sweat. It was probably residual perspiration on the clothes he was carrying back or some other thing in his bag. Still. The smell. Goddamn. I could have died and gone to heaven on the spot. I tried to sneak a whiff of Connor, but all I could pick up was whatever soap and cologne he used. It was earthy, woodsy. Like cut cedar and fresh rain. It’s the Connor I always smelled, since he did always keep himself quite clean, and it’s a wonderful scent in its own right, forming the basis of my idea of Connor and the scent I associated with him. But damn. This paled in comparison to the hints of musk and workout sweat I could glean from his clothing. He reeked of pure man and it’s such a shame he covered that up. God I hope he doesn’t do laundry anytime soon.

He must have picked up on something, cause not a moment later I got a “Oh dude! I’m so sorry, this stuff probably reeks haha. I’ll get it washed up so it doesn’t stink up the place” he laughed politely. Fuck.

“Sure, you do you” I stated back, mentally cursing at his propensity for cleanliness.

You’d think the ROTC guys wouldn’t give two fucks about their smell but I guess Connor was an exception. Then again I don’t really know what they did, so maybe it was normal for them. In any case, he definitely did laundry tonight, and I definitely lost out on a good jack off.

-Friday-

So, weird thing happened last night. Connor looked tired as fuck, but he went out. The man must have been running on sheer willpower alone cause he had some kind of training day earlier today too. He collapsed in his room at like 8. Yet there he was an hour later- eyes bloodshot, hair tousled. Maybe he wanted to let loose or something? Still pretty weird. I mean, the guy was practically a saint. It’s odd enough that he went out for drinks, but even odder that he went out dressed like he did. Still I could definitely get used to a more experimental Connor. 

He was also a little looser when he came back. Gave me a pat on the shoulder and a wink. Something about “keeping the room safe” or something. I couldn’t concentrate enough to tell what he was actually rambling about. His breath was drenched in alcohol. I feel like I almost got drunk off the fumes alone when he spoke. No surprise when he had no recollection of any of it after he woke up from his nap. 

Total guilty pleasure, but the messy look was kind of hot on him. Never seen my friend so disheveled like this, he was always so prim and proper. It’s kind of nice to see him knocked down a few pegs. 

-Tuesday-

Connor let out a cute yawn before scratching his pits. He gave his scratching hand a quick sniff before settling into a satisfied smile. My dick jumped a little. I feigned ignorance when he regarded me, asking me if I saw that. “I… uh…no. Definitely not.” 

“Sure dude.” Now fully aware of my stare, Connor continued scratching at himself. “You’re seeing this now though, right?” He ran a hand over his stomach, gently feeling through his defined abs. I kept replaying the event in my head, drooling the delight I just witnessed and at a little daydream of me coming up to to feel this new side of Connor with him. In my daze, I barely noticed my roommate inching closer.

Plus, did he seem… bigger? Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen the guy without a shirt on so I guess I just never noticed. Regardless, this version of Connor was fucking hot. Looks like he’s got a tat too. Hot. 

“Baby if you’re gonna keep looking, you might as well have a taste.” He laughed warmly. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. In my stunned state, I couldn’t do anything beyond stare at him in disbelief as a vascular hand that seemed larger than it should be guided mine around his perky ass. God what a nice ass. I still recoiled out of the sheer absurdity in the situation. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of this Connor. It’s like he was two different people. Well, I definitely liked this version of my friend more. I’m still drooling over what just happened.

“Another time, then,” he chuckled before walking to his room. 

Weird. Connor never really shut his door other than to sleep. Guess he was tired or something. 

-Thursday-

Well shit, I totally misread all of that. Today, I thought I saw that same glint of intrigue in his eyes and decided to risk it. Conner was just sitting in his boxers eating cereal and I was just standing there, a few feet behind. I couldn’t help it. My hand instinctively reached out and the cupped the outline of his ass. Perky. It was cute and compact and plump but definitely had a bit of muscle behind it. I regretted the action immediately. 

“…The fuck dude?” He gently whispered. It was more bewilderment than anything. Fuck. He was incredulous and I couldn’t blame him. Anger raged inside him, I could tell. But neither of us knew what to do in the situation. We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like hours before I relented.

In shame I could barely stammer out a shameful “s-sorry” before I slunk back to my room, bright red. 

I fucked up.

-Monday-

Okay. Scratch everything I just said. Connor is fucking with me. He’s got to be. He strode around the apartment half naked, humming a quiet tune to himself. Sure. Fine, I guess. Whatever. But as soon as he noticed me on the couch working on an essay, he walked over and gave me a hug from behind. Oh my god that hug. Connor was a lean dude, but I swear his muscles were fucking bulging, like they were barely contained in his skin. He wrapped those thick pythons over my shoulders and chest and I just about melted on the spot. I’m pretty sure I moaned a little too. Who wouldn’t? Wrapped in his warm embrace, surrounded by this man- I was his for that moment. I tensed up on the spot. I knew he didn’t swing that way, so I don’t know what he was trying but there was no way I would fall for what I could only assume was some kind of trap. 

He spoke in a tone laced in sex. It set me off in a way I didn’t expect. This was a side of Connor I’ve never seen, a tone of Connor I’ve never heard- an experience of Connor I’ve never had. It was a Connor I never knew I needed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at this body. You’re not very subtle.” In the faintest of whispers, he leaned in until his lips were barely touching my ear. My dick was already rock hard in anticipation- I was practically bursting at the seams and I’m sure he had a great view of it. “Just say the word and ‘Connor’ is yours”. 

With a control and a willpower I never had before, I refrained from kissing this boy- from putting myself all over him on the spot. I mentally cursed at my friend. ‘What the fuck are you playing at Connor?’ 

His hot, damp breath caressed my ear in its own embrace as I stood my ground, unmoving like stone. “Got to hand it to you, bro, you put up a really good fight. It’s okay. I love a good fight. Makes victory taste all the more sweeter.” The feel of Connor’s thick, defined fingers running through my hair and wet, slimy tongue across my cheek. He rolled his body forward, so the pulse through his abs would be felt across the back of my neck. From this spot, he was downright imposing. His guns went in for another caress- this time wrapping across my cheeks and around my chin.

“You know I love you bro… This body’s straight as an arrow. But it’s my body- I’ll go gay for you if you want”. What the fuck. Oh god I got a bit of his sweat on my cheek too. My eyes fluttered, body entrapped in a spell of my own hormones reacting to my friend’s advances.

Connor broke me. I shivered on the spot, leaned up to the man, moaned an “Oh fuck…Connor I-I need you. I-” before he cut me off. “Well bro, kind of looks like you still got some work today- you have fun with that.” He laughed coldly. He was fucking with me.

That whole exchange was really fucking weird, cause just a few hours later, it was back to pure awkward silence between us. Like a flip of a switch, the every energy he exuded around me could only be described as “uncomfortable”. I wanted to talk to him, to speak with him about earlier, to tell him I wanted him the same way. Something about those eyes read differently though. They read the same Connor I had been used to until recently. I decided to hold my tongue. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up.

Also I’m pretty sure this kid needs to see a doctor or something. I swear the guy doesn’t sleep- he’s out every night and then I see his tired ass drag himself to class every morning. Rushing a frat? Weird drugs? Could have been a host of things. 

-Tuesday-

Now 4 days since the incident last week. Thankfully he hasn’t brought it up- nor has he brought up whatever the fuck yesterday was. If it was even real. I sweat and stumble over my sentences in every conversation I make with him. I flash back to what he said to me. God, this was all too much. Every time I try to focus myself, focus on whatever he was talking to me about, I couldn’t help but think of the Connor that visited me yesterday night. 

Maybe, maybe it was just a hallucination. Maybe I dreamed it all up. I was working on an essay for hours. The whole encounter could have easily been a dream. He’s been going out every night too, so it’s not like he could have been speaking to me that coherently. Still. That didn’t make it any better. Whether or not he knew it, Connor was a demon in my life. 

I shamefully admit I totally jacked off to that little exchange from yesterday after he left. Grabbed some used Connor-scented garments off his hamper and exploded all over myself in a Connor-themed session. Nothing like the exquisite gym-soaked clothes from a week ago, but it was enough. It was still Connor. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head in pleasure as I took a breath, basking in the afterglow and the scent of forest and earth and faintest lingering musk of Connor in my nose. Connor was everything to me and, hallucination or not, I committed yesterday’s events to memory. 

-Still Tuesday-

Shitshitshit. Definitely not a dream. I caught the son of a bitch. In the dead of night, I caught him sneaking in from a dark corner of the room. Like a figure manifest from the shadows itself. He was holding some silver figurine in his hand, reciting some odd words, before he lunged at the sleeping Connor. He gave my roommate a quick sniff before scoffing. “Bro you have to stop cleaning all your nice smells away… With that the stranger pulled at the corners of Connor’s mouth. I watched as my roommate’s skin was forced to accommodate the man’s muscular calves. 

I watched as the stranger pulled Connor every further up himself. Damn, even in the dark I could tell the man was ripped. When his head finally slotted into where Connor’s skull would be, and Connor’s face was stretched being pulled, I saw the immediate change in my friend’s demeanor. This was the guy who’s been fucking with me recently. This was why Connor looked so buff lately. I couldn’t see the man who jumped inside my best friend, but I could never wipe that smug smile he wore through Connor’s face. 

The smell that originated from inside Connor, the same smell I experienced a week ago. God I loved that scent. It permeated throughout the room. Best friend concentrate. Like a humid, musky, grime that clung to the very air and decorated my nostrils. I never wanted his scent out of me again. I felt like I was inhaling Connor himself, regarding a newly discovered private part of my friend.

My stomach churned in a mix of anticipation and horror. Sweat beaded at my temples. Gotta admit, this was kind of hot. I had to figure out what I was gonna do about this. Self-preservation kicked in and I fled to my room, taking special attention to ensure I did not alert the man inside Connor. Not like he’d notice anyways- dude was feeling himself up almost immediately after he slipped inside. 

-Wednesday-

It’s like clockwork at this point. The “other” Connor came back early in the morning from a wild night out, before passing out on our couch as I was finally able to speak with my friend. Impossibly tired eyes looked back at me. He gave a weak grimace. “Must have passed out again….Uh.. can I help you man?” My heart sank. Could I really tell him this? My poor roommate. “No, uh.. do you want any breakfast?”.

I could tell he had meant to say yes. He motioned as much, before staring at my face and turning away. Fuck. He was definitely still put off by last week’s advance. I honestly don’t blame him. “N-no. I got it. Thanks.” 

I grimaced awkwardly before shrugging and walking to fix myself some breakfast. This would complicate things. And I couldn’t do that to Connor. I needed to find a way to fix this without him knowing. Evidently, his body being used and worn out like an evening jacket was taking its toll on him. Despite whatever we were going through, he was still my friend. And I couldn’t in good faith add more to that burden. 

“Hey, one of the guys from the gym’s coming over for dinner, that cool?” 

“Yeah man, I’ll just order some extra pizza,” I said back, sighing internally in relief at some semblance of normalcy.

-Still Wednesday -

I met Connor’s gym friend. To be honest, already forgot his name. He gave me a wink when he shook my hand and I couldn’t stop staring all dinner. I think even Connor picked up on it. He looked almost jealous with all the attention I usually gave him being directed at the stranger. The stranger asked to use the bathroom, and I wanted to let him know how to get to it, but he seemed to already know the path.

“Hey bro, is it cool if I stay the night?“ I nodded automatically, lost in deep thought.

There’s something peculiar about the Connor’s gym friend. And I didn’t notice it until I was already in bed. Then hit me like a brick. 

That fucking smirk. 

-End-

If anyone knows who this guy is, please let me know… for.. uh.. research purposes.

[myfavoriteinvestment]

rowaelin month day 1 - can’t help falling in love

prompt: "I just realized I'm desperately in love with you"

-

Meeting Aelin for the first time, Rowan begrudged that she was beautiful. Arrogant as he could be and incessantly swaggering, but she was beautiful. There was something sweet, and yet so sharp, about her features. His eyes traced them greedily the first, the second, the third time he met her, and even today, as she set her bag next to his in the library and took a seat across from him he couldn't help it. He absorbed every bit of her; golden hair and aquamarine eyes ringed with gold. The small nose, sharp but softened by the sun kissed freckles scattered along it. The cheekbones that framed her face and lips painted a threatening shade of red.

"So, Rowan, what'll it be today?" Aelin asked, pulling out her notebook and flipping her hair over one shoulder. He didn't know it yet, but it was a nervous tic.

"The same as yesterday, Aelin. Calculus." He gave her a long suffering look and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was beautiful, but it didn't make tutoring her any easier.

"No originality." She sighed. "How disappointing."

"Let's just start."

So they began, and Rowan questioned not for the first time why she had bothered asking their teacher for a peer tutor. She was clearly skilled. She knew what she was doing. He worked up the courage and asked for the first time.

"I'm pretty busy," She explained. "I just want to make sure that I'm understanding everything and that I know what I'm doing, you know? Sometimes I'm so tired in class and I just want to make sure I'm getting everything. Sorry if that makes this seem like a waste of time." Rowan shook his head. He admired her dedication to her education. He certainly cared for his own, but not this much.

"No, I don't mind at all. I have hockey, but that doesn't really start for a while."

"Right, right, you're on the hockey team! You just don't seem like it when we're sitting in the library and you're teaching me math, you know?"

"And you don't seem like the type to be aspiring for Julliard, but here we are."

"Shhh!" Aelin exaggerated. "That's a secret!" Rowan looked at her pointedly.

As he opened his mouth to say something, another boy walked up to the table they were sitting at. Rowan recognized him. He was a year younger, in Aelin's grade.

"Chaol! What're you doing here? I'd expect Dorian at the library, but you're usually at the gym." Chaol. That was his name. And Aelin seemed to know him, seemed to be very familiar with him in fact. And who was Dorian. Rowan found that these questions rose no matter how hard he tried to tamp them down.

Chaol's cheeks were coated in a slight blush. "Could I talk to you, just the two of us?"

Did he plan on asking Aelin out? Rowan couldn't deny that no matter how much he ignored it, a part of him hoped that wouldn't happen.

"What do you say tutor? Can the two of us finish for the day?"

The other part knew that was stupid, because that was it really. He was her tutor, and maybe they were friends. Acquaintances probably. It wasn't something he wanted to think too much about. So he mumbled a yes and hoped Aelin heard him, beginning to pack his things.

And he froze, because Aelin kissed him on the cheek. Then ran off with Chaol, behind the bookshelves.

Fuck this, he thought. Fuck the searing heat in the spot her lips had pressed against his skin, fuck the fluttering in his stomach, fuck his uneven heartbeat. Fuck the lipstick smudge on his cheek. Still, he bit his lip hard enough to hurt to hold back he didn't know what. A smile? Maybe.

He stood from their table and then Aelin and Chaol popped back out of the bookshelves. "Guess who has a date?" She sing songed. The lightness in his chest turned sticky and heavy like tar and it became hard to breathe. "Me, stupid. God, don't look at me like that, it's not that confusing!"

"That's- it's nice."

"It's very nice, Rowan, thank you very much. See you tomorrow? I'll tell you all about it after you teach me fancy math, I promise." Aelin smiled and whirled around, walking out of the library with Chaol.

After that, Rowan had no choice but to come to terms with his feelings for Aelin. He didn't just think she was beautiful, she was funny and her wit and swagger was captivating. Conversations with her were entertaining and he noticed the small things she did, like the way she narrowed her eyes when she concentrated or sighed under her breath when she didn't understand.

Tutoring sessions were his time with her, but they became almost unbearable. Chaol stopped by every day within the first hour of their two hour session, dropping off a coffee that he could tell was too bitter and kissing Aelin before going about his own business.

In March, when colleges were sending acceptance letters out, Rowan would be lying if he said Aelin wasn't the first person texted when Yale sent him the letter saying he got it. The next day, Rowan found Aelin at their table, books and papers out, two cups of steaming liquid. She looked up as he set his things down and smiled wide at him.

"How does it feel to know you're going to an Ivy?" She asked, and passed him a cup. He pried off the lid and smiled when the sweet smell of jasmine tea wafted up to him. He preferred it to coffee. Aelin, though was drinking coffee, and he suspected it had far too much sugar for it to be healthy.

"It feels great. And nerve wracking, honestly." He replied. She nodded.

"Yeah, I can see how. I'd be freaked out too if I got into such a prestigious college."

"And maybe you will." He raised his brows. "Julliard?"

She sighed exaggeratedly. "I don't think I'm good enough for Julliard, truthfully."

"Well, apply next year. If only so you can come visit me at Yale." Aelin's face brightened with a mischievous smile.

"If you say so."

They settled into comfortable silence for a bit, and then Rowan started their review for the day. When it had been an hour and a half and Chaol hadn't stopped by yet, he had to ask. "Where's the boyfriend?"

"No longer my boyfriend. Looks like I have to buy my own coffee from now own." She sighed in that dramatic way of hers again. Rowan couldn't help the overwhelming relief that slammed through him. Now he could-

He could what? He could ask her out? Tell her that he knew Chaol had never bothered to properly learn her coffee order because he noticed the way she winced when she sipped the too bitter liquid? Tell her that he knew she was brilliant on the piano, though he'd only heard her play once? That she was beautiful and smart and funny and so, so brilliant, and they'd only have a year together before he left?

He couldn't do it. Or maybe you're afraid, that awful voice everyone had in their head mocked him. Rowan didn't want to admit to that either.

So all he said was, "Oh, I'm sorry." Aelin flashed a smile at him, and it twisted a knife through his gut because it wasn't her swaggering grin. It was gone sooner than it had come. They continued with their session until two hours came to an end and Aelin stood abruptly, leaving the library faster than she did before.

On May 3rd, Aelin turned 17, and Rowan remembered it. He carried her present with him all through the day. It was tucked into a small black box, her name written in gold marker in his quick scrawl. When he sat at their table at the library, he felt like the wait for her had been broken down into each separate millisecond. It was torture on his stomach, his heartbeat pulsing and fluttering in and out of it.

After what felt like decades, Aelin sat down across from him. "Hey Rowan," She smiled at him. In all the time they'd spent together, he had learned all her different smiles. There were the ones that curled at the left side of her mouth and made her shoulders pull back arrogantly. She was sure to start teasing him when her smile pulled slowly, eyes glinting mischievously. When she smiled like that, he couldn't help but grin himself.

But this smile, the one that was pure happiness, simple joy, it was his favorite. She looked at him from across the table and her eyes gleamed with it, sparkling, the shades of turquoise and gold even more vibrant. Aelin furrowed her brows and he realized he'd been staring.

"Happy birthday!" Rowan blurted out.

Aelin's brows rose and she laughed into that beautiful smile of hers and he was knocked breathless again. "Thank you, Rowan."

He reached over into his bag and pulled out the flat black box. "I got you- I don't know if- I figured-"

"Thank you, Rowan," She said again, smiling wider and coming to his side of the table and kneeling next to him so she was just a bit shorter. "Now let me see what's in her."

She traced her fingers over the box, her smile growing softer. "I love your handwriting, you know. I know you think it's messy, and it is, but it's the pretty kind of messy, you know?" She looked over at him and blushed a little. "I love your handwriting." She traced the five letters of her name written in his scrawl again.

And then Aelin opened the box, and she gasped a little. It was simple, he knew that, but most of Aelin's necklaces were, to his notice. It was something she'd be able to wear with most outfits. She pulled the gold chain out of the crushed velveteen it was laid on and looked closer at the turquoise gemstone pendant.

"I- The color, it reminded me of your eyes, so you know..." He trailed off.

She turned to look at him. "I love it, Rowan," and Aelin threw her arms around his neck, red lipstick blurring in the quickness. It was his raging pulse, it was a fiery inferno, it was his urge to kiss her. She was so near, so close to him, lavender and lemon verbena intoxicating him.

And why not? There was nothing to lose.

He pulled back from where his head was pressed to her neck, arms holding her tightly. Rowan wasn't sure whether he moved first or she did. But their mouths were upon each other, softer than he'd thought he would kiss her. But it was soft, it was sweet, it was everything he had wanted to do after sitting across from her all year long.

When Aelin pulled back from his mouth, she huffed a little laugh and rubbed his lips lightly with her thumb. “You’ve got lipstick on your lips now.” She smiled, pressing her forehead into his neck.

Holding her against his body, red lipstick smudged against his lips, standing in the school library, Rowan had never felt so calm. So warm. So happy. And he realized, with a desperate suddenness, he loved the girl in his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered against her hair. And it was peaceful.

[tomtenadia]

My Thursday crush

Rowaelin month - Day 4 - Library or librarians

It was a nice spring day in Orynth and Rowan was slowly walking to work. Headphones on and a book in his hands. He had developed the skill of reading and walking to the point of perfection.

His friends made fun of him but he always replied that if it was socially acceptable for people to walk with their faces in their phones and not paying attention, then a book was surely better. And he never bumped into anyone.

He stopped at the coffee shop around the corner from his job and got his usual order, placed the thermos in the backpack and walked the last stretch.

The library was still closed and it was his job to open it. He had volunteered for the morning shifts since he was a morning person and was happy to open up.

Once he was inside he went through the motions of opening up for day and getting the library ready. Rowan switched on the public computers and then did a walkthrough to make sure everything was looking good. He found a few books abandoned in places where they did not belong and groaned. He loved his job, he loved books. 

He had a degree in library studies and once graduated he applied and got a job at Orynth main public library. The place was huge and he had grown up visit the building a lot. He had started using it thanks to his mum who had passed her love for books to him. That love never left him and growing up he realised he wanted a job where he could spend his day with books. But people? People annoyed him. The way they would just abandon books after using them, or the way they sometimes they would not respect the peace of a library. He was not a people person. 

He grunted again and placed the books back where they belonged. Then he growled savagely when he noticed one abandoned on a chair, upside down, spine broken and a dog ear on one page as bookmark. Some people deserved to have their library card cut to pieces.

At 9am on the dot he opened up and welcomed his morning regulars “Good morning mrs MacLeod.”

“Oh, good morning, Rowan darling. Is my book here?”

He smiled at the woman and went to the shelf where they kept the returns that had been booked by someone else and grabbed her book.

“Yes,” he passed it to her “it was returned yesterday and we set it aside for you.”

The woman gave him a huge smile and he finished the loan procedure “I hope you will like it. It’s a nice story.”

“I am sure I will, darling. You always recommend me good books.”

He helped her to the door and went back to work, preparing the loan requests they had got online. A wide smile spread on his face at the name he saw on the list. He was not a fan of people but there was one person whose presence he had started to enjoy deeply. She was another regular and a bookworm like him. She had told him that she had to get some of her books from the library to avoid going broke on payday. He had laughed at the joke because it was the same for him.

She was a teacher and on Thursdays she was off and would always visit the library to return a book and get a new one. They would talk about what they were reading and he discovered they had the same tastes and he had been reading a lot of her recommendations. She was just obsessed with books as he was. Rowan had started to admit to himself that he was crushing on her. She had stolen his heart when one day she came to the desk and complained, outraged, that the book she wanted to borrow had a coffee stain on a page. They had raged for ten minutes together at the animals and his heart skipped a beat. It did help as well that the woman was stunning. Her hair was a deep gorgeous blonde and she had the most incredible blue eyes with an unusual ring of gold. Yes, he was definitely a fool in love and Thursdays were his favourite day of the week. Since she started visiting he had never had another Thursday off.

***

Aelin had a bad morning already. She had gone to the gym and found it closed for some obscure reason. Then an idiot on his phone bumped into her and made her spill her coffee. She had shouted a large list of expletives at the savage and left. It was Thursday and she could not let anything ruin her favourite day of the week. She was on her way to the library to collect the book she had reserved. But if she was to be honest to herself, she was looking forward to see Rowan. The librarian had become one of his favourite people, although they only meet once a week, her time spent with him talking about books was always precious. 

It did help that the man was hot. As in so unbelievably handsome that he was so out of her league. In the months they had interacted she had developed a crush on him and not just for his unique features. He had short silver hair and the deepest pine green eyes and the days he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows she had spotted a wonderful tattoo in the old language. He had an incredible nice build and tanned skin. He was hotness incarnated. A heart attack on two legs.

Knowing her luck with men, he was happily married, although on a closer inspection she had not spotted a wedding ring. Well, probably a super hot fiancee. She definitely stood no chance with him.

But she had liked him as well because he was smart and loved books just as fiercely she did. He was always ready to suggest some new titles and all his recommendations had been spot on. She had enjoyed every single book. A part of her wished she’d have the courage to ask him out and talk about books perhaps in front of a coffee. Aelin was actually curious to discover what else he liked.

Twenty minutes later she finally reached the public library. She loved that building and her parents had nudged her towards becoming a bookworm. They would read to her and once she was able to read alone, they would gladly buy all the books she wanted. Her childhood home also had a proper library and she would spend hours in there travelling with her imagination. 

She stared at the building and finally walked in. She climbed the marble stairs and reached the adult lending library section. On the lower floor they had an area all dedicated to kids.

She opened the glass doors and her eyes went straight to the desk scanning the area for a head of silver hair. Sadness hit her when she did not see him around. It really was going to be the day from hell. She walked to the fiction section and as she turned the corner around a stack of shelves she crashed into someone. What was with her and crashing into people today?

She was about to apologise when she looked up and noticed who she had bumped into. It was Rowan. Gods, even his name was perfect. That day he was wearing a blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, jeans and a pair of rimless glasses. She had so many improper thoughts.

“Aelin, sorry I didn’t see you…” his voice thick with his accent from Wendlyn. 

“Hi,” she managed, trying to bring her feelings under control “I thought you were off. I came in and you were not around.” Oh she sounded like a lovestruck teenager.

“I was placing some books back on the shelves.” He indicated the pile in his arms.

Aelin spotted one of the titles “that is a great story. I read it about five times already.” Pointing to a specific title.

Rowan had a look at the book and read the blurb “I’ll set it aside.”

“You look good with glasses.” She blurted out and then blushed. She was flirting like a moron.

He gave her a smile that reached his eyes and her heart skipped a beat. Gods, the things she’d do to him…

“I have the book you reserved, by the way,” and he started walking back to the counter and she followed. 

Aelin gave him her card and he processed the loan for her “you know the drill, right?”

“I am going home and spill coffee all over it.” Had it been someone else she knew he would have been horrified but that had become their inside joke. He knew she would never do anything of the sort.

***

Rowan processed her loan and took that moment to think about a good way to ask her out for coffee although he was afraid he was going to get a crushing rejection. She was probably taken already. A woman like her was definitely not single. Plus, she was definitely out of his league. He was about to ask her but froze and decided to leave it.

“I’ll just go and have a look around.” She told him, and he knew she was trying to put some distance between them. How could he even hope she would fall for him? He was the most boring man on earth. That was what Lyria had said when she dumped him. He sighed heavily and went back to his job but his gaze followed Aelin through the bookshelves. In his head he had different conversations he wanted to try. He usually was quite good and in the past he had picked up his share of women in pubs. But with Aelin it was different. He did not want to pass as a pig. All he wanted to tell her was that he found her attractive and fascinating and take her out for a coffee. Then he had an idea.

He walked to a shelf and picked a book that he knew she’d love. He was planning on recommending it to her another time but that was now his tool for his plan.

He scribbled down a note on a post it and placed it in the book, then walked to her “I was meaning to recommend you this one. Loads of angst but it’s a great story, and the female main character is just as badass as you like it. I already checked it out for you.”

The smile she gave him left him breathless “Thank you, Rowan. That’s why you are my favourite librarian.”

Eventually she had to leave and he wished it was Thursday already.

***

It was later in the afternoon when she got home after all her errands. She took her two books from her messenger bag and flipped through the one Rowan had given her until she spotted something bright green through the pages. She reached the post it note and read it.

I think you are perfect and a very fascinating woman. I will eagerly wait for next Thursday. Hopefully you will let me take you out for a coffee. Rowan.

She squealed in delight and texted Lysandra straight away to tell her about the message Rowan had left her. Rowan, the hottest librarian in the whole of Orynth wanted to go out for coffee with her. She could not believe it was happening, and she had to wait until next Thursday. She was off on Saturday but she had no idea if Rowan worked. She could try, she was so impatient to see him again that waiting was not an option.

***

Rowan got home later that night, got changed and crashed on the sofa and noticed the book abandoned there. It was one of the many Aelin had recommended to him. It was a great story, she definitely had great taste. He grabbed the book and thought about Aelin and the message he had left her. He had been so stupid. It was not high school, they were both adults and leaving messages like a lovestruck teenager was beyond pathetic. He should have talked to her like human beings did. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the sofa. He had probably blown every chance with her. Who would ever go out with a guy who couldn’t even ask a girl out?

The following Thursday

Rowan had opened the library as usual but on that day a sense of unease was making him nervous. He still could not think about the stupid move about putting a message in a book for Aelin. He was positive she was going to ignore him the next time, or stop visiting altogether.

The morning had been busy with new applicants, his usual customers and an avalanche of requests to set books aside. Panic caught him when he saw one from Aelin. Which meant she was coming in and he was not ready. What could he say to her? Sorry I am bad at talking to people so I write secret messages like a teenager? He was embarrassed and he was not ready when he spotted her golden mane of hair appear at the main entrance. He tried to hide but she had spotted him and was now walking towards him with a huge grin. His heart started racing. Was just an impression or she was more gorgeous than usual?

Rowan saw her come to the desk and diligently wait for her turn while he finished serving the three people in front of her.

“Hi stranger,” she said to him once it was her turn.

Rowan felt a savage blush rise on his face “Hi you. I assume you are here for your book.”

Aelin nodded and passed him her library card “and for a coffee date.”

Rowan froze halfway to the computer. He cleared his voice “so you saw my message.”

“And I loved the idea. It reminded me of one of the books I read recently where one of the guard is in love with the princess, they are both bookworms and leave each other messages in books because they need to keep their relationship a secret.”

Rowan smiled “You got me. I took the idea from that book.”

The smile she gave him had the power to almost knock the breath out of his lungs.

“I don’t have school on Saturday. Fancy going out for a coffee?”

Rowan nodded “do you know the coffee shop around the corner from here?”

Aelin nodded in assent “I love that place.”

“I am off this Saturday, so if you want we can go then. It would be lovely to know more about my favourite customer.”

She took a step closer to him, only the counter separating them “favourite customer, eh?”

“Well, the one who gets outraged at people mistreating books. The one who understands my pain.”

Aelin cackled and her hand brushed his when she grabbed the card he was returning to her. 

“I have only one condition.” He added softly.

“Hm?”

“You let me pay. You can scoff as many pastries as you want. It’s my treat.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek “it’s a date.”

When she pulled back she noticed his beautiful green eyes set on her. Maybe she had been too forward?

He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled something down “my number.”

Aelin grabbed the piece of paper happily and winked at him “Now I have to go. I have loads to do.”

Rowan was sad at the idea “Of course. I will see you Saturday, then?”

“Saturday.” Her heart raced and then walked out of the library thinking that she could not wait two more days before seeing him again.

Rowan followed her with his gaze, happy that she had appreciated and understood the message idea. His hand touched the spot on the cheek that she had kissed and he was positive he was grinning like a lunatic.

They had a coffee date. He could not believe his luck.

But most of all he could not wait for Saturday.

He went to the stacks, looked for a specific book and checked it out under his name, then scribbled a message on a post it and placed it in the book and set it aside.

Ready for Aelin.

She was his Thursday crush.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 4

⚠WARNING: Swearing, mention of previous characters' deaths

• ────── ✾ ────── •

“I just don’t get why no one wants to help me plan the shrine visit and picnic lunch.” Oikawa pushes his now-empty plate away and turns his head. You share a look with Makki and Mattsun.

“We just don’t want to get in the way of your vision.” Mattsun replies. “You’re the most creative of us all and we don’t want to bog you down.”

Oikawa only glances towards Mattsun before glancing at you and Makki. You both put on your most sincere faces, hoping to placate your irritated friend. It seems to do the trick, as he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Well of course I’m the most creative. I guess I can plan everything and tell you all what to do.”

You smile at Oikawa, nodding. “That sounds good.” You enjoy the last bit of your dinner, keeping your eyes on your plate.

Since Hajime’s passing, there’s been a visible gap in your friend group. It’s not a gap that can easily be replaced or filled, but the balance of your group has been thrown way off course.

Makki and Mattsun try to lighten things up with jokes but most of the time they fall flat. And it’s not fair to always depend on them to keep the mood light when they can’t muster the energy to do it.

Most of the time you’ve remained silent on the outings. You’ll laugh at the jokes from Makki and ask everyone about their days, but nine times out of ten you’re hindered by the absence of Hajime to make meaningful conversation.

Surprisingly, the most consistent of your friends is Oikawa. But since there’s no Iwa-chan to reign him in, he has become the leader of your group - making plans, driving conversation and trying to keep your group from falling apart. The only problem is that Oikawa has utilized more...forceful tactics to get what he wants.

“For lunch tomorrow we’ll have to meet somewhere by the gym because I have training in the afternoon.” Oikawa states later, while everyone is leaving the restaurant. “And we have to get salads or something similar, I can’t eat anything heavy before.”

You send a quick glance to Mattsun, pleased to see Makki holding his boyfriend’s hand tightly. Of everyone Mattsun is the one who snaps back against Oikawa the most, unwilling to deal with his antics. Makki is the best at keeping him calm while you would try to keep Oikawa from escalating the issue.

“Oh, I can’t meet tomorrow, sorry. I’m getting lunch with my friend.”

Your friends all give you questioning looks - Makki and Mattsun look more excited (and ready to tease you if necessary.) But Oikawa narrows his eyes.

“Is this the same friend you ditched us for lunch yesterday and today?” His tone is accusatory and you inwardly sigh. So it’s going to be this kind of night.

“Yes.” You don’t want to beat around the bush but you don’t want to antagonize your friend with smart-ass answers. “He wanted to get lunch again so I agreed, I wouldn’t if we were planning on getting lunch.”

Oikawa scoffs. “You should always plan on getting lunch with us, Y/N.”

“Oikawa I think you’re skipping over an important detail.” Makki steps in, inadvertently stopping Oikawa from going off on you. But before you can relax he turns to you with a shit-eating grin. “You’re meeting with a guy?”

Shit.

Mattsun appears over Makki’s shoulder, giving a similar smirk. “Please elaborate, Y/N-chan. Who are you meeting with?”

“And when can we expect an introduction?”

You give Makki an annoyed look at his extra question. “His name is Osamu, and we worked on a project together for one of our classes. We worked well together so we decided to get lunch. It’s no big deal.” Your last sentence is directed to Makki and Mattsun, both waggling their eyebrows.

Despite their childish behavior you’d take it every day over Oikawa’s snide attitude.

“Osamu, huh?” Oikawa looks down at you with his head tilted to the side questionably. “How come this is the first we’ve heard about him?”

You shrug. “It’s no big deal, Oikawa. Don’t be a jerk.”

“Hey I’m just wondering why you never wanted to tell us about him.” He held his hands up innocently. “Are you keeping other secrets from us perhaps?”

You feel your eyes narrow and you can’t help but let a little venom into your words. “I’m not keeping secrets, Oikawa. Osamu and I worked on a project together, he found out about Hajime and I found out that he lost his twin brother, so maybe I’ve found another friend who I can relate to.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen marginally at the mention of Hajime and he doesn’t reply. His hands lower and he looks off to the side. You see Makki and Mattsun stiffen before Mattsun steps closer to his boyfriend.

It’s no wonder that people tell you not to joke about death or dying. It’s easy for people who haven’t understood how devastating the loss of a loved one is to make those simple jokes, because they’ve never experienced the instant the mood of a group plummets. It’s a powerful weapon, made to bring the strongest down a few notches. It’s one you wouldn’t ever use unless absolutely necessary, and even this time mentioning how you and Osamu were able to bond over your shared trauma was a slip made out of anger. But it was effective in shutting Oikawa up.

“Oh.” Makki says into the stifling silence. Oikawa still hasn’t looked away from the ground and now you feel guilty again for bringing the mood down. Twice in two days is not a record you wanted to make. Makki speaks up again. “That’s so sad, how did you find out about that?”

Here is where you hesitate, because you can’t say that you were texting Hajime’s old phone number and serendipitously the stranger receiving those messages not only is a student at the same university you attend but also lost someone close to him, and you agreed to meet with him for coffee after five minutes of your “meeting.”

“I think it just came up organically,” you reply, hoping you sound somewhat nonchalant with your fabricated explanation. “I don’t really remember the conversation exactly.”

“Huh.” Mattsun says. “Well if you guys are going to hang out more maybe see if he wants to come to our group therapy sessions. The next one’s in a few days.”

At this Oikawa whips his head up and glares at Mattsun. He doesn’t say anything in response to Mattsun’s suggestion but he looks livid. Mattsun in turn meets Oikawa glare with his signature, unaffected gaze.

“Okay, we’re gonna head out now.” Makki grabs his boyfriend’s arm and steers him towards their apartment. “Oikawa, we’ll text you about lunch tomorrow. Y/N, I want all the details from your ~date~”

“It’s not a date!” You call, but Makki doesn’t reply save for a little hand wiggle he sends over his shoulder. You sigh out loud and shake your head at your friends’ antics.

You turn to your silent companion, who has taken to glaring at the ground again. “Are you ready to leave?” He doesn’t answer you, not even nodding in agreement, but he stands straight and you both move together towards your apartment buildings.

Oikawa speaks up after a few blocks of walking in silence. “Did Osamu really lose his brother?”

“Excuse me?” You turn to your friend, appalled at such a question. “Are you really fucking asking if he was lying?”

“I’m just looking out for you.” Oikawa doesn’t meet your angry gaze but his voice has lost its disapproving tone. “Some idiots will lie to get sympathy or try to connect and get closer to you. It’s fucked up.”

Still feeling aggravated you turn forward and roll your shoulders. “I guess. But you didn’t see him. You’d have to be blind to take one look and think he’s okay.” His tired face pops into your head again, the look of a person just trying to scrap by one day at a time. It hurts to think about.

“Do you like him?”

You turn back to your friend, angry again, to see him giving you a calculated look. There’s something else there too, almost something like indignant hurt.

You know why he’s looking at you like that and it makes something in your stomach twist.

Oikawa is the only other person to know of your love for Hajime. He pried it from you years ago but had sworn on his own hair products that he wouldn’t tell a soul. In spite of Oikawa’s general obnoxiousness and seemingly fictitiousness, deep down he’s a very loyal friend. And even though he knew one of your deepest secrets, you knew it was safe with him.

But he badgered you for days on end to confess to Hajime and every time you told him no. He was annoyingly persistent, but not once did he say well what now? after Hajime passed.

You missed that annoying weirdo. You don’t like the possessive, mean and cruel Oikawa that’s taken his place.

“I don’t like him like that, Oikawa.” You say now, turning back ahead first this time. “He’s just a friend.”

You feel Oikawa’s gaze on you still but you don’t look back. He doesn’t say another word to you, save for a short remark when you leave to go into your apartment building.

“Have fun on your date tomorrow.”

He drops that line and walks away, leaving you to stare after your friend with your gut twisting.

Why does he have to do this?

Insecurity, jealousy, anger, depression - maybe a mix of all four and more. It’s partly why you’re giving him a pass for now.

Your phone pings when you get into your apartment, and you feel the tension from the day leave your body when you lock the door. You feel wrung out and you honestly just want to sink to the floor and just lay there.

Before you give into your urge to become one with the floor you pull your phone out to see who texted you.

If it’s Oikawa I’m going to flush my phone down the toilet.

But you’re pleasantly surprised to read the screen and not see it was Oikawa who messaged you. You unlock your phone to read the text, feel a smile tug at your lips and send a reply back.

Glancing down at the floor, it suddenly doesn’t look as appealing as it did before. You walk through the apartment, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: And we get a bit more of a glimpse into Y/N's friend group, and the dynamic is.......not ideal. Hopefully the friends can work through their problems and help each other......anyway, thank you for reading!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

[1234-angelika]

Hospital Visits

an:Hey y'all! This ones coming out a little late, I meant it to be out yesterday but here we are. Still super excited for this week even though we're nearing the end. Still have some content coming out in the next few days for the series as a whole. This is the second installment in the Happily Ever After series for Luke. As always, enjoy!

words:1.2 k

warnings:canon-typical injury, mentions of canon-typical violence, hospital setting

summary:"There's a difference in living and living well. You can't have it all, all by yourself. Something's always missing, 'til you share it with someone else."-George Strait

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

Over the next two months, you often found yourself in the company of Luke and Roxy, who had both become good friends during that time.

It had become a routine to walk through the park whenever you were on your way home in hopes of running into the two of them. In those two months, it had happened just over a handful of times, but when it did, the three of you would hang out until the sun went down. You hadn't seen him for a couple of days, so you assumed he was just busy. He hadn't shared what he did for work. All you knew was that he was a former US Army Ranger.

You had started today bright and early. You were up and 'ate before the sun was even fully up. Being self-employed meant doing tasks that you wouldn't do in a typical 9-5 job. Monday meant payday so, after a hard gym session and a soothing shower, you set to work. First was balancing the books and determining final costs. Next was making the list of people to be paid, and last was sending out the payments. After all, was said and done, you felt like you could relax a little bit. You ordered yourself breakfast from your favourite restaurant and just chilled for the morning, with the occasional Instagram shot, of course.

Around noon, you began to get ready to actually do some work. You were filming another unboxing video, with packages leftover and some new from your PO box, and reviewing some clothing brands that had been sent to you. You got ready quickly but precisely, remembering that you were going to be on camera for hours and under the lights for just as long. After getting prepared, you set to work.

You worked for hours until finally, you took a short break to recharge. With some water, a snack and a bathroom break, you were ready to work again. As you set up for your next video, your phone rang. Startling you out of your concentrated state. The blocked number on the screen was enough to encourage you not to answer the phone but, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Hello?" You said, answering your phone.

"Is this Y/N Y/L/N?" Asked a cheery voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah. Sorry, who is this?"

"Darling, my name is Penelope Garcia. I work for the FBI—"

"FBI? Did I do something wrong?" You asked, panicked, trying to rack your brain for any reason the FBI would be calling you.

"—No, not at all. I understand that you know Supervisory Special Agent Luke Alvez," She answered in a soothing tone, helping you to calm down a bit but still not entirely sure why the FBI would call you, even if it was for Luke.

"I met him a few months ago but, I just know him as Luke. We usually hang out at the park with his dog…."

"Okay well, darling, he's been shot." She said, getting straight to the point.

"What?!"

"He was shot in the arm, he had surgery but the doctors said he will make a full recovery and he kept mumbling your name as he was coming out of the sedation. I'll send you the address of the hospital."

"Thanks Penelope…" You said, kind of numbly. Mostly just trying to absorb the information you had just been given.

"Good luck Y/N!"

You quickly changed out of the sample clothes and into a comfy outfit. Slipping on shoes hurriedly, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door. After locking the door behind you, you went down to your car. Clicking on the location pin Penelope had sent you, you started up the GPS and set on the way to the hospital. You quickly got frustrated trying to find parking in the parking lot and decided to park on the street instead. You all but jogged into the hospital, looking for anyone who could provide you with an update. The head nurse just pointed you to an official-looking woman who was in the waiting room. You walked up to her and took some deep breaths before introducing yourself.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

Pointing to the nurse's station, you said, "They told me you could give me an update on Luke Alvez."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N, a friend of Lukes. Who are you?"

You didn't even finish your sentence before a look you couldn't quite make out made its way onto her face.

"I'm supervisory special agent Emily Prentiss. I'm Lukes boss, I can take you to him."

The two of you set off walking through the never-ending corridors. In the silence, questions just kept swarming your head. In an attempt to keep them at bay, you asked, "What happened to him?"

She turned, briefly looking at you before she said, "Officially, I can't say too much. In the course of apprehending our UnSub, he got shot. The bullet knicked his subclavian artery, which is basically the shoulder area. He'll have to stay at the hospital 3 days but the doctor said he will make a full recovery."

You knew you were the one who asked, and she was just answering your question, but, at that moment, you had never wanted to yell at someone more. Where was his partner—assuming he has one? How did this happen? You only noticed you arrived at his room when Emily stopped walking. She opened the door and led you into the room before walking back out. Leaving you alone, with a sleeping Luke, to wait. After a couple hours in the hospital and you began to get hungry. You were reaching out for the Jell-O on his tray table when a hand grabbed your wrist.

"Don't take the jell-o please," a groggy voice startled you the same way the hand had.

You turned to see if the voice had come from Luke, and to your surprise, you found his warm brown eyes looking back at you. Jumping up to hug him, you shrieked, "Luke!"

A little confused, he asked, "Y/N, when did you get here?"

"You kept muttering my name to the doctors when you were coming off of the anesthesia."

"Well, I've been thinking about you while I'm working."

"What about me?"

He took a deep breath, and you noticed his heart sped up as the monitor beeped faster.

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you go on a date with me?"

A smile blossomed on your cheeks, and a warmth spread throughout your body, and you said jokingly, "well, with you on your deathbed, how could I say no?"

taglist:@multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife

[mxtcha-tea]

Useless Love Letter.

✎desc; when he receives a love letter from someone else and you're unphased by it.

✎pairing[s]; tsukishima x gn!reader, matsukawa x gn!reader (let me know if i miss any)

✎genre; angst, unrequited love (not proofread)

✎warning[s]; cursing

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; AHHSHDBJSJSUD WRITER'S BLOCK HITS ME WHEN I'M DOING KUROO'S PART HNNNN, please give me ideas for this...

Tsukishima Kei

You stopped right in front of your classroom’s door frame when you saw a girl shyly standing in front of you while looking down on the floor. Her rosy cheeks peaked from her long and beautiful hair, biting her lip. You recognize her from the other class since she has been visiting your class a few times.

Then, your eyes landed on the letter, slightly crumpled up on her hand. Your mind spiralled a bit at your first thought, that she’s going to give you a love letter, but then again, you snapped out from the thought and focus back on her figure,

“Can I help you?”

She flinched, slowly looking up from the ground and making brief eye contact with you, “Um, c-can you hand this to...Tsukishima….?”

Handing you the letter in her hand as you sighed in relief internally, taking it from her, “You mean Kei? Sure, I’ll let you know his reaction okay?” The girl slowly looks back at you again, giving her a small smile.

A blink as a response as a small smile started forming up on her face before nodding and started jogging back to her class.

You sighed, looking at the love letter for your beloved best friend, “Ah, young love~”

A chuckle escaped from your lips at the thought despite not even being that different in age gap with Tsukishima. You turned around, finding his figure sitting on his desk while listening to his headphones as always. You walked towards him and sat on the chair in front of you.

The male opens his eyes at the sound you made with the chair and put on an annoyed look, expecting yet another rant from you until he saw the mischievous smirk plastered upon your face,

“What do you want?” He blandly asked, not even bothering to put his headphones down. You pouted at that,

“Oh, c’mone, can’t you be more nice with me? I even bring good news right now,”

Tsukishima lifted a brow as his eyes traveled around you until the familiar white envelope caught his eyes. His breath hitches a bit as his cheeks started heating up. Without making it any obvious for you of course.

Is that a love letter? Why do you have one in your hand right now? Are you...confessing to him? He mentally slaps himself in the face and focuses back to what you have to say, hoping that it is about the love letter, “What?”

You hold out the letter onto his face with an excited grin, covering his face. He groaned, trying to put it back down but still took a glimpse of the small red heart in the middle. He snatched it from your hands, finally putting down his headphones and examined it.

Before he can ask you any questions to make it seem like he’s oblivious to it (but in reality he’s not), you spoke first.

And oh boy, it’s really not what he’s hoping for,

“The girl from class 3 asked me to give it to you, and as you can tell, I think she has a little crushy- crush on you~” You grinned, quite oblivious to the emotions welled up inside him now.

Not like he’ll show it any obvious anyway. The slight hope in his eyes died down as he looked back at the letter with no emotions. As if the letter itself has no meaning whatsoever to him.

It’s true, because it’s not from a certain person in his mind, so why would he look at it with excitement?

“Yeah, sure, so what?” You frowned at his response, putting the letter down on the very corner of his desk while rolling his eyes and putting his headphones back on, “What’s with that response? Don’t you feel, I don’t know, excited or something? I mean, I would get excited if I get a love letter from someone,”

‘Because it’s not from you’

“Because there’s no purpose to it? How do you even expect me to react when someone give me a stupid letter? Also, how come you’re not even bothered by it?”

The last question slips from his lips as he yelled at himself internally but trying to not make it any more obvious that he didn’t mean to say that. Thankfully you didn’t caught on to it, like every other time,

“Should I be bothered by it tho? I think that I’m happy that you finally receive one because your lonely ass needs a s/o. You shouldn’t ignore it too, y’know,” You pouted, resting your head on your palm while looking out from the class window.

Tsukishima frowned, it’s not the response he’s hoping from you, then again, he should’ve seen it coming. But it still hurts,

“I already promised her that I’m going to tell her your response-” “Just tell her that I don’t accept the confession,” He sighed, waving his hand around as he buried his head on his arm, avoiding your stare,

“Tch, whatever I guess, if she cries because of it then you’re responsible for it,” He grunted, looking back onto your eyes.

They look as pretty as ever, just like yesterday, and honestly everyday. But he can still couldn’t admit it,

“Shut up, have you finished the english work?” You widen your eyes at that panickly holding onto his table, “FUCK, I HAVEN’T FINISHED THE LAST ONE YET,”

You quickly went to your seat and rummaged around your bag, pulling out two books and a pen before landing back at your previous seat. The blonde sighed, rolling his eyes and put down his headphones while watching you flip through the english textbook.

The love letter left next to him.

Tsukishima walked through the hallway with Yamaguchi next to him. In the end, he still keeps the love letter thanks to your pestering. If you hadn’t stopped him from throwing it away, he could’ve caught into some unnecessary drama.

Yamaguchi takes a glance at the blonde next to him, then at the letter inside his pocket. Slightly crumpled and dirty from the amount of ignorance he gave to it, “Tsuki, sorry to hear about that. So, did they know about it? Y’know, about your crush on them,”

He kept on walking towards the gym, where Hinata had asked both of them to help him and Kageyama practice a bit during lunch. His face unphased and hands left on his sides,

“No, still oblivious. And I’m pretty sure that…”

His words fell on deaf ears when both of them reached the noisy gym, filled with the balls hitting every corner of the room along with Hinata, Kageyama and…

Your voice.

Both of them took a peek inside through the small opening and his eyes went wide when you spike a ball, holding up your hand in victory and clapping hands with Hinata and Kageyama.

Yamaguchi sighed, half lidded eyes staring at his best friend, “And because they have another person in mind right?” The blonde looked at Yamaguchi and pulled out the letter from his pocket.

Hollowly looking at it’s crumpled up state before averting his pupils back to your beamed figure talking with a flustered Kageyama. The expression you’re wearing is enough to make it obvious on who you’re REALLY into.

Tsukishima clenched his hand, crumpling the letter fully with a dead stare towards both of your figures. He calmed his mind a bit, looking up with his eyes closed avoiding tears falling down.

His friend gave him a pity look, patting his back. He throw the letter at the trash bin and turn his expression back to neutral again,

“I fucking hate them. Whatever, it’s not like I care anyway,”

Matsukawa Issei

“Fuck, gross!”

You punched Matsukawa’s shoulder, laughing in the process while walking with him towards your classroom. He chuckled, shrugging slightly and catching the familiar frame of both you and his class,

“What? I already told you it was once,” “Shut up loser,” You shake your head, walking ahead of him and entering the classroom. Greeting some of your classmates that’s either talking with one another or playing cards.

The latter yawned, slouching his figure a bit as his eyes caught something on his desk. He stares at it for a second before realizing it’s a letter and a little bento. He walked towards it and lifted the letter up, “[y/n]!”

After putting your watch down on your desk, you look back at him, “Hm?” He held the letter up as it caught your attention. You walked towards his desk and take a look at the letter closer,

“Oh fuck, you got a confession letter!” Matsukawa looks at the letter back and flip it showing a name written in cursive, “Miyahara...Sora,” He read it out loud as you widen your eyes at that,

“MIYAHARA?? Mattsun, that’s like, the sweetest girl in our whole school, she likes you?” He barely shrugged, “Seemed so,”

You rose a brow at that, “Aren’t you excited? She’s really popular and to know that she has a crush on you?? Of all people?”

“Oh shut up, who’s even getting the letter right now?” He lightly hit your head and put the letter down, grabbing the bento next. He opens it as your eyes sparkled at the content. As expected from the cinnamon roll of a person Miyahara is, the food was aesthetically pleasing to look at and even smells good for bonus point,

“Well, at least she’s one good housewife,” “Oh my god, stop with your housewife kink,” You groaned, earning a laugh from him as he handed it to you, “And you seemed like you wanted a taste,”

You flinched at his statement and wearily looked at the bento in front of you. You wanted to refuse since it’s for him but the octopus sausage is practically calling you to eat it,

“Fuck this,” You grabbed one of it and chewed happily, making a sound of content as the ravenette watches you eat it. But, now that he started realizing it, you didn’t seem bothered by him getting a love letter from some popular girl that he didn’t bother to know about.

In fact, it looks like you’re actually rooting for the romance between him and ‘Miyahara’ to blossom.

His smile faltered a bit but then he put back his usual grin when you turn your head to him, “Can I eat one more- wait, no! It’s for you, one is enough,” “Are you sure?” “...”

You reached out your hand to grab the onigiri and stuffed it inside your mouth, earning a chuckle from Matsukawa, grabbing one too,

“Mn, what did she put in here? Tuna mayo?”

“Hm, taste like it honestly,”

“It’s good, dang I hope that I can have her make bentos for me,”

“Yeah, sure,”

The letter’s still rested on his hand, he fiddled with it and left it unopened. He doesn’t want to open it since he could already tell that he won’t feel anything while reading it. Matsukawa saw your figure running towards him as you stopped right in front of him, panting,

“Hey chief, you okay?” He asked with a lopsided grin, you stand up straight and look at him with a glare, “Why didn’t you tell me that you don’t have practice right now?! I had to deal with Oikawa’s ass inside the gym and cleaning it up since none of the others want to!”

He dodged your attacks as you continue your rambling, “And what’s worst is that your stupid volleyball gym is so fucking far away from the school main gate!”

You stopped trying to hit him when he catches your wrist and shoving it back down, “Geez, sorry I guess, don’t get so worked up with it since you knew that this isn’t the first time it happened,”

A sigh escaped from you, letting go of his grip as you opened your shoe locker. He chuckled, leaning against the locker with one hand inside his pocket while the other still holding the letter.

While struggling to put your shoes back on, you catch a glimpse of the letter previously from your class, “You still haven’t read it?”

He looks at the letter then back at you, “Nah, I don’t feel like reading it right now,” You scoffed, standing up straight and hit your front shoe onto the floor, “Well, I hope you would read it anytime soon, not making the owner of the letter to wait for your response,”

You froze a bit and looks at him with a small smile, “Wait, don’t tell me you have a crush on me so that’s why you haven’t read it,”

His eyes widened at that as both of you stare into each other, his cheeks heating up at the contact. Was he really that obvious? No, if you had already known it, you would have tease him about it a little earlier. He kept himself calm under your stare as he coughed,

“Pfft, what? Of course not, you’re seriously hallucinating right now,” “Oh,” You chuckled, leaning against the locker besides him, “Thank goodness,”

You easily stated.

Matsukawa can feel himself getting stabbed from the back at your mere words, and he started noticing why you still pestered him to accept the letter. How can it not be any obvious? You don’t love him more than friends.

Then again, you act so carefree around him, you’re always comfortable with him and could effortlessly talk with him without being shy. That it became hard to know if you like him or not.

Some days you would just be next to him engulfed with silence and he would think that you’re in love with him. If only, that was true and not a scenario that he made up. But it’s quite impossible isn’t it? There’s actually no way for you to hold up a more-than-friends feelings towards him.

That’s pretty much the number one ‘not to’ rule as best friends. And he broke that sole rule. How stupid of him, he should’ve known better.

“I just know that you two would be the perfect couple, I mean, you two are so cute together now that I think about it!” You give him a bright smile,

The same smile that made him fall in love, and the same one that got his heart broken,

“I’ll be your number one wing person, so I hope you could read the letter when you got home,” He blinks, chuckling at that while putting on a smile that could’ve mirrored yours, if it isn’t so fake,

“Whatever,”

You smack his shoulder and wave your hand at him, “Loser, see you tomorrow, kachow,” He waved back, almost half heartedly, “Kachow,”

And with that, you’re running out from the gate, trying to not miss the train again. Half way through it, you tripped on a rock but quickly gained balance and started running again.

His hand fell down to his sides, the smile on his face disappearing in a second. He lifted up the letter, almost glaring down on it as he speed walked towards the nearest trash bin.

And almost too easily ripped it into half, throwing it away and not caring that the owner would find it anytime soon. He held up his middle finger at it, sticking his tongue out at the process, “Fuck you, you ruined my fucking life, Miyahara,”

Matsukawa frowned, searching through his pocket and pulling out his phone, dialing a number that’s all too familiar to him.

It let out a few beeps before the call was accepted, “Hey, what’s up?”

Hanamaki’s voice echoed from it, a little bit hoarse from sleeping the whole day. He covered his face, letting a sigh before responding,

“Hey, I know that you’re sick right now, but can I go to your house?”

A line of silence filled in the gap between them before his other best friend responded back, “Is this about [y/n]?” His voice now laced in pity, almost knowing exactly what happened between you two while he’s away.

He let out a forced smile as his vision started to blur and sting from the tears welling up. He bite his lip, trying to calm himself from breaking down right there, letting the whole school see him crumbling,

“Isn’t it obvious enough? I even bet that you had known about this in the first place,”

[ahundredtimesover]

Like a Thief in the Night (FNTO 3)

What were you both trying to prove? That two people can remain just friends?

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that! 

Warnings: foul language, these characters talk alot bc I talk alot, eventual smut

Word count: 4,800

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the café, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: JK gets some sense knocked into him thanks to Seokjin and Jimin bc I am a jinminkook stan. Italicized parts refer to past events. Listen to Home by 1D to prep you for part 4! 

#

Jungkook covers his face with his hands, elbows leaning on the table, right leg shaking constantly. He’s been listening to the track over and over again; the hook sounded good yesterday but why does it seem lacking today? 

“Fuck, I’m not gonna get this done in time,” he curses to himself. It has been a few days since he arrived in L.A. and had met with the producer he reached out to just as he planned. 

He’s been staying holed up in his hotel room though, his daily gym visits being the only other thing, aside from the concerts, that he looks forward to, given the old couple and father-and-son duos he’s been seeing there everyday. The guys and the rest of the team won’t arrive until a few days later, and he hasn’t had any motivation to go around the city.

He plays the track one more time. Maybe this time he’ll figure out what’s missing; is it in the melody? The lyrics? But unsurprisingly, he doesn’t. It sounds just like it did a minute ago, yesterday, 2 days ago. 

You won’t get any more productive being cooped up in here, he’d told you that Saturday when he dragged you out of your apartment for a little excursion. 

It’s been over a week since then. He’d told you the words you always tell him when he’s groaning in frustration to you over the phone because of a certain pitch he can’t get right, or over words that don’t seem to capture what he wants to say. 

He closes his eyes, head thrown over the desk chair and he lets out another grunt. Artists need to go out for inspiration and you don’t seem like you’re getting it here. 

He closes his laptop, wears a cap over his head, and readies himself to go out. “Damn it, Y/N, you win. You always do,” he says to himself, and walks out the door. 

#

It’s quite windy for a summer day in August in L.A., but the sun is still high up enough, slightly blinding Jungkook. The skies are clear, and he thinks it’s a good enough day as any to finally take a trip to the Griffith Observatory. 

He didn’t do much, just stared out at the city below him and enjoyed the fresh air he’d finally allowed himself to breathe. He could see the clouds so clearly from here, all soft and puffy. 

I’d eat those, you’d said not long ago when you were having brunch on your terrace, the warm summer air of Seoul hitting your faces. Of course, you’d eat anything, he’d answered back, earning a smack from you. That makes both of us, you’d said. 

He lets out a low groan. You again. “It’s just clouds, for fuck’s sake,” he says to himself. Somehow this seemed to signal to him that it was time to go.

A hotdog sandwich and soda later, Jungkook finds himself in Hancock Park, the sun slowly dipping down the horizon, making it a good time to just lay on the sprawling greens by the perfectly lined palm trees. 

With hands behind his head, he thinks that it's been a good day. Why you’d said that L.A. isn’t your cup of tea, he never found out. The city seems so dynamic, interesting; it has a little something for everyone, especially the food. He should ask you some time. 

Jungkook pauses his thoughts. Ask you? Why should he? He basically shunned you away, ghosted you for a week and convinced the company to allow him to leave early so he could meet with the producer he could very easily meet in between shows, just so he could get away from you as quickly as possible. 

The confused, pleading, and then defeated look on your face bore into his mind, unwillingly etched there along with the happier images of you - eating your favorite red bean ice cream, laughing so hard that no sound comes out of your mouth, your scrunched up face when drinking sodas, furrowed eyebrows when working, and finally, your sleeping figure bunched up underneath a thick fleece blanket, soft snores escaping you. 

That last one will always be his favorite, had been since that first time you’d asked him to sleep next to you. 

He woke up earlier than you that Sunday, the day after your little trip, body already used to their early morning wake up calls. You were both under the covers, with you taking up most of the blanket, as always. He softly laughed at this when he realized that half of his body was exposed, but this gave him a reason to scoot closer to you and feel your warmth, so he wasn’t complaining. 

You looked so peaceful, so soft, even with slightly furrowed brows as you were engulfed in your dream. A loose strand of hair fell on your face, which he’d tucked gently behind your ear. A smile befell him, thinking of the way his heart was currently beating slow and fast at the same time. How was that even possible? 

But he didn’t mind it, didn’t even think to find an answer. He’d already given up on finding reasons for what you’d been doing to him, what you’d been making him feel. 

He decided right then and there that he will no longer run from what he’s feeling for you, that he will no longer play this up as something that just happened. 

He’s a firm believer of destiny anyway, and yesterday, this moment right now, he feels like he’d dreamt it all before. He’s meant to be here with you, just as he was meant to be at your aunt’s cafe that September day last year to run into you, or that night out last New Year's when Chaewon had lost her car key and was too preoccupied to take care of you so he did, leading to that fateful morning of you in your underwear almost stabbing him - you both did agree that experience solidified your friendship, after all. 

Every other moment after that with you felt real, and more than anything, it felt right. He fell asleep again not long after, your steady breathing lulling him to sleep. His last thought was of the next time he’d wake up next to you like this again, and his heart softens at the thought.

He shakes his head, anger and frustration building up again, not at you but at himself. He was deliberate in his avoidance of you that whole week before he left.

He’d missed you when you were busy and he somehow felt empty. He crashed your Saturday and took you on a little trip - he remembers how fast his heart would beat whenever you’d lean on him, butterflies in his stomach suddenly having grown in size.

After you’d thanked him for being such a great friend - he winces at the word - he felt his heart shatter slowly, and then all at once. 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary because you thank him constantly. He thinks it’s because you feel he could be doing something else other than spend time with you because time for him is a luxury; wealthy as he is, it’s something he can not afford. He never told you though that spending time with you is one of the things he looks forward to, sort of an escape but also a taste of normalcy he’s barely afforded. 

But after a while, your expression of gratitude became more specific - it wasn’t just time you were thanking him for, it was his attention, his care, his thoughtfulness… his friendship. 

Fate was playing a game with him, he thinks, that at the moment he’d decided what he wanted from you and what he could give you - his time, his world, his love at some point - you’d decided to define him, as your friend. How cruel, he whispers to himself. 

He tries to think as you do. You’d probably call him silly for his musings because you never believed in fate or destiny, always thought that things happen as they do, because they do - no grand plan, no specific reason, just a reason, and that was enough for you. 

He goes home from his sightseeing and allows himself to think about you again that night, and the night after. He thinks about your plump lips, soft against his chapped ones. He thinks about how it felt with you close to him, your arms wrapped around his; fingertips just slightly brushing. He’s glad you’d never lay your head on his chest when you sleep, at least he doesn’t know what that feels like - what you don’t know can’t hurt you, after all. 

He let the sound of your laughter and your out of tune singing sing him to sleep, over and over playing in his head. He tortures himself like this. It’s all he could do to get back at himself on your behalf, he thinks. You hurt him without knowing, and he hurt you right back. 

#

“Mind sharing what’s interesting about that text message, Jungkook?” Yoongi calls out from across the table. 

The guys are finally in the U.S., the morning of rehearsal having just wrapped up and everyone is backstage for a lunch break. 

Hoseok shoots Yoongi a look, as if to tell him to talk about it only when Jungkook brings it up first. The older man only shrugs. 

Jungkook picks this up, though; he picks up everything. He knows his hyungs as much as they know him. The questions about the meeting with the producer, how the mixtape is going, any sights he’d seen, new food he’d tried. They’re trying, he figures. 

He could sense the glances everyone is giving each other but him, the topic-change when the conversation is heading to the topic of you, the clearing of throats, the awkward silences. 

“Y/N texted,” Jungkook says after one of those awkward silences. He stares at the screen, as he’s been doing since last night when, just as he was about to finally doze off at 3AM, his phone lights up. You probably thought he was already asleep, not knowing the agony he was putting himself through.

Everyone falls silent but looks at him softly. Seokjin turns to Yoongi, as if telling him to say something and finish what he started, but Namjoin gets to it first.

“You can talk about it, or not. Depends on what you think will help you be ready for the next 2 nights of shows,” the leader says. “Just let us know.”

Jungkook sighs. “I hate myself enough just thinking about her. I don’t know what I’d be if I start talking,” he says. 

“We’ve got time after tomorrow,” he resigns. Everyone nods in agreement. “I need to be at my best for these two nights,” Jungkook says, and proceeds to keep his phone in his pocket and heads out.

#

Y/N: There’s no proper way to say this but I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I thought I had it all figured out. I wanted too many things from you but couldn’t commit to anything. I was selfish and unfair. I hate myself for hurting you the way I did and you didn’t deserve any of that. I’m so sorry.

Jungkook reads the text over and over again, as if doing so will clarify things for him. Wanted too many things? Couldn’t commit to anything? What did you mean? He called you selfish and unfair that day when you showed up at his place, and he hates himself for it, he hopes more than you hate yourself for hurting him. 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, I told her about you leaving early,” Jimin starts. “I probably should’ve picked up that something was wrong when you seemed off that whole day after you got back from her place and should’ve kept my mouth shut.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, hyung,” he responds. “If I hadn’t been an idiot and ghosted her for a week, we could’ve settled it properly instead of dragging you guys into this,” Jungkook says, looking up from his phone. 

He figures you’d eventually reach out to one of the guys about him. Seokjin had likewise reached out to you the other day, asking what was going on, that much he’s said.

“She also didn’t say much when I asked,” Seokjin says from across the table, beer bottle in hand. 

The guys are in a new city and have the next day just for rehearsals. He and Jimin had knocked on Jungkook’s hotel room, in hopes that the younger would be willing to talk. 

“But she did sound pretty out of it,” the elder continues. “What happened, Kook? Everything seemed to be going so well with you two. Unless it’s what we think it is.”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook shoots both of them a confused look.

Jimin sighs. “Who fell first?” He questions. Jungkook’s eyes go wide, but then again, that’s what always happens right? He’s been in denial long enough that you and he were going to go down that route, but his hyungs weren’t. 

Jungkook shuts his eyes before taking a deep breath. 

“I did, at that moment,” he says, referring to that Sunday morning. “I mean, I think I’d felt something before then, but it felt faint, like something fleeting, something abstract, like a thought.” Jungkook drifts a bit, eyes glowing to the memory of you under the blankets.

“But I woke up that morning next to her and I don’t know, for the first time it felt different from all the other mornings. It felt tangible, like something I could hold onto and touch and feel and savor, not just an abstract idea of a person or a feeling,” he looks at his hyungs, eyes shining before they turn downcast. “But she thanked me for being a great friend.”

“Ouch,” Seokjin quips. “No wonder you’ve been moping.”

“I’ve been doing worse,” Jungkook responds. “I’ve been torturing myself, playing that morning, and that day at my house before I left, over and over again.”

“Why are you punishing yourself?” Jimin asks. 

“Because I lashed out on her. I called her selfish and unfair. I told her I wanted to get away from her, that she’s the problem.” 

At this, the two older men look at him, shock painted on their faces at the reveal. This doesn’t sound like their sweet little Kookie, expressing such anger that way.

“I didn’t talk to her for days and she stood there looking worried and sad and I lashed out. I essentially blamed her for the feelings I couldn’t control. She looked at me like I was the one breaking her heart.” 

“Maybe you were, too. Breaking her heart, I mean.” Seokjin quips. At this, Jungkook sighs. “Maybe not in the way you think but… did you even hear her out?”

“No…” Jungkook responds. He didn’t give you a chance. You stood there, demanding an explanation, and he blew you off. 

“Well, I doubt she’d say much. She didn’t know how you were feeling before then, did you really expect anything more? What happened to talking it out? You two always did that,” Jimin asks. 

“Yeah but not about this, not about feelings.”

“What kind of people flirt, kiss, sleep next to each other, and not talk about feelings?” Jimin continues.

“Idiots, cowards, naive people…” Seokjin answers, looking upset. The other two men could’ve easily missed the bitter tone of his voice.

“Yoongi hyung is that you?” Jungkook asks, a laugh almost escaping his lips.

“He’s rubbing off on me but the point is, that’s what you both are. What were you both trying to prove? That two people can remain just friends? She hadn’t let anyone in since her breakup, and you…” Seokjin gesticulates, trying to find the right words for Jungkook. “You are you, Jungkook. You don’t willingly make time just for anyone because you, we, don’t have enough of it. But you always, always make time for her. Both of you kept doing what you were doing, whatever it was, and did you really think staying in the gray area was sustainable? Look what happened!” Seokjin is out of breath, clearly this means a lot to him too. 

“I thought you’d learned enough from me,” he emphasizes the last word, pointing to himself. 

Jungkook and Jimin both soften at the elder, almost forgetting that he knows a thing or two about staying in the gray area, too afraid of crossing invisible lines, too naive to think that good things stay. 

“I teased along with everyone else because you two were enjoying yourselves, seemingly mature enough to roll with the punches and laugh along without it being awkward, and I’m not gonna lie, you guys were pretty cute too, but so many times I wanted to smack your head to knock some sense into you,” he continues. 

“You can never be too complacent about these things, Jungkook. You can never just resign into thinking that the person who makes you feel this happy, this right, can be kept at a distance and just stay there.” 

Jungkook feels it’s cathartic to Seokjin as much as it is for him. He’s right. Both of you should’ve talked about it at some point, perhaps after that first and second kiss, perhaps when it became routine to do that whenever he slept over, perhaps when it started to feel so right having your lips onto his. You were both being naive, thinking that things would remain as good as it was as time went on. 

He should’ve said something earlier, or perhaps talked to you right after that day instead of avoiding you. But more importantly, he shouldn’t have lashed out on you the way he did. His anger was misplaced. Perhaps he was angry at himself for letting it get as far as it did, for letting it affect him as much as it did. 

He let you sneak in his heart just like that, like a thief in the night you crawled in and took from him, and he let you, he always let you. And he never complained because he wanted it too. He wanted you, in whatever way he could have you, but he let his own cowardice get the best of him that day at his house. He lashed out because he was scared, more than anything, that you didn’t feel the same way. 

“I’m sorry, I just…” Seokjin says after a long silence has engulfed the three men, everyone finding a spot in the room to focus on, letting the words sink in. 

“We could all tell how happy she makes you and how soft you are for her. I mean, you let her give you shit for thinking that Ironman is the best Avenger and you never complain when she wears your clothes,” he continues, a smile forming on his lips. 

Seokjin, like the rest of the guys, feel very protective of the youngest. They feel they’ve done their part in raising him and want nothing more than for him to be happy, seeing the amount of pressure he puts on himself. 

“You don’t find that person just anywhere, Jungkook, especially not with the kind of life we live. I would’ve hoped you understood that and made you sure you wouldn’t lose her,” he continues.

“Yah, don’t get ahead of yourself, hyung. He hasn’t lost her yet,” Jimin says, looking at Jungkook to confirm. 

Jungkook buries his face on his hands. “I don’t know, I hope not. But I said hurtful things to her and I can’t take them back. And I’m thousands of miles away and I can’t just fix things from here.”

“Do you even know what you want now? After everything that’s happened?” Seokjin asks.

“I don’t know, depends on what she wants too, I guess,” Jungkook responds.

“Well, you didn’t even give her a chance to say anything so how would you know,” Jimin states the obvious. 

Jungkook lets out a low growl. Of course he didn’t give you a chance to say anything because he left you hanging, all messages unopened, all calls unanswered. And then he left. He felt so brave walking on this undefined territory with you but chickened out the moment things got serious. 

“Look, just… give both of yourselves time. You can’t do much from here anyway, and you’re both too out of it right now to know what to do next,” Seokjin advises. He knows better than anyone that giving yourself time is most important.

“But what if she decides she doesn’t want any of this anymore? That she doesn’t wanna talk to me or have anything to do with me when I get back?”

“Yah! Give yourselves more credit. I know it’s hard but you need to have faith in your friendship, at least,” Jimin reprimands the younger boy. “We’ve still got over a month into this leg of the tour and that’s enough time to figure yourself out.”

Jungkook comforts himself with this thought. But can he manage spending all this time away from you, knowing he left things on a bad note? He can’t fault himself enough for how he left things, and now he has to put faith in your shared friendship that things were going to be okay. 

If you’re meant to be together, it’ll happen; that should be enough, right? He’ll go home soon, and he’ll see you at some point, that’s if you still want to see him. He just has less than 2 months to figure out what he wants, and moreso, what he could give. 

#

It’s been 6 weeks since that day at Jungkook’s house when he implied he had feelings for you. 

You know what else is nice? Calling me to come over on Friday nights when you didn't feel like being out, asking me to stay the night and having me sleep next to you, kissing me and saying you liked waking up next to me then telling me that ‘this feels nice and comfortable and fun’ and that I really am a great friend, he told you then. You were an idiot, that much you’ve figured out.

Other than busying you with a trip to the carnival, baseball nights, arcade Saturdays, and gallons of Baskin Robbins, your friends have done their part in helping you process your feelings and figure out exactly what you feel for the doe-eyed boy. 

They helped you backtrack, as if your story was some sort of mystery that needed clues that would eventually point to what you were looking for - the moment it all changed, for you and maybe for him, too. 

But you realized it wasn’t exactly a moment, it was a series of them - the first time he took you home when you were drunk, that night he came over when you were crying over your ex, when he sang to you over the phone because the thunder was scaring you, when you cried together after rewatching Avengers: Endgame for the nth time… when you first kissed and he tasted of beer and his strawberry chapstick, when you kissed the second time and he didn’t pull away. 

You let yourself drown in those little kisses more than you care to admit. It was all you could give him and you felt it was all he could give in return. You both never went past that act; on your end it was because you knew that anything beyond that would lead to wanting more, something you knew he couldn’t give, something you told yourself not to expect. 

He’d come over whenever he could when you asked, he’d stay over when it was okay to do so. You ask once and nothing more, nothing more than a peck on the lips, nothing more than a Friday evening or a Sunday morning, nothing more than a quick hug, nothing more than a “thank you.”

You knew all this, hence, why you conditioned yourself to think that what you both were was all that you could ever be. He told you once that relationships tend to get messy and he already has enough crazy to deal with. That stuck with you, and perhaps that’s when your mind made the decision to not look at him as anything more. 

But you still kept pushing it, subconsciously you think, knowing there was still an invisible line you shouldn’t cross. You kept doing what you wanted, just waiting for him to say no, but he never did. He never does. He’s always quick to make it up to you when he turns you down. 

This thought suddenly makes you angry. Why didn’t he just say no? That would’ve been better, you think. He could’ve just rejected you instead of coaxing you into this unfamiliar and undefined territory. Now you’re both stuck, unsure of what to do next. You carved this out though, you remind yourself. 

Anything “more” with him was definitely not an option, so you created your own path towards something that isn’t “more,” just something short of it. 

You look over the last communication you had with him. You sent him a message, a few days after he left when you’d had some sense knocked into you, apologizing. That’s all you could’ve given him then, an apology. Not an acceptable explanation, not a promise, not a solution or a way out; just an apology, in hopes that it would be enough.

You sent him a “Happy birthday, I hope you enjoy today!” greeting coupled with a photo of a cupcake with a candle you’d bought just for him on that first week of September. He replied but a “Thank you.” Nothing more.

Seokjin and Jimin reached out to you too, in the days following Jungkook’s departure. They’re letting him deal with it in whatever way works for him, they said. The priority is making sure he’s at his best for the shows, for the fans. You understood this, of course. The stage is where he’s at his happiest. You’re glad he’ll always have that. 

The guys will be resting at least a week after they get back before preparing for the final 3 days of the tour in Seoul. You don’t have long before then. 

The day after Jungkook left, you had that epiphany moment with Hyejin where she told you that perhaps you’d just done whatever you wanted because you wanted everything and nothing at the same time but couldn’t commit to either. You thought you had everything figured out without realizing that in fact, you didn’t. You had 2 months to figure your shit out, and you did.

It was that one afternoon when you absentmindedly picked up banana milk at the supermarket when you intended to just get chocolate milk at the dairy section. It baffled you when you opened your eco bag to see the yellow box, as if the universe was playing a trick on you. You stared at it like it had grown eyes or something, until you realized the other items in your refrigerator, your pantry, your counter that was all for him. 

His favorite cereals on the top shelf, his Nutella and banana beside your peanut butter, his favorite biscuits in the cabinet, the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Even his favorite toothpaste is in your bathroom. 

And you smiled. You smiled at how silly you seemed. It’s not just that you couldn’t get the thought of him off you, it’s that you didn’t want to. You’d willingly let him be a part of your life, of your everyday. 

You miss him so much, more than you thought you ever could. All you want to do is talk to him even if you’re hurt and angry and upset. You just want him, even if things are confusing. You just want him even if you don’t know what he’s feeling after everything. 

You want it to work, no matter what it takes. You won’t walk away from this if it doesn’t work out the way you normally do. You’ll stay and try until it does, hoping to all that is good that he feels the same way.

#

As the end of September rolls in, the feelings of fear, anxiety, and excitement start to engulf you. They’ll be back soon, and Jimin had said he’ll message once they arrive. You’d given each other time; the two months felt like two years. That should be enough. 

You’re lounging at your terrace, Sunday night in full swing for those with interesting and put-together lives unlike you. And then your phone beeps, signaling a message.

JM: Hi, Y/N. We’re home!

##

part 2 drabble <<>> part 4

series masterlist

[antiherocorner]

Huh... Alright, I'm doing... I think I'm doing it...

This is my very first fanfic ever... I'm still learning... This is a part 1 thing... I'm currently in the middle of a university exam period, so I couldn't finish the whole story yet, but I will as soon as I can, but I don't want to wait anymore... My English is okay-ish... It's not my native language, so there maybe some grammatical mistakes, I hope it's still readable... I tried my best... Just bear with me, I'll try to learn and improve... I'm very nervous...

Facts about the story: there is no age mentioning, Reader is around 25-26, I made Daniel younger in my head, 34-36 (single, no wife, no kids, let's respect the real Brühl family), Reader is female, I am Hungarian as well (possible Hungarian language in the future), I'm studying Russian (possible Russian language in the future), and I just started learning German, I used translater (sorry if I messed it up but, I really tried, please tell me if it's horrible), and one more thing... I have never met Daniel, nor I went to Berlin (yet, I really want to, and planning)... All of this are imagination, dreaming, and a little searching...

Warnings: none?... i think?... Apart from the horrible language uses and horrible jokes... Maybe swearing.

(Bad) Summary: a Hungarian girl goes to Berlin with a Russian friend of hers, as tourists. They always wanted to visit the city (not because Reader has a crush on the one and only Daniel Brühl, and wants to go to his tapas bar...of course). When the Reader goes back alone to the bar, Daniel is there too... The big meeting, adventures, fun, love, shitty romcom vibes ahead... (i hope the story is better than the summary...)

And now, after this awkward rambling, I present to you:

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

With Love from Berlin

Part 1

You couldn’t believe it. Finally, after months of preparation, you and your best friend were finally here, in the heart of Germany, Berlin. It was very different from what you were used to. Coming from a small city from Hungary, this was way bigger than your imagination. All kinds of people from different cultures merged into one. Museums, cafes, bars, restaurants, you didn’t even know where to begin. You took a deep breath in your hotel room. Your friend insisted on getting different rooms, in case she or you find someone to have a good time, if you know what I mean. Well, rather your friend, than you. You wanted to come here after many years, and you were finally here, so you want to experience as much of this city as you possibly could, you’re not gonna waste your time on a random (or more, glancing at your friend) man. 

You arrived at the hotel around 1.00pm, so you decided to go get some lunch somewhere close. You were a little bit tired of the long hours on the train. Just around a corner from where you were staying there was a tapas bar. Bar Raval. Your friend wasn’t really into movies that much, or actors in particular, but you knew that place, although you have never been there. You didn’t think about yourself as a “fangirl”, but you really admired the work of Daniel Brühl. You knew there was little to no chance that you could get even a tiny glance of him, but in over all: you would be happy just to say that you were in his bar. Your friend liked Spanish cuisine, so it didn’t take much to convince her to eat there. 

A Hungarian and a Russian woman walked into a Spanish restaurant in Germany, Berlin. Sounded comical. The place looked very friendly and funky. There were some people, not really a crowd. You decided to sit in the corner, with your back to the wall, so you can observe your surroundings. Your friend sits down opposite you. A waiter comes up to you:

- Willkommen! Was möchten Sie gerne? - he asked, looking between the two of you.

- Oh, sorry, we don’t really speak German. - you said with quite a thick Hungarian accent, because you got nervous due the potential language barrier.

- I see, It’s okay. We usually have all kinds of tourist here, so you’re good. What can I get for you two? - he asked with a welcoming smile.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to eat, you weren’t familiar with Spanish food at all, so you just trusted your friend to order something. She ordered something with pasta, and another thing with pasta. You had no idea what she just said. And some juice. She smiled at the waiter who scribbled down your order, and of he went. You looked around while you were waiting.

- It’s nice isn’t it?

- Yeah, it is. Quite bohemian. I would have guessed you would want to go to a traditional German restaurant. Why are we here? - smiled your friend knowingly.

- Well… You know…

- Is this the place of your man?

- What?! Shut up… - blushing - I just like his movies, that’s all… Anyway, I just liked the pictures of this place…

- ...and him…

- ...AND I wanted to check it out myself, ok?

- Ok-Ok...

You smiled at each other. You were best friends for years now, you could communicate without much of words. The waiter arrived with your plates. The food was good. In fact, more than good. In general, you prefer other cuisines, but you really liked this Spanish place. In Berlin. Odd, in the best way. After the lunch you went back to the hotel. Your friend wanted to go to a small club in the evening, so you decided to just chill throughout the afternoon. 

The traveling took the better of you, as you didn’t just not feel fresh after your nap, but you actually felt like shit. Your friend on the other hand really wanted to get going. So you assured her and yourself that it’s fine if you didn’t go to a club. She was a strong woman, and the club which she picked was just a couple of blocks away, so she decided, after she made sure that it is truly okay, to leave you behind in your room. You have never been a party-animal anyway, and you really just wanted to plan for tomorrow. There were so many things you wanted to watch in the city. After a few hours of planning and searching, you eventually fall asleep on the couch.

In the morning, luckily, you felt much better, more of yourself than in the previous afternoon. You took a shower, get dressed (purple converse, dark skinny jeans, blue tank-top and a blue/black checked shirt...nothing can go wrong dressing like this, you thought), grabbed your camo, ex-military little gym bag, locked your room’s door, and went to knock on your friend’s door. It took a few minutes, some groans, and other small noises, when she finally flung the door open. The sight was hideous.

- The hell happened to you? - you really tried not to laugh.

- Laugh, as you like… I had a good time. Drank more vodka that I could handle though…

- Are you alone or…?

- I am… Calm down, I didn’t get lied… Although I tried… But I didn’t!!! - she said quickly after she saw the frown on your face. - But I feel very shitty… My hangover is killing me, I didn’t give out anything yet… But I might throw up at any minute now…

- How can I help you? Stay with you? Bring you something from that little shop we saw yesterday?

- Some water would be nice… But I don’t want you to see me like this… And I will be fine, i’m just gonna rest today… You can go on on your sightseeing trip.

- Are you sure? I’m gladly staying with you…

- No, no! You wanted to come so badly, I don’t want to take a day away from you. I will be alright.

- You promise?

- I do. Please, just go. - she smiled at you.

- Alright. I’ll go grab you some water, and… I don’t know, go for a walk or something. Get breakfast.

- For the mentioning of food, your friend’s face went green and particularly jumped into her bathroom.

- I’m coming back in a minute or two! - you shouted after her, than closed her hotel room’s door.

You went down to get some water, some bread and some crackers which would be easy on her stomach, yet she still would be able to eat something throughout the day. You knocked on her door, which opened just slightly, an arm came out to take the bag from your hand, a small, weak “Спасибо” and just like that the door was closed again. You giggled to her door before you headed down to the street.

You honestly didn’t really want to explore many things without her, so you tried to keep your excitement low. You decided to go back to that bar where you ate your lunch yesterday. You liked it a lot, and it wasn’t a new place to discover, which meant that your friend wasn’t missing out on anything. You went to the bar. It was still early morning, not many people were there. A few old people, some of them are couples. The younger generation (yours) was probably still sleeping. Besides, the place was more like a lunch/dinner kind of place anyway. The waiter looked up and recognised you.

- Good morning! Alone this time?

- Good morning to you too! Yes, my friend had a wild party last night, and she is standing at the gates of Hell right now.

- That sounds bad. - he laughed.

- It is, she looked scary… - that made him chuckle.

- So what can i do for you today?

- I would like just a cappuccino, please.

- Alright, just sit down, I’m on it.

- Thank you!

You sat down at the exact place where you did yesterday, next to the window, with your back to the wall. You put down your bag, and looked around. With less people, the place looked cozier. You really did like it a lot. Eventually, your cappucino arrived. You thanked it, and tasted it. It was delicious. You were one of those people who liked to read next to a fresh coffee, and you always had a book around you. You took it out from your handy-dandy bag and started reading it, holding it a little up in your hands, leaned back on your chair. You were reading one of your favourite books (Pushkin - Anyegin), while sipping a good morning cappuccino, in a nice place. You just relaxed to the small sounds of the bar and sounds of the city, which infiltrated through the door and windows.

- Eine interessante Wahl von Buch am Morgen. Interessanter als eine Zeitung, das ist sicher...

No. Just...no. You were hallucinating. You felt like everything was frozen around you. From out of 2.8 millions of people (roughly), you would recognize this voice. His voice. You physically could not look up.

- Omm.. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you just said… - you said with the weakest voice and in the thickest accent ever, in your whole damn life. You hoped that if you make this man say another thing you fall back to reality.

- Oh, my bad - he giggled - I just said that it is an interesting choice of read in the morning, it sure is more interesting than a newspaper.

Shit, this was the reality. 

You dared to look up, and your eyes met the most chocolaty eyes ever on this whole planet, but at least in the whole of Berlin. The owner of those eyes was leaning on the chair opposite you.

- Hello. I’m the owner of this Bar, I’m Daniel. - he offered his hand to you.

- Hi, I kno...i mean I’m (Y/N), I’m the costumer…? - you finished with a questioning voice and all you wanted was for the ground to open, swallow you, and with that wipe you out of this universe. You shook his hand, without looking at him directly. His hands were warm and secure. After he released you, you closed your eyes, already feeling the burning sensation in your face. You heard a deep chuckle.

- Yeah, I guessed that. You’re not from Germany and you aren't British either, aren’t you?

You opened your (Y/E/C) eyes only to meet his curious ones.

- No, I’m not. I’m just a tourist here, I’m from Hungary.

- Oh, I’ve been there. It’s a lovely country. Would you mind if I sit down? - gesturing to the empty chair opposite from you.

- Yes… I mean no… - you took a deep breath - If you would like to you can sit with me. - This is just going great...

You earned another deep chuckle from the man in front of you, while he sat down.

- So… What are you doing here alone, in Berlin?

- I’m not alone.

- Oh… Anniversary? - for a moment you thought you saw something in his eyes. Sadness?

- Not that either. I don’t have anyone to celebrate such things. I came here with my friend, but she got wasted last night, and probably at the moment she is agonizing in her bathroom above the toilet.

- Hm… that’s not nice. - curiosity was coming back to his face.

The two of you stayed in silence. It wasn’t really uncomfortable, you were just terribly shy, and couldn’t stop blushing. You even tried to hide some of your face by leaning on one of your palms, and sipping your coffee.

This is aweful. Daniel f*ing Brühl is sitting opposite me, and I can’t even look at him. He must be thinking I’m one of those fangirls who just can’t keep it together before their idols. Which is true, but he shouldn’t have to know that…

But he wasn’t thinking that. Quite the opposite actually. You were so out of place in his bar, he had to approach you. There was something in you which made him intrigued. While you were trying to hide, which he found a little bit cute and entertaining, he tried to study you as well. There was something in you. He felt like he wanted to know your story.

- So what’s the plan for today?

...........

[lambourngb]

For the first line meme: It's later than he thought when the knock on the door interrupts another night of staring at the computer screen.

the heart is a muscle - post season 2, mentions of forlex , getting back together malex fic for you dear @jule1122, and @haloud, and @christchex.

It's later than he thought when the knock on the door interrupted another night of staring at the computer screen.

Mr. Jones and his last words to Michael, before he was forced back into stasis, still haunted him. “You really think there was just one ship? We were in formation, kid. What you should ask yourself is, where did everyone else go? Did they just keep zippin’ on their way to the colony? Or did they stop and take a gander at this planet and what they did to the survivors?” 

The tiny bit of hope that this Max-lookalike psychopath didn’t represent the last of his species, had Michael diving back into his research behind the crash of 1947. The online conversations about Roswell had moved on to other topics since Michael had abandoned the message boards in the wake of Caulfield, but with some effort, he had found new threads detailing neighborhood folklore regarding newcomers with eerie talents, like the ability to grow food in droughts. Stories that peppered all over the world. Stories that might mean an alien colonist on Earth.

The thirst for knowledge about his planet and his people would never leave him, even if the actual urge to go had quieted down into just a soft whisper. Life was finally good in Roswell. After the mind games of Mr. Jones, Michael could admit now that he did have a family here, even if they weren’t related by blood. Sanders, Arturo, Mimi, Michelle Valenti had all stepped in at various times to offer a guiding hand to him, or just a quiet nod of reassurance that he was valued. Max and Isobel would always be his siblings, but now he could count Liz, Rosa, Kyle, and even awkwardly in their new friendship, Maria, as extended his family now.  

It didn’t escape Michael that not even in his thoughts could he attribute his feelings for Alex as brotherly. There was still a vacant place at the head of Michael’s overflowing table of family for a partner, a spouse. That somehow, the seat even as other people came and went, only seemed to fit Alex. 

Except they were still just friends.

Another knock, more impatient this time, rattled the Airstream’s door. Michael sat up, placing his ancient laptop on the counter and rolled off his bed to get to his feet. His life was had changed so much in the last couple of years that he had enough people in it, friends, who dropped by his trailer at all hours of the day, not just Isobel, that he couldn’t even guess the identity of the visitor. 

Backlit from the auto yard’s security lights, stood Alex Manes holding a cardboard drink holder from ‘Bean Me Up’.

“Alex,” Michael greeted, a smile already at his lips. He glanced at the coffee and back to Alex, “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow I take it?” This was part of the new normal for Michael, meeting Alex for coffee, three or four mornings a week. It was something that had grown out of a happy coincidence, Alex’s gym was near the Boys and Girls Club that Michael volunteered at, serving breakfast in the mornings and tutoring kids in math in the afternoon.

Same place at the same time, once, then twice, became a standard thing. Not a date. Just, taking advantage of the mutual collision to talk. And at first, it was awkward to share news with each other, like Alex’s dating experiences with Forrest or Michael’s attempts to recover his memories of his planet, but later things had softened into a routine. Order coffee, find a small table, and then spend the next hour playfully fending off Alex’s attempts to foist food on Michael’s side of the table while also stealing sips of his caramel lattes. 

Perhaps one day Alex would realize that Michael had only ordered the ridiculously sweet coffee drinks because he knew that was what Alex preferred to drink. It was still a damn toxic hold over from Jesse Manes that Alex still persisted in ordering black coffee with no sugar. Dating Forrest might have helped Alex be open with his sexuality, there were still lessons for Alex to learn in being gentle with himself, Michael observed. The act of indulging in pleasures, instead of engaging in deprivation, it was something he struggled with as well.

In the meantime, Michael could at least help Alex in this small way, letting him ‘steal’ his lattes.

“Alex?” Something about Michael had robbed Alex of all speech as he just stared up at Michael in response, still holding the drinks dumbly in his hands. “Are you okay? What’s wrong-”

The switch from teasing to urgent concern finally snapped Alex out of his apparent stupor. “Right, nothing, um, just- since when do you wear glasses?”

Michael’s hand went to his face automatically, realizing belatedly that he was still wearing his reading glasses. He started to pull them off, blushing in embarrassment, when Alex blurted out, “They look good! On you. The glasses. Um great even.” 

“Oh.” Now that. Michael did not know what to do with that. 

In the yellow-wash of light, Alex was clearly the same man from yesterday’s coffee visit physically. His soft mouth was there, but it came with his standard closed expression that he must have picked up abroad, wearing it now as Michael’s least favorite souvenir. His posture was the same too, forever changed from losing his leg, straight-backed and rigid but just then, he was someone Michael hadn’t seen in a long time. That awkward stuttering response was Alex Manes, the seventeen-year-old boy who had whipped off his visor nervously in the museum, the same boy who touched with soft gliding palms newly revealed skin before snatching his hands away at the first sign that it was unwelcome. 

Aware that it was his turn to stare at Alex, Michael forced himself to smile naturally, “I guess not even my alien physiology can beat back the glare of a computer screen. I forgot I had them on.”

“Did I interrupt something? I can go if you want,” Alex stopped, probably hearing the past echo between them but not in the benign way of before. “Or I can stay and help, even if it’s with surprise coffee?” This time he lifted the tray up between them, an offer or a barricade of politeness, Michael wasn’t sure.

“I’m looking for other survivors,” Michael admitted, before looking down to avoid Alex’s sharpened gaze of interest. “On the internet, obviously, since I don’t think I can trust that I could sense them with my mind.”

It was clear that Alex hadn’t forgotten any of the various tactics Jones had employed against them, but Michael in particular. A frequent repeated taunt was about how damaged their psychic abilities were for adults, to the point no one had sensed Caulfield, but that from his pod prison Jones could hear Nora calling for help nightly right until the end. The twisted knife of how Michael had grown up waiting for someone to save him. Alex pursed his lips to object, “Michael-”

“Jones was full of shit about a lot,” Michael assured him quickly, “but I think he was right about the ships, that it wasn’t just one that crashed. I’m just combing through stories, basically internet mythology, looking for clues about strangers who might have some sort of power. It’s a lot of ‘world’s biggest cucumber’ stories right now, but hey, come in, you’re the computer genius and I could use your help and your coffee.” He placed his hands on the coffee holder, carrying it for Alex and backed away from the steps to let Alex have as much room as possible to navigate the cumbersome metal steps into the Airstream.

The seating area of the Airstream had been folded away and stored in order to make room for the drying rack of his clothes from laundry day, leaving only his narrow bed for seating. Michael had half-a-minute’s pause in reconsideration. They could relocate outside to his fire pit with the cheap camp chairs, and sit pressed together elbow-to-elbow around the dim screen of the laptop between them. Or. Or they could squeeze together on his bed, a place where that sort of contact between them had always led to sex. What was the safer option for their friendship? 

His heart always strayed too far from the safety of his bones when it came to Alex. 

Ignoring his pounding pulse, he grabbed the coffee cup marked “Alex” and pulled it to his lips to drink and made a gesture to the bed. At least he had made the bed up earlier with clean linens, the spread was neatly tucked into the corners, almost military sharp. That made it feel slightly less risqué to him than inviting Alex into warm mussed sheets that reeked of Michael’s skin. That rain and bourbon scent that Alex had pointed out.

“Um, your coffee was the other one.” Alex picked up the abandoned cup marked with a ‘M’ and followed him over to the bed. 

“No, I’m drinking the coffee I always end up with. Your black tar juice.” 

Alex smiled slightly, caught out by the observation before gingerly sitting next to Michael as Michael scooted over toward the wall of the Airstream. “Yeah, I guess I do end up stealing yours.” He brought his left leg up easily on the mattress and then passed his coffee cup over to Michael’s waiting hands as he brought his prosthetic up with both hands for balance. The smile faded, as Alex reclaimed the ‘M’ cup to sip from deep in thought as he seemed to review the history of their morning encounters. “I’m sorry-”

“Alex, come on,” he teased leaning his shoulder against Alex’s. “You haven’t caught on by now? I only order that sugar monstrosity because I know you won’t let yourself do it. I don’t even like caramel that much.”

“What? Come on, that’s what you ordered that first time-”

“I ordered that for the director at the community center.” Michael placed his coffee on the window of the Airstream and concentrated on bringing the laptop back up to rest on his knees between them not daring to look at Alex. He would never be able to confess the next bit and see Alex’s too-expressive gaze at the same time. But. As he had reminded himself earlier, he needed to work on indulging in pleasures as well, not just holding on to the pylon weight of depriving himself, of never believing he was worthy of good things. And being Alex’s friend was that. A pleasure. A good thing. The best thing.

“Once I saw you though, I kinda forgot the errand I was on in the first place. Then, I might have gone back at the same time the next day. And the day after that. For reasons.” He glanced to the side, meeting Alex’s wide eyes briefly before turning back to the laptop. “So I guess it's my turn to apologize? I might have had an agenda.”

It was quiet between them, as Michael clicked through a few different forums. He wasn’t paying any attention to where his cursor landed, he just kept scrolling through window after window as a distraction because the urge to pull back, to crack a joke, to do anything but let Alex process in silence was hard to suppress but needed. That was a part of becoming friends, learning that Alex needed extra time to formulate a response, something that came from needing to shut all emotional responses off during a drone operation at work.

“Me too,” Alex replied softly. “About the agenda. I mean, I don’t even have a membership at that gym.”

Michael frowned, the words not making any sense to him.

“That first time was dumb luck, I mean, I stopped in that morning because I had stayed the night at Forrest’s for the first time and I found out he doesn’t drink coffee. Doesn’t even own a coffee maker.” Alex scoffed quietly, before leaning against Michael affectionately, “I should have known that it was doomed from the start, just on coffee alone but what really put the nail in the coffin was the fact I pretended to go to that gym for two months because I had a bag of clothes with me when you saw me.”

“That was your clothes from staying over with him,” Michael said slowly, almost to himself, before he frowned even deeper as the connections fell into place. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or not, but this was a new level of avoidance of an awkward subject for Alex.  It did make sense considering the timing, and maybe that was why he was confessing now to Michael because not that Michael allowed himself to show it, the early days of Alex’s relationship with the historian were difficult for him. He didn’t begrudge Alex being happy or being with someone else, but there was still an old, gnarled bit of Michael’s heart that pinched painfully at seeing the romance play out for everyone in Roswell to see. “Alex, I know you guys are dating, you didn’t have to lie about that and pretend you had gone to that gym.” 

“Were dating,” Alex patiently corrected. “Pay attention, Michael. I just said it was doomed from the start.”

“Because he didn’t drink coffee?”

“Because I was engaging in a deep cover operation that involved a fake gym membership, rescheduling my appointments to the afternoon and blocking out time in my mornings all, so I could see you.” The gears were still turning too slowly for Alex’s liking as he rolled his eyes at Michael and continued, “I ended it with Forrest about a month ago. Or well, he ended it with me because I was always too busy in the morning for breakfast and I never wanted to stay over at his.”

Michael blinked, then looked down at his laptop. The ancient fan and processor were making a soft whine of effort, much like his own brain at the moment. Alex was single. Alex has been single for over a month. A month where he didn’t mention it once during their get-togethers. 

Alex exhaled slowly, draining the latte before placing the cup out of range. “I’m really trying to use my words here, but you have exactly one minute to understand what I’m saying before I have to get creative-”

“Are you saying that you-”

“Yes-”

“Still want me?”

“I never stopped,” Alex reached for Michael’s hand, stilling the rapid clicking. “I came here because I wanted to be honest with you. It occurred to me that somewhere along the line, those meetups for coffee had basically become the most important part of my day. I … I was turning them into dates in my head. With you.” He licked his lips, his eyes drifting down to Michael’s mouth, causing Michael to bite his own lip in response. The anticipation between them thickened, until Alex groaned softly, his head briefly ducking toward Michael’s. “In the past, I’ve been guilty of thinking we were on the same page, and we weren’t, so I’m- Michael, I will still be your friend no matter what, but I want-”

This time, Michael didn’t let him finish and closed the scant distance between them on the bed to kiss Alex. The laptop fell to the side of their legs as Alex surged into it, pushing Michael down flat on the mattress in his eagerness. Michael opened for Alex, letting him have whatever he wanted and buried his fingers in the soft, black hair as they traded kisses.

Suddenly, a bubble of laughter burst from Michael’s chest, the lightness of the situation that felt almost too good to be real spread through his veins. “Oh my god, you brought me coffee to tell me that getting coffee together wasn’t just getting coffee for you, Alex-”

“Shut up!”

“You need a new job, nothing in intel, sweetheart-”

“I am, I did, that is.” Alex lifted his eyebrow at Michael’s too-still pause before he sweetly brushed the long stubborn curl out of Michael’s face, “Done with the Air Force as of next month.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that too.”

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solavellan (Modern AU)

Ch Rating: T

Ch WC: 2169

AO3

Chapter 7

Another day at the office. Editing, emails and the ever elusive caller that enables equal opportunities for playing phone tag. A game Solas never enjoys participating in. The morning slides by and Varric is at his desk, twirling his keys around his finger.

“Lunch?”

Solas glances up and sighs. “I’m trying to get a hold of Seeker Pentaghast. Sera said she had more info on an agent that might have a lead on Crystal Red.”

“That sounds like a lot of maybes and probablys and a whole lot of I don’t give a fuck. You’re allowed to take a break and get some lunch.”

“What if they call while I’m away?”

“They can leave a message. Now let’s get out of here before we don’t have any time at all for food.”

Solas shoves back his chair and follows Varric. “I did pack a lunch today,” he mentions.

“Save it for tomorrow then. I’m craving some street tacos and there’s a truck just up the road. I’ll buy so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“I am less concerned about finances and more concerned about getting food from a truck.”

“Ah, live a little Chuckles,” Varric says as he gives Solas a whack on the back.

“If living a little, as you say, means spending two days on the toilet. Perhaps I do not wish to live a little.”

“Well come with me and grab something else. I’m sure there’s something you’d find worthy of your tastes nearby.”

A half hour later and Solas is holding a taco that’s worth the regret he’ll experience from his future self. Some chipotle mayo dribbles down his chin and he swipes it away while pulling out his phone.

He checks his messages. One from Sarya and one from Veda. He taps on the one from Veda first.

Connor went home sick. Pick me up after school today?

He checks the time and swears. How did he not realize he took such a late lunch? She needs to be picked up right now. He dials her number as he stuffs his arms into his coat.

“Veda needs to be picked up,” he tells Varric as he shoves the remainder of his taco in his mouth.

“Got you covered,” Varric replies.

He mumbles a garbled, “thanks” then takes off down the street. Solas is just a block away from his car in the parking garage when she picks up.

“Hey papae!”

“Hello. I apologize. I just now saw your text. I will be late.”

“No worries. I can always watch the band practice until you get here.”

“I will be there soon.”

“Okie doke.”

He says he loves her and hangs up. Sprints the rest of the way down the street, half choking and wishing he’d at least drank some water but makes his way to his little car without incident. He hops inside. Starts it and zooms out of the garage. He’s speeding which has him checking his rear view mirror constantly. But of course, the city has a million stop lights and he hits every red one. He gets to her school later than he ever intended.

He parks, shoving his glasses all the way up his nose, and searches for Veda at the stadium. He spots her in the bleachers, chin resting in her hands and her copper braids coming undone in the breeze. He takes the stairs to meet her two at a time.

“I am so sorry to make you wait,” he says as he wraps her in his arms.

“Seriously, papae. It’s not a problem at all.”

“But what if it had rained? Or stormed like yesterday?”

“I would’ve just stayed inside. Besides, that didn’t happen.”

He sighs, berating himself a little internally. Then he walks with her back to the car. Slides in and clicks his seatbelt in place.

“What’s this?” Veda asks.

Solas glances over at her. She has Sarya’s camera in her hands. He hadn’t even noticed it there. He calmly says, “a camera.”

“Pssh, obviously. But I don’t remember you having a camera.”

“It’s a friend’s,” he says. “We went out for lunch and they must’ve left it.”

“Oh,” she says. “How was work today?” She’s still fiddling with the camera.

“It was work,” he says. Thankfully she easily dropped the subject. “Not much was accomplished.”

She gasps. “Your friend is so pretty. You’ve never mentioned her before. New coworker?”

“No. Just a new friend I met.”

“She looks familiar—and she’s a wonderful photographer. Maybe we should have her take some pictures of us. We haven’t updated our family photos since I was ten.”

“That’s a wonderful idea Veda. However, my friend is only visiting for a short while. I’m not sure there would be enough time to squeeze some family photos in.”

“Bummer. You look so happy around her.”

“I don’t always look happy?”

“You look a different kind of happy with her. It’s nice.”

He takes her words and holds them close to her chest. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

“Yeah,” she says, then she unloads a multitude of stories. How one of her friends got their tooth knocked out by a basketball in gym. How she accidentally used Elvhen in her Tevene class and didn’t notice until the whole class was just staring at her.

“Did you feel embarrassed?” he asks as they pull into the garage.

“A little. But I mostly found it funny. The way the other kids looked so confused.”

“Does anyone treat you differently when you speak Elvhen?”

She shrugs. “There’s a couple of kids who say stupid things but I don’t hang around them.”

“Veda, I’m happy to speak with the administration if your having trouble with other students—“

“While I appreciate that, I can handle a couple of kids who are jerks.”

“Very well but if you ever—“

“I know.” She slings her backpack in her back then kisses his cheek. “Can I go to Varric’s house? I want to see the cats and hang out with Cole for a bit.”

“Yes, so long as you check with—“

“Already did.” She steps out of the car. “Going to drop my stuff off inside then I’ll see you later.”

“Text me when you want to leave. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay. See you later, papae.”

Solas sighs. He’s glad she still talks to him and he still gets to see her but there’s also this tiny ache in his chest that misses her always being around the house. But he reminds himself that this is a good thing. It’s just new and he pulls out his phone to read his messages from Sarya.

Hey I’m going to try and stop by your work around 3:15 today.

I stopped by your work but you weren’t there. Saw Varric though! He introduced me to everyone and it was fun! I really like Sera. She’s hilarious! And Merrill was so sweet! Anyway, hopefully I’ll see you sometime soon. 😉

—

“I fold,” Sarya says, she takes a drag from her cigarillo. Then throws her cards face up on the table.

“Already?” Han asks. “What a shame.”

“Your mind must be elsewhere, Sarya. I’ve never known you to throw a game,” Vilanti says as she shows her cards.

Han takes the game and lets out a whoop as he gathers them all to shuffle.

“I still can’t believe Dallen just up and left us. Did he say anything to either of you? About his plans.”

Both of them shake their heads.

“It’s really odd.”

“I don’t know why you care. Easier to keep yourself from using him. Easier for him to be happy this way,” Han says.

“Ouch,” Vilanti grimaces, then gestures for all the cards to be handed over. She shuffles.

“I do agree with that actually. It’s just that most who move on from our happy little family tend to give us more of a notice. We didn’t get to give him a proper goodbye.”

“I don’t mean to sound callous here Sarya, but you were the only one who cared about the guy. Makes sense why he moved on.” Vilanti deals.

Sarya picks up her hand and stares straight through the cards. “That’s not true.”

“Basically,” Han argues. He draws a card.

“Sometimes you both are mean.”

“Not mean. Just honest,” Han says.

Vilanti draws. “On another note, I heard Makon made a new friend today.”

“What?” Sarya nearly drops her cards. “Our Makon? Makon—stoic, quiet, unsociable Makon?”

“Yep. Met her at the gas station. She was passing through on her way to Wycome and her motorcycle broke down. He fixed it up for her on the spot and they exchanged numbers I guess.”

“What the fuck?”

“Good for him,” Han says.

Sarya draws a card. “Yeah, seriously. I hope that works out.”

“Our next gig is in Wycome and he plans to see her then.”

“Was it love at first sight or something?” Sarya asks. She folds and picks her cigarillo back up. Her interest in cards declining by the second.

Vilanti shrugs and plays her cards, taking the game. “By the way he keeps talking about her, I’d say yes.”

“What’s her name,” Han asks, gathering all the cards into a pile.

“Athi. Athi Lavellan.”

“Another Lavellan huh?”

“Guess so. Maybe she’s related to you two,” Vilanti says.

“Doubt it. Or if she is, it’s very distant,” Han says.

In the distance they hear yelling and smashing bottles. They all exchange looks.

“Wonder who the hell set Deshanna off—“

“Let’s go see if we can smooth things over,” Han says with a sigh.

“You two can go. I’ll probably make things worse. I don’t think he likes me much.”

“That’s because you push his buttons. Definitely better for you to stay here,” Han tells her.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Then she waves at them as they slip out the door and finishes off her cigarillo.

—

It’s dark and quiet and Sarya gazes longingly out the window at a small patch of stars. The only patch not hidden by the clouds. She sighs and startles at the sound of knocking. Straightening herself out, she rubs the redness from her elbows and opens the door.

“Solas,” she says it like she’s expecting him but she’s truly surprised. She steps out with him, shutting the door behind her.

“You forgot your camera,” he tells her, holding it out in his hands.

She takes it from him, hanging it around her neck. “Thank you. I should really start keeping better track of my things or you’re going to start thinking I’m trying to bait you or something.”

“I would bite every time,” he says, his hands clasped behind his back. There’s a certain sparkle in his eye and she can’t read him. But she knows she wants to kiss him. So without another thought, she stretches up on her toes and takes him by surprise. He is frigid and she panics, certain she has misstepped. After all, friends don’t kiss like that.

“I’m sorry,” she says, a little out of breath. “I don’t know what…”

Her words are caught on the edge of his lips as he captures her mouth again. His kiss is unreserved but not what she’d call passionate. Like the kiss of a long time lover. A kiss of promise. Of commitment. Her mind screams at her to let go while simultaneously wishing and longing for more. His leg is pressed into her inner thigh and despite the chill of the air, she’s certain she is on fire. Her nails are in his shoulder, the camera even hurts just a little as it presses into her chest, and she doesn’t mean to let out a moan but it’s too late for regrets as he pushes her against the side of her trailer. One hand above her and the other in her hair. With each breath she steals between kisses, she studies his face. Memorizes it and stores it for always. Freckles for days and the tiniest scar above his brow. The only sign of his age lies in the lines of crows feet near the edges of his eyes and she tells herself to ask if he has a skincare routine. He certainly seems the type.

She studies his closed eyelids, there’s two freckles on the right and a singular small one on the left and she notices that there’s even some red in his brows and wonders if they’d have red headed babies.

She gasps then. Pulls away. Why in the hell is she thinking of babies?

“Perhaps I should…”

“Kiss me again,” she says to him. She won’t let one ridiculous thought ruin the moment. She knows that she’s falling for him. Too fast, too soon but she’s holding on for another day.

When they break apart she doesn’t want him to go. But it’s too much to ask him to stay. So she waves goodbye then clicks her camera, saving the image of him walking away.

[himitsukki]

𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙞 // 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

warning: unedited <333 plith ignore if u see any plot holes, this has been sitting on my drafts for a couple of weeks </3

wc: 2,453

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

“hitoka-chan! someone’s looking for you.“

surprised at the news of someone looking for their shy younger manager, the team collectively move their heads to look at the gym’s sliding doors and see a female student taking off her shoes just outside of it. one of her hands rests against the doorframe bent slightly at the elbows to stabilise her body as the other picks up her shoes by the back of it.

you step into the gym with only socks on, moving quickly to bow at the team members and approach the new manager. 

in the middle of the duo’s spiking practice, hinata and kageyama both stop and turn at the sound of your voice. the familiar sound of their usual bickers and running, jumping and whatnot go mute, and slowly, the normally loud and slightly deafening volume of karasuno high school’s second gymnasium goes quiet.

“are you guys okay?“ daichi asks as he approaches the first year duo. ”why’d you two stop?“ the captain didn’t get an answer from them; instead, they continued to stare at the guest by the front portion of the gym.

“is this...“ hinata murmurs, blinking every couple of seconds, his face is unmoving and stock-still. “...my chance?“

what? chance? daichi wonders. what chance is there for—

before his mind finishes the thought, hinata dashes towards the guest, and kageyama follows suit right after, sharing the same braincell thought with his partner. they both bow deeply and introduce themselves loudly before you.

“i’m hinata shouyou!“

“kageyama tobio!“

“please tutor us!“

ahh, must be an honor student. the team, who are all now just standing still, looks over to see what the commotion is about; they can’t hear the conversation from the other side of the gym, but they see you wave your hands in a rapid  dismissive manner, most likely overwhelmed with the sudden appearance (and, quite frankly, the sheer aura) of these two. 

“i’m tutoring a few students at the moment so i can’t right now, i’m sorry.“ hinata’s and kageyama’s shoulders droop dramatically, their disappointment clear to anybody with how the air around them seemingly became cold and depressing. “but... i’m free during breaks, so feel free to visit! oh, and i can give you copies of my reviewers for the upcoming exam!”

the two first years bowed deeper and thanked you profusely, sending you to another wave of overwhelmingness. the rest of the team, still in the same spots as they were before, only look at the scene with mixed reactions, staring in silence as they watch you try to make hinata and kageyama lift up their heads. 

“i think i’ve heard of her,” tanaka suddenly speaks up. the team turns to look at him. ”someone was talking about this really kind and angel-like first year, gives away reviewers, tutors other people, helps out with others’ homeworks, stuff like that. no one mentioned that she’s really pretty, though.”

“ryu!“ nishinoya shouts suddenly. “we can only focus on kiyoko-san!“

“but they’re different!“ tanaka argues. “kiyoko-san is cool and beautiful! obviously, we’ll follow her forever!”

daichi steps up to forcibly make hinata and kageyama stand up straight, apologizing for their actions as their captain. 

“it’s fine,“ you laugh slightly, bowing your head and thanking him for his hard work. “i’m hitoka-chan’s classmate! i’m here to return something to her, actually.“

“[name]-san!“ yamaguchi greets you as he jogs towards you, a smile on his face and his hand already up in the air in the form of a wave. he comes closer, and you jump up to reach his hand to high five it before he tries to heighten it further up where you can’t reach it anymore.

“i touched it!”

“i felt nothing, though~“

“yama-kun, that’s a lie!“

t.. they know each other? once again, the team is in a state of shock and silence as they see another usually shy teammate act differently. it’s rare to see yamaguchi being the initiator in teasing someone (as he’s always with tsukishima), much less being so... vocal and energetic and expressive.

“that makes it my third win this week!“

“sure thing, [name]-san~“

“say,“ asahi mumurs onto the rest of the team who never left their places. “is she... y’know... maybe... yamaguc—“

“oi,“ tanaka interrupts the small group of gossipers as he clamps a hand down sugawara’s shoulder, shaking it back and forth while keeping his eyes on the scene up front. “even tsukishima knows her, damn it!“

immediately, everyone looks back to see the most unlikely member of the team taking to someone else without glare on his face, not even a hint of irritation. in fact, whatever he says has you and yamaguchi giggling, while hinata and kageyama puff up with flames of petty anger.

well, daichi thinks to himself as he overhears tsukishima mock the other firstyear duo for begging you to tutor them in front of everyone else. guess we learn something new everyday.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

you return a week later to the male volleyball club’s gym with a paper bag on one hand and a large plastic bag on the other.

“she told me to give this to you,“ the team overhears your conversation as you approach the tall blonde. “it’s strawberry shortcake, of course.“ 

damn, tsukishima has girls giving him gifts already? they collectively curse at him inside. lucky bastard...!

“ah— i’d like to give these for everyone!“ with an obvious perk of their ears, everyone gathers around you as you open the large, white plastic bag: it’s filled with various snacks and drinks, most likely bought from a nearby convenience store outside the school, which meant you walked out of the school premises, bought everything in this bag, then walked back to the campus just to give these for everyone.

an angel... she’s literally an angel! 

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!“ hinata, kageyama, nishinoya and tanaka shout in happiness, grabbing their favorite snacks and drinks (yoghurt for kageyama and melonpan for tanaka, of couse) with twinkles in their eyes and a dust of pink on their cheeks. 

“you didn’t have to buy these for us,“ daichi steps up and accepts the bag with a small bow. 

“it’s fine, captain! thank you for working hard!“ 

daichi announces a break for everyone, telling them to grab a snack or a drink of their choice before passing the bag to the next person. in a matter of seconds, everyone’s seated on the floor, enjoying the snacks or drinks you bought for them. 

tsukishima, the only other person still standing besides yachi and kiyoko, converses with you just a few feet away from the group, but they’re all busy eating or drinking. the two female managers, though, listen in with a knowing look and the smallest smirk on their lips. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

you return, one again, a week later. but instead of dropping by while they were in the middle of training, you opened the doors and greeted everyone with the dark sky of the night behind you.  

“ah [lastname]-san! what are you doing so late?“ sugawara steps in as the vice captain, daichi being away to talk with their coach and club advisor about the upcoming training camp in tokyo. 

“i’m waiting for—“

“we’re holding a study session later at my house,“ tsukishima speaks up right behind the grey haired third year, walking up to you after to say something before returning back to the court. 

e..eh? did i hear that correctly? it’s almost past 7pm though...

“[lastname]-san!“ hinata and kageyama approach you with a slight jog, passing their frozen vice captain by the side. “thanks for the notes you gave us yesterday, it really helped make me understand the topic better!“

“thank you for tutoring us yesterday, even though it was a break time and you were probably busy and had other people needing your help and—“

“i told you, i’m happy to help, kageyama-kun!“

ah, right. she’s just an angel doing her angel duties, sugawara sighs, his mind now clear and grounded. there’s no way someone like tsukishima would be in a relationship with an angel like her...

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

...right?

the team, currently on their break, discusses about the possible reasons why you’ve been visiting them weekly for the past two months. you’ve never spoken up about it specifically, and there’s nothing really obvious that the team can focus on to hypothesize about the question at hand. 

ennoshita, having observed the times you’ve visited them and how you interact with the team, explained his insights on the situation. 

first, none of the second or third years have spoken up about having a significant other, nor has any of them heard or knew you before you first visited them, so clearly, they’re out of the picture,

second, your first visit was because you had to return something to yachi, but only yamaguchi and tsukishima had talked to you freely as a friend would. 

third, you once gave something to tsukishima, most probably a gift from one of her friends who liked him, and gave her gift through you. which means...

“i had a feeling yamaguchi was really close to her,“ asahi’s eyes light up in understanding. “it’s rare to see him be so talkative and cheerful.“

“no, but the air around them doesn’t seem like it,“ tanaka contributes to the discussion. “[name]-chan has this really light and air aura around her, you can really feel how angelic she is! it seems like there’s just a playful, friendly aura when she’s with yamaguchi.“

“that’s... a really detailed, creepy description, baldy,“ kinoshita strikes an arrow into tanaka’s body.

“first name basis? without asking her? invasion of privacy,“ asahi shivers.

“no wonder kiyoko-san keeps ignoring you.” narita finishes the blow.

“i did not— [name]-chan gave me permission!“ (”yeah, after scaring her into accepting it.” “stop being so brave for nothing, oi!”)

“it still seems off if tsukishima’s the reason,“ nishinoya pouts. ”our angel [name]-chan wouldn’t settle for a guy like tsukishima!” 

“i agree!“

“yeah, she’s too kind for that!”

with collective nods and hums of agreement, the team returns to their training, the summer training camps they had in tokyo and saitama still fresh in their minds despite a few weeks having passed by since. summer had just ended, and the second term for the current academic year has barely started, so they haven’t seen you since the last time you visit them before the month long break.

night approaches, and the day ends for the karasuno male volleyball club  without your prescence. eager to go home, they quickly changed and walked to sakanoshita market for their usual pork buns.

“a.. [name]-chan?!”

with a turn of your head, you greet the team with a smile and a small bow. “i figured you’d come here after training, so i went and bought you guys some pork buns before the get sold out.”

with a dramatic cry, hinata, tanaka and nishinoya fall to their knees and clasped their hands together as they thanked you profusely. after telling them that you had the worker keep the buns steamer to keep them warm, they immediately went to the counter; ukai, with impeccable timing, just entered from the back and immediately scolded them for being loud.

amidst the chaos, however, one person steps in and swiftly starts pulling you towards the exit.

“let’s go,“ tsukishima mumbles, his large hands easily caging your wrist in his grasp. “before the idiots notice—“

“tsukishima, what are you doing?!“

“how dare you steal our [name]-chan away from us!“

“give me a break,“ you hear him complain under his breath with a sigh. you giggle in response but try to hide your hands from the group, remembering that tsukishima had wanted to keep your relationship lowkey as much as possible. especially from the volleyball idiots, you remember him emphasizing. 

“sorry, but we have a project to discuss! yama-kun, let’s go!“ with a last wave goodbye, the three of you escape the team and disappear from their sights. 

as the team walks home while enjoying their warm pork buns, tanaka stops to a halt as he realizes something. “isn’t [name]-chan classmates with yachi and not those two...?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

“were you able to study?“

“yeah, thanks for the jacket! library’s freezing, as always.“

the team eyes the two of you from the other side of the gym, suspicious and doubtful of their thoughts due to tanaka’s insightful realization last time. it doesn’t really seem like they’re in a relationship, right? they ask each other through knowing glints of eye contact. there’s no way they’re—

“oh, i heard from this guy that you’ll have the spring high tournament soon!“

“tsukishima got demoted to ‘this guy’, pfft.“

“pfft, ‘this guy’,“ hinata bursts out loud. “tsukishima doesn’t even get called by his name—“

yeah, there’s no way.

for the first time since you started visiting them three months ago, however, you stayed inside to watch the team train for the said competition with permission from daichi and the two adults beside door. 

it’s a change of pace from you and a change of scenery from the team: they’re not used to anyone who’s not a part of their club to watch them, nor did they ever expect that it’d be you, of all people.

“[name]-chan,“ tanaka jogs up to you when their practice officially ended and the time to clean and tidy up the gym has started. “are you waiting for tsukishima and yamaguchi again? to talk about your, uhm, project?“

“no, i’m just waiting for kei.“

“k-kei?“

“yes?“ tanaka turns around to see tsukishima standing behind him, his hands on his hips and bored look on his face, but if you look closely, you’ll notice a hint of mischief in his golden eyes and the slightest smirk on his lips. “do you need something, tanaka-san?“

“you’re kei? i thought your name was hotaru!“

“nope, it’s read as kei.“ 

“i thought you were over having people guess your name for you!“

“i’m too tired to put up with people asking how to read it.“

tanaka, in the middle of your bickering, can feel his brain explode and his heart shatter slightly. i can’t believe it. fuck you, tuskishima. nishinoya, noticing his best friend’s frozen form in between you and tsukishima, jogs up to tanaka with slight concern.

“it’s true.” it’s the only think he can say before numbly looking at the two of you still bickering. 

“maybe i’ll call you hotaru instead of kei then—“ (”k-kei? who?”)

“fine, i’ll stop.“ (”him?!”)

“good. you’re no longer a middle schooler, loser.“

“with your height, you’re the middle schooler here.“

fuck you, tsukishima.

“rude!“

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

m.list