#like the way he almost passes out again in the last gif

[goldfades]

LATE-NIGHT CALLS ─── JOE BURROW

request: "I feel like Joe would always insist on calling you after every game even the late ones. Even if it’s just a sleepy, half-coherent conversation he refuses to go to bed without hearing your voice"

Joe's post-game ritual has always been the same: shake hands, hit the showers, face the press, and head home. But since the two of you started dating, he added a new step—one he never skips. No matter the hour, no matter how late the game runs or how exhausted he is from the rush of adrenaline and the strain of the field, he calls. Even if it’s the kind of late that makes your voice thick with sleep and your words slur together, he’ll still dial your number, waiting for the soft click of your sleepy “Hello?” on the other end.

You used to worry about his exhaustion, insisting he could wait until morning, but Joe’s stubbornness won out. It’s his way of winding down, he says, the easiest way to let the adrenaline taper off—to hear you, half-awake and warm under your blankets, murmuring about your day or teasing him for that one pass he wishes he’d thrown differently.

Tonight, the call comes later than usual, your phone buzzing on the nightstand as you squint at the clock—well past midnight. You know the routine by now, though. His name glows on the screen, and you don’t hesitate to answer, even if you’re barely awake yourself. Because somehow, even in those moments of barely-there conversation, there’s something grounding, something steady in the sound of his voice—low and sleepy and comfortable.

The phone buzzes again, and you let out a small sigh, rolling over in the sheets that are tangled around your legs. It’s late—way too late for anyone but him. You fumble for the phone, knocking your book off the nightstand in the process, and finally manage to answer on the last ring.

“Hey,” you say, voice thick with sleep, barely more than a mumble. Your eyes are still closed, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice before he even speaks.

“Hey,” he says, sounding tired but happy. There’s a warmth in his voice that makes you want to sink deeper into the blankets, your body relaxing even as you struggle to stay awake. You hear a faint rustling on his end of the line, the sound of him settling into whatever hotel bed or quiet corner he’s managed to find for this call.

“How’d it go?” you ask, even though you watched the whole game with half your attention, laptop open on your lap as you listened to the announcers shout his name. You already know he won. You can tell just by the way he’s breathing—steady and content, like the weight of the world isn’t pressing on his shoulders anymore.

“We got the win,” he says, and you can practically picture the satisfied grin tugging at his lips. “Defense pulled through. Felt good. Tired, though.” There’s a pause, just long enough for you to hear the creak of the bed as he stretches out, and you imagine him there, hair still damp from the shower, pillow propped against the headboard, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

“You sound tired,” you say, letting your own eyes drift shut again, his voice washing over you like a lullaby. He always sounds different after a game—softer, looser, the careful edges he keeps in place during the day falling away in the quiet of the night.

“Yeah,” he admits, a low chuckle humming in his throat. “Long night. But I’m good. Needed to call you first.” He says it like a fact, like calling you is as essential as breathing, and it makes something warm settle in your chest, even as you struggle to fight off sleep.

You know what he looks like right now—can see him so clearly it’s almost like you’re there. His face is flushed from the game, the last traces of exertion still lingering in his expression, and he’s got that soft, worn-out smile you only see when he’s alone with you. He’s probably half-reclined on some too-firm hotel bed, still wearing sweats and the hoodie he threw on over his jersey. You can picture the way his hand would brush over his face, rubbing at tired eyes, his fingers trailing down to the scruff along his jaw. He’s handsome in a way that doesn’t need effort, like he forgets sometimes that anyone’s looking.

“What’d you eat?” you ask, knowing he probably hasn’t had a proper meal yet. There’s a muffled sound, and you can almost see him shrug.

“Grabbed a sandwich at the stadium,” he says. “You know, the usual. But I’m not really hungry.” His voice is softer now, like he’s already sinking into the comfort of the call, the post-game rush fading away. There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything, just the quiet hum of the line connecting you, stretching across the miles.

His breathing evens out, and you know he’s lying back now, probably letting his eyes drift shut the way you are, letting the night pull him under. This is the quietest part of the day, the only time where everything seems to slow down, where it’s just you and him, your voices mingling in the spaces between words.

“Did you see the game?” he asks suddenly, and there’s a hint of teasing there, like he already knows the answer. He’s always known when you’re watching—can sense it in some unspoken way, even when you’re not at the stadium, cheering him on in person. You hum, the sound halfway between agreement and a sleepy sigh.

“Of course I did,” you say. “Saw that touchdown, too. You looked good out there.”

He chuckles, the sound low and deep, a bit self-conscious but pleased. “You think so?” he asks, his tone playful but with that slight, genuine curiosity you’ve come to love—like he still isn’t sure how you see him, even after all this time.

“Always,” you reply, and it’s true. Even when he’s a mess, jersey streaked with mud, hair wild from the helmet, he’s yours. There’s something honest about him on the field, something raw that you can’t help but admire. He doesn’t play with swagger—he plays with determination, with a kind of quiet, relentless grit that makes your chest tighten with pride.

“Wish you were here,” he murmurs, and there’s a softness to the words, a longing that cuts through the distance between you. You can hear the weight of it, the way he doesn’t mean for it to sound so heavy, but it does anyway.

“Me too,” you admit, turning onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You know he’s in some hotel room halfway across the country, the curtains drawn against the city lights, the room probably too cold for comfort.

And you’re here, in your own bed, miles apart but tethered by this line, by his voice, by the quiet spaces between breaths that are filled with the things neither of you say out loud.

It’s moments like this that make the distance feel bearable, moments where the miles don’t matter because it’s just you and him, lingering in the quiet of the night, holding on to the sound of each other’s voice like a promise.

“Get some sleep, Joey,” you say softly, knowing he won’t listen, that he’ll keep talking until he’s sure you’re drifting off, that he won’t hang up until he’s heard you yawn, heard the way your voice gets softer and softer until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

“Not yet,” he says, voice a bit firmer now, a smile tugging at the edges. “Just a few more minutes.”

You don’t argue, just let him fill the silence with the sound of his breath, the occasional murmur about a play or a moment you’d already forgotten, listening to the way his voice dips and slows, lulling you back to the edge of sleep. It’s the sound of home, you think, this quiet, late-night ritual that belongs only to the two of you—a secret shared in the dark, a comfort that’s become as essential as the game itself.

He keeps talking, his voice a low, steady hum, and you let yourself drift, knowing he’ll be there, knowing he won’t let you go until you’ve slipped back into the warmth of your dreams, his voice still echoing in the back of your mind long after you’ve hung up.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[lizzieolseniskinda]

LOGAN HOWLETT - furrgiveness

x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: a furry animal gets your plans cancelled.

WORD COUNT: ?

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: english is not my first language and i absolutely hate this

it was a friday night at the mansion, and it was unnervingly quiet for a school. logan leaned against his doorframe, and stared at the clock, waiting for you but you never came. the two of you had planned to grab a drink at his favorite bar - nothing fancy, but it was at least something. something you both enjoyed.

except, you once again, cancelled. no reason or explanation, just a short, “sorry, can’t make it tonight.” and with that you were gone.

this was the third time that week. heck, the seventh time in two weeks that you'd bailed and logan started to notice a pattern. you weren't just ditching him, jean, storm, even scott had mentioned your sudden disappearances. but logan took it a little more personally. you didn't have to spend every waking minute with him, but the lack of explanation? that ate him from the inside out. he wasn't even sure why he kept making plans for the both of you.

now, instead of staying at the mansion like a love sick fool, waiting for another canceled plan. logan grabbed his jacket and headed out. the bar in the next upcoming town had become his escape for nights like this - when things didn't make sense, and whiskey could at least dull a smart part of his irritation.

saturday morning passed, and logan still hadn't returned.

you hadn't meant for things to happen like this, guilt had been gnawing at you for weeks, but it come to a point where it was almost unbearable. you knew logan was frustrated, just like your friends. he never did say much, but the way hs expression tightened with each cancellation told you enough.

you didn't want to cancel - not on logan, or on girl's day with jean or storm, and certainly not on scott - who always made you watch scary movies with him. scott started giving you side eyes and stern look during your training together. there was something you couldn't tell them, not yet anyway.

besides, it wasn’t even that bad.

and logan… well, he hadn't come home last night. when you canceled on him for the millionth time. not that it was unusual for him to disappear every now and then to blow off steam. but something about this time felt different. it wasn't just frustration on his part. you could see it - the hurt beneath his facade that he put up.

you decided to put the facts straight.

by saturday afternoon, you decided to make up your mind and find him. you knew where he'd be. the bar wasn't far from the mansion, a ten minute drive and 30 minutes if you walked. it was a place logan went when he needed space.

walking into the bar, you spotted him immediately, he was hunched over the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. he didn't seem as tense as the night before, but there was still a slight shadow of frustration hanging over him.

you walked up to him quietly, sliding onto the stool next to him, he reeked of liquor and cigarettes. "logan?"

he didn't look at you right away, just took another sip from his glass. on the bar was a cigar that was halfway done. "what're you doin' here?" his voice low, gruff.

you fiddled with your fingers. "i came to talk, i thought i'd owe you an explanation."

logan finally turned to look at you, his eyes scanning your face. "yeah, you do. been bailin' on everyone, 'specially me. kinda makes a guy wonder what the hell's goin' on."

"yeah.." you replied softly, biting the inside of your cheek. "i'm sorry logan. i didn't mean to keep canceling like that. i just.. i didn't know how to explain it to you."

logan raised his eyebrow, waiting to hear your explanation.

you sighed, feeling the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on you. "there's a reason i've been avoiding plans. not that i don’t want to hang out with you - or jean or scott or anyone.”

“then what the hell is goin’ on?” logan asked, his voice laced with confusion.

you swallowed, “i’ve been taking care of something.”

logan frowned. his brows knitting together. “takin’ care of what? don’t tell me you’re dealin’-“

“no! oh my gosh, no!” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “it’s a kitten,” you admitted. “i found her outside the mansion a few weeks ago. she was sick and alone, and i couldn’t just leave her out there.”

logan blinked, i mean it was better than what he thought at first. “a kitten?”

you nodded. “yeah, she’s been needing a lot of attention- feeding, medicine, litter box you know. that’s why i’ve been cancelling everything. i didn’t mean to blow you off, logan, i just had to take care of her.”

logan stared at you, his expression softened just a bit. "why didn't you tell anyone? why keep it a secret?"

you sighed, "because animals aren't allowed in the mansion, logan. you know how strict xavier is about that. the furniture, the old wood - they don't want anything getting ruined. and i don't want anyone to get in trouble because of me."

logan let out a breath, setting his glass down with a soft thud on the bar. "so you've been sneaking around, just to take care a kitten?"

you nodded, "yeah. i thought if i could just keep it a secret it’d be okay. but… i didn’t think about how it would look for you. i didn’t mean for it to come off like i was avoiding you.”

logan was quiet for a long moment, his eyes still on you. then, after what felt like an eternity, he shook his head, a small, dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you’re an idiot, y’know that?”

you blinked, surprised. “what?”

logan let out a low chuckle, the tension finally breaking. “you think i give a damn about some furniture or old wood? if you’ve got somethin’ goin’ on, you tell me. i can handle it- i can handle charles. you hidin’ stuff — that’s what pisses me off.”

you felt the relief wash over you, your shoulders finally relaxing. “i’m sorry, logan. i really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

logan grunted, taking another sip of his drink. “yeah, well. you did. but i get it now.”

you nodded, giving him a small, apologetic smile. “i’ll make it up to you. no more secrets, i swear.”

logan’s smirk widened slightly. “damn right, no more secrets.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting. logan’s frustration had faded, replaced by the familiar ease you usually shared.

“so,” he said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. “what’re you gonna do with the kitten?”

you smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “i don’t know yet. i’ll figure something out. maybe i should find her a home. but… for now, i’ll keep her out of trouble. away from the furniture.”

logan chuckled again, shaking his head. “you’re somethin’ else, kid.”

as the two of you sat in the bar, the tension and frustration finally fading. no more secrets, no more cancellations.

just you, logan, and maybe a kitten (or two).

“also, i’m pretty sure charles already knows. being a mindreader and all.”

[octuscle]

Model Job

Chester didn't know much about the modeling job he was hired for. He had been told to come in a blue suit. A neat hairstyle was required. The studio was a sober room in a functional office building in an industrial area. Nothing glamorous, but that wasn't what he was after. He was after money. Dirty money. He had a bunch of creditors breathing down his neck, and if he didn't want to be evicted from his apartment, which was way too expensive for him, he had to get this job.

The guys waiting in the casting room largely fit the current stereotype: bearded, tattooed, manly. Their hair was either super short or their long manes were tied back in topknots. But a few of the men looked just like Chester: well-groomed hair, clean-shaven, no visible tattoos. But in contrast to Chester, these men were usually rather petite, almost feminine. Chester was well-groomed, but clearly a real man. He prayed that this was the type of man they were looking for. Because then his competition would be very manageable. If they were looking for a guy with a mane and a full beard, however, he had no chance.

The waiting time was endless. The men spoke little to each other. Again and again, someone was called into the casting room, and mostly a disappointed or angry man came out. Chester was just happy that he had a charging cable for his cell phone with him. And that there was Wi-Fi. This way he could pass the time and did not have to rely on the goodwill of others to recharge his battery. After what felt like an eternity, someone called out, “Chester Cavendish?” It was unnecessary to call his name. Chester was the last to wait. But it was good to hear his name. His name was part of his capital. Not that he had anything to do with the Cavendish family, the Dukes of Devonshire. If he had their money, he wouldn't have to model. But the name sounded good. Respectable. Impressive. Hopefully it would help.

“Mr. Cavendish, if you would please stand in the spotlight over there.” Chester did as he was told. He had only been able to catch a glimpse of the panel that had to decide his fate. Now he looked into the spotlight and couldn't even guess what was happening behind it. ”Move naturally, Mr. Cavendish. As if you were waiting for your girlfriend in front of the hairdresser.” Chester took a few steps, turned around, paused, always careful to show the spotlight his best side.

“I don't know,” someone murmured. ‘He looks too much like old money to me. Too well-groomed, too upper class.’ ‘The problem is that we don't have anyone else.’ ”If he was a bit more relaxed. A bit more peppy.”

“Okay, that's better. Brown shoes, five o'clock shadow...” ”I think so too, much better for our target group!”

Chester began to feel more comfortable. Apparently, his type was well received by the client. His type matched his name. Black sheep from a good family. Good background, but slightly rebellious appearance. “He looks a bit conformed.” ‘Yes, the hairstyle is not bad, but he could show a bit more skin.’ ”You said it, sex sells”

Chester hadn't been sure whether it would be too intrusive to wear a sleeveless shirt... But it didn't seem to be a problem. He posed a bit more provocatively. And the muttering from the other side of the spotlight was obviously approving!

“I don't know about you, but it's too 90s for me. Too metrosexual.” ‘I agree.’ ‘And he could do with a bit more muscle too.’ ”Mr. Cavendish, how many times a week do you train?”

Chester wondered what difference it made how long it took him to get his muscles in shape. He was proud of his muscles. It was damn hard work, after all.

“Four or five times a week. But call me Chester. Mr. Cavendish was my father!”

“Thank you, Chester. And it's impressive what you've achieved in the gym!”

Chester listened, but only understood fragments. “…a little bit...”, “…too well-behaved...”, “…bad boy...”. It was difficult for him to continue playing the waiting game.

“Chester, do you think your normal job and modeling go together? Or is that a problem for you?”

“No problem! I still work a bit in my dad's construction company, dudes! He'll understand if I have to go on camera.”

Whispering again... And then, “Yes, he could indeed look more like a construction worker.”

Chet was slowly beginning to lose interest. He wasn't a model, he was a handyman... But he also wanted to be an influencer. That's probably why he had to do this kind of shit.

“Sorry, Chester, I forgot. How often do you go to the gym?” “Name is Chet. Gym is like for wimps. I hav me fuckin' workout six days a week at the construction site. N' three times a week i go boxin'.”

“I think we have the perfect candidate.” “I agree!” “But somehow he's not quite up to date yet, is he?” “Yeah, a few tattoos maybe.” “What do you think of blond hair?” ”Deal!”

Chet was the epitome of the C-Class celebrity. We knew him from a few modeling jobs, we knew him as a fitness influencer, we knew him from trash reality soaps like Love Island. But just a little bit. He wasn't famous. But he made a lot of money. And for an airhead like him, that was quite a lot!

[alicewrotethis]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮﹒

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! tsukishima helps out the new neighbor who moved into the apartment next to him, only he didnt know what would come of it  ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip k. tsukishima x chubby!fem!reader  ﹒ ◠ note!!  playlist i listened to while making this ! i do plan on making a part two soon !! ౨  wc!! 4.4k part two !! >>

Waking up Tsukishima stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars placed above his bed, watching as they faded with the oncoming sun peeking through the blinds. He dreaded mornings, he hated the way his mouth felt dry, how hot he felt under the sheets, and most of all, waking up meant he'd have to deal with a new day of idiots doing things he hated.

Tsukishima hated a lot of things, he hated his old rowdy neighbor, he hated overly cheery people, the feeling of cold coffee in the morning, how polyester felt against his skin, and he especially hated when his neighbors tried to get to know him.

Putting his headphones on he stepped out into the hallway, only to be greeted by the sight of you trying to lift a box into your new apartment.

You decided to save money youd only ask the movers to move your furniture and not your boxes, you were deeply regretting that decision right now. You only had three more boxes to go but the soreness was already catching up to you from the other ten.

The sight was enough to annoy Tsukishima, why didn't you just ask for help instead of trying to do everything yourself, movers are a thing. Did you not have friends that could help you do this? He tried his best to ignore you while locking his door but a part of him felt bad for you, that you couldn't even complete a simple task.

With a sigh, he made his way over and took the box from your hands which startled you.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Where do I put it," He cut you off flatly before he could change his mind about helping you.

You were thrown off by his tone, its not like you asked him to help you so why was he so angry?

"In the living room is fine, thank you, sorry," You weren't sure whether you should be apologizing or thanking so you settled on doing both, which just earned another sigh from Tsukishima.

You were surprised by how easily he lifted the rest of the boxes, despite how skinny he looked he was really strong, or maybe you were just really weak, but to save your ego you decided he was just strong.

"Thank you again for helping," You looked up at him as he sat the last box down on the floor. You noticed this guy sighed a lot, it made you feel like you were somehow wasting his time.

Looking down at his watch he realized how much time had passed and he mumbled something under his breath before leaving your apartment.

He didn't even acknowledge your gratitude. The entire encounter had you stunned, was he really going to be your next-door neighbor?

With a content sigh, you plopped down on your couch and instantly relaxed, you had finally finished unpacking every box and arranging your furniture the way you liked it, and it only took you six hours. Despite how tired your body was you wanted to do something to show your grumpy neighbor how thankful you were, and you were gonna do it in the only way you knew how to show thanks.

Baking. But first, you would have to go grocery shopping.

Heading toward the elevator at the end of the hall the door opened to reveal your tall, grumpy neighbor, still wearing the same frown he left in. Only it seemed to deepen at the sight of you.

You smiled at him as he exited the elevator. Tsukishima prayed you wouldn't try to talk to him, but of course, like every other time, his prayer wasn't heard.

"Hey, neighbor! I never got your name," You beamed up at him, looking at him now he was freakishly tall, his hair was disheveled, and he looked sweaty, it was almost enough to intimidate you.

"If you know it, you'll say it," He flatly said, walking past you to his apartment door.

You didn't know what you did to possibly receive this kind of treatment, it wasn't even your first day living here and this guy acted like he hated you.

"What did I do to you?" You asked, slightly irritated by his ego.

He simply ignored your question and entered his apartment, promptly closing the door.

It's not like Tsukishima intended to be rude to you, well, he partially did. But there was truth to his words. If you knew his name then you'd assume he was your friend and you'd try and talk to him, and he just didn't want that. His apartment was a place where he didn't have to talk to anyone and he intended to keep it that way. He couldn't understand why you didn't get the hint.

You weren't gonna let his rude attitude stop you from baking him something, it only made you more motivated to bring a smile to his frowny face.

You weren't sure what you'd bake him so you decided to go with your own favorite dish, strawberry shortcake.

Walking down the aisles you stared at everything in your cart, you had gotten some regular food items you'd need for the next few week's meals, as well as some snacks and drinks you enjoyed. Now all that's left is to get the ingredients for the desert you'd be making your neighbor.

Looking up at the signs above the aisles you searched for where the flower would be. Once you found it you walked over, only to see the one and only standing there in front of the vanilla bottles staring intently at them. You wondered what he could be doing there.

"Hey, you," You greeted, resting your arms on the cart handle as you walked over.

Tsukishima didn't need to look to see who the voice belonged to, why were you everywhere he went?

You noticed he looked much cleaner now, and his blond hair was much more neat.

"What're you doing? Did the vanilla bottles look at you the wrong way?" You joked, stopping right in front of him. Your eyes shifted between him and the bottles, trying to figure out what he was doing.

He didn't answer you, in hopes you'd get the hint this time but that never worked out in the past. Your joke only further annoyed him.

You came to the only reasonable explanation hed be standing here staring for so long at the bottles, he didn't know the difference.

"What flavor were you looking for?" You asked, trying to sound as nonjudgemental as you could, not wanting to annoy him any further.

"What?" He asked confused.

"Well, Bourbon, or Madagascar, vanilla has a much stronger taste," You explained, pointing to the bottle you were speaking about. "While Mexican vanilla has more of a spice and smokey tone to its flavoring, and Tahitian vanilla is the opposite, its fruity and floral, almost cherry-like." You spoke softly as he nodded along.

"It's all based on your preference and what you're going to be cooking." You finished off, looking up at him.

He only nodded as he reached for the Bourbon vanilla bottle and placed it in his shopping basket.

"Thanks," He muttered out. He wondered how you knew so much about vanilla flavors, they all tasted the same to him.

"Youre welcome, can I get your name now?"

He paused for a moment before turning to you. "No,"

You let out a breath of defeat as you grabbed your own bottle, but you knew it's fine, you'd get his name one way or another, you're sure of it.

Placing your shopping bags on your counter you sighed, thankful they had an elevator or else you would've passed out walking the heavy bags up five flights of stairs.

Putting away the groceries you left out the required ingredients needed to make the strawberry shortcake.

Placing the strawberries in a bowl you layered them with sugar and gave it a light mix, only wanting to coat the strawberries in the sugar. Once that was done you began on the small cake and placed it into the oven.

An hour passed and if was finally done, it was the most beautiful thing you'd laid eyes on, it almost brought a tear to your eye. And to think the frowny, grumpy, rude, annoyed neighbor would have the chance to eat it brought a smile to your face.

Placing the treat into a small box you picked up at the store you carefully made your way to your neighbor's door and gave it a knock.

You stood there for a few moments before you heard muffled voices and the unlock of a door.

Tsukishima peeked his head out and saw you before fully opening the door.

He didn't say anything and instead raised his eyebrow, waiting for you to say what you needed.

"Sorry if I disturbed you, but I baked you a shortcake! I wasn't sure what you liked so I made you something I liked, as a thanks," You explained as well as telling him your name and handing over the box which he took and peeked into. If you were looking close enough you could see a glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

"Hm," He let out.

"Do you not-"

"Tsukishima Kei," He cut you off, something he seemed to enjoy doing.

You were stunned, "Tsukishima?" You tested the way it rolled off your tongue.

"Dont wear it out, is that all?"

"So does this mean we are friends?" You asked cheerfully, earning a sigh from him.

"No, now goodbye," He said before closing the door.

It wasn't a smile, but you learned his name so you counted that as a win.

Tsukishima walked into his kitchen and grabbed a fork, immediately ready to try his favorite dessert.

"Who was that?" Tsukishimas girlfriend, Etsuko, asked from the living room.

"My neighbor brought me some strawberry shortcake," He said, hoping she wouldn't make an argument over this like she always did, it was something he disliked, and didn't see the point in meaningless arguments but it was a habit she had recently picked up on, the latest one being about his volleyball teams manager.

"Oh? The new girl?" Her voice was laced with jealousy, something he could easily pick up on with how often she spoke in a tone like that.

"Yeah, I helped her move her boxes," He explained while biting into the shortcake, his tastebuds almost exploding with how flavorful it was, and in the privacy of his own kitchen, he cracked a small smile at your dish.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked, now moving to the kitchen to get a better view of Tsukishima, his smile quickly fading.

"Why does it matter?" He asked, annoyance visible on his face and voice.

She shrugged, "Just doesn't seem like something you'd do,"

He let out a sigh while picking up another bite with his fork, "Yeah well I did it Etsuko,"

"Jeez, what's your problem?"

It was as if she knew just how to push Tsukishimas buttons like she was destined to be here and get on his nerves, and she wasn't always like this but lately, it was like her sole purpose was to interrogate and bother him.

Instead of giving in to her, Tsukishima decided to remain quiet and enjoy the shortcake, hoping she'd give up and go back to her original spot on the couch.

The entire night you couldn't wipe the smile off your face, despite what Tsukishima said, you considered him your friend.

Waking up the sunbeams shone across your face, welcoming you to another day filled with new possibilities, you loved mornings, it was like a second chance, any mistakes you made yesterday were, well, yesterday's news. You loved how the sun looked as it rose above the buildings, it was a beautiful sight to wake up to.

Looking at the clock it read six o'clock, you needed to be at work in an hour, it would be your first day back in a week do to moving and you were extremely excited to be back and baking, maybe you'd bring your new friend a sweet treat home.

Opening your door you were met with the sight of Tsukishima locking his door, he had a plain white shirt on and a pair of blue jeans while he carried a plain hoodie on his side, as well as his usual headphones around his neck.

"Tsukishima!" You cheerfully greeted him as you walked up to him, you couldn't hear it but you knew he sighed, he always did that to you, so much so you've gotten used to it.

"Why're you up so early," He asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question in his voice while you walked to the elevator together.

"Well, today I start work again at the bakery two blocks from here! I'm super excited about it, I've been missing work lately." You explained.

Tsukishima found your enthusiasm for things quite annoying, he couldn't understand how you could be so excited and cheerful this early in the morning.

"What do you have planned today, tsuki?" You beamed, pressing the floor button on the elevator.

Tsukishima would never admit it but he did like the way you said his nickname, it was different from how everyone else said it, and it was innocent in a way.

"College classes, and practice," He dully said, watching the doors close while he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Practice?"

"Volleyball practice,"

You made a sound of excitement and admiration, "Youre a volleyball player? Thats so cool!" You said, looking up at him.

"It's not that cool," He sneered.

"Well, it makes sense! Youre like crazy tall and strong,"

Your compliments were almost enough to bring a blush to his cheeks, and he was thankful the elevator doors opened before you could get any more innocent compliments in.

"You know it's gonna be cold today, right?" He asked, looking your outfit up and down.

"It is?" You asked worriedly, in your rush to get ready you completely forgot to check the weather, and you still had to walk to work in the cold.

"Couldn't even check the weather," He sighed, shoving his hoodie into your hands.

"Tsuki.." You nervously said.

"Dont thank me, just dont let it happen again," He sternly said.

"No, it's just," You paused, looking down embarrassed.

"What?" He asked, raising his brow at your form. It was unlike you to be shy and nervous.

You took a deep breath, "What if it doesn't fit," You meekly said.

That thought hadn't crossed Tsukishimas mind, mostly because he didn't care about that sort of thing.

"It will," He simply stated, motioning for you to put it on.

This was a side of Tsukishima you weren't used to, you had expected him to laugh at your embarrassment, or just ignore you, but it gave you enough will to pull the hoodie over your head and he was right, it did in fact fit. His scent invaded your being, and a small blush rose to your cheeks.

Tsukishima hoped you didn't see his own blush at the sight of you in his hoodie. He didn't know why he was being so nice to you right now, but hearing you say it wouldn't fit irked something inside of him.

"Thanks, Tsuki," You looked up at him with a soft smile.

"Whatever," He turned away from you and walked out of the entrance to the complex, placing his headphones on his ears and taking out his phone.

You smiled the entire way to the bakery, with a warm feeling in your stomach with every inhale of Tsukishimas scent.

You felt disappointment for the first time when you approached your work because entering meant you'd have to take off the hoodie since you didn't want to get it covered in batter and flour.

Walking to the back towards the employee lockers you greeted the familiar faces of your employees with a cheery smile, disappointment soon being washed over with glee as you carefully hanged the hoodie in your locker and tied your apron around your waist ready to begin the day.

You always loved this job since the moment you got it, it truly was a blessing to you, you get paid for doing things you love and you get to meet all different kinds of people.

You noticed a girl standing by the counter and rushed over.

"Hello!" You greeted her with a bright smile, excited to meet a new person, you hadn't seen her here before.

"So, youre Tsukishimas new neighbor?"

The question had caught you off guard and a confused look appeared on your face, "Yeah?" You replied though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

"Well, he's my boyfriend," She stated.

You raised your eyebrow at her, what kind of reaction was she trying to get out of you?

"Good for you?"

"You should hear the things he's been saying about you," She sneered.

You didn't like where this conversation was going, and it angered you that you could tell where it'd go.

You didn't like feeling angry, in fact, it was one of the few things you hated, because when you felt angry you also felt sad, and sadness usually led to slumps where you didn't feel like doing anything and where life feels meaningless.

"If you aren't gonna get anything then please leave," You tried to hang onto the last string of cheerfulness you had, the last string of patience with her. You didn't want to be angry at her since she was clearly someone special to Tsukishima and you'd hate to genuinely upset him.

"Just know he isn't who you may think he is," She said before turning and taking her leave.

You weren't sure what to make of the encounter, you didn't know if you should be mad or upset, and you knew Tsukishima could be rude but would he really talk bad about you behind your back? Is it even worth asking? Maybe you'd just take the hint and leave him alone like he always wanted you to, and looking back now you should've seen it sooner, all his one-worded replies and the way he addressed you with such coldness. You'd just give him what he wanted.

The day came and went and it was time for you to head back home, only this time Tsukishima's hoodie was clenched in your fist, and the emotions you'd been repressing all day bubbled back up like soda, you understood you hadn't known him for long but you considered him a friend and you thought he did the same in his own antisocial rude way.

You were so lost in thought you didn't even care how harsh the cold was nipping at your skin and you only realized when you entered the warm lobby of your apartment, that the warmth instantly engulfed you as you shuddered away the cold. You silently prayed that you wouldn't cross paths with Tsukishima, but your prayers were cut short when you heard a voice from behind you, and it didn't take much to guess who it was.

You were surprised that he was the one greeting you, but you wouldn't give in, this is what he wanted. As soon as you entered the elevator you started spamming the close door button but in two strides he was already in, damn him and those long legs.

Tsukishima instantly caught on to the attitude change towards himself. Usually, you'd be chatting his ear off, talking about everything and anything and he'd be there, listening to every word of it while acting like he wasn't. Like how two days ago while walking to the elevator you were talking about the nature documentaries you watched and how they always made you cry but you could never turn them off. But now you were quiet, and looking everywhere but him, he didn't like it one bit. In fact, he hated it.

"Did you burn a bread roll or something?" He sneered, trying to gauge any sort of reaction out of you, a smile, a laugh, a look, anything.

Well he did get a reaction, you shoved his hoodie into his chest and sped off to your door, slamming it shut before he could even get a word in.

He sighed and headed for his, disappointment spreading through his body when his eyes met his girlfriends.

Tsukishima softly closed the door and kicked off his shoes, his mind still on you and the way you completely ignored him earlier. He tried racking his brain on what he could've possibly done to upset you other than ignore you, be rude, give you the cold shoulder, be dry. But he thought you understood and didn't care about all that stuff, though he could admit maybe he took the whole act a bit too far at times. He started to feel like a jerk, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he should apologize to you. The only thing is he wasn't sure how to or where to start.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Tsukishima, and it had been five days since you last stood in the same elevator, he was partially okay with you not speaking to him but purposefully avoiding him? He decided today was the day he'd try and make things right with you. Even he couldn't believe his thoughts right now, never in a million years did he think he'd be going out of his way to try and get someone's forgiveness. But the days spent without you were quiet and dull, he no longer liked waking up, and he no longer liked the way the sun glared in his glasses, in fact, he found it once again absurd.

Tsukishima missed having you as a friend.

He missed your rambles, he missed being able to talk about his day in short sentences, and he missed you and the feelings you erupted in him.

And as soon as he awoke he found himself walking to your apartment, he wasn't sure what he was gonna say or how hed say it, or even how you replied but he knew he needed to do something if he was gonna keep you in his life.

He knocked twice, and after a few moments, you appeared, dressed in black pajama shorts that rode up a bit too high and a crop top. He could tell he had woken you up by the way you rubbed your eyes and how your hair was going in all directions. But even now, the sight of you made his heart rate increase.

You were stunned to see Tsukishima in your doorway, he looked like he hadnt had a good nights sleep.

"Yeah?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked outright. You were surprised he even noticed you were intentionally avoiding him.

"Isn't that what you want?" Your voice cracked, you were trying your hardest to remain standing strong in front of him, not wanting to reveal that you genuinely miss talking to him.

"No, it's not," He spoke softly, looking you in your eyes to scan your reactions, to see if you showed any signs of wanting him to leave.

"Well, that's not what your actions say,"

"I know, and I apologize for giving you the wrong impression"

You stayed silent for a while, taking in the moment and trying to find the words to say to him.

"Then why did your girlfriend come to my job and tell me you've been saying all kinds of stuff?" You felt tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you internally cursed yourself for letting your facade slip.

Tsukishima felt anger bubble inside of him, of course, Etsuko had something to do with this, his days could've been filled with you, but they weren't, and of course, it was her fault.

"Listen, Tsuki, I appreciate you apologizing but,"

"She is lying, i haven't said anything bad about you, and I couldn't even if I wanted to,"

You didn't understand what he meant by even if he wanted to, the whole situation was confusing to you, why would she lie about something like that? What could she possibly gain by saying that to you? All sorts of questions were floating around your head and Tsukishima seemed to notice that.

"I want us to be friends again," He said, letting a small smile onto his face as he watched your eyes brighten. He was glad, the sight of you on the brink of tears brought a sort of sadness to his core.

"Tsuki," You paused, "Did you just say what I think you just said?"

He let out his usual sigh, "I'm not gonna say it again,"

"Just one more time?" You beamed, "I'll never ask again," You stepped closer to him, looking up with a pleading look, how could he ever say no? Well, he could and he did.

"No,"

You let out a sound of defeat. You both stood there for a few silent moments, just staring at each other with small smiles. Tsukishima was glad to be back on good terms with you, he knew he'd enjoy the mornings again, and he'd enjoy seeing the sun peek through the blinds because that meant hed get to talk to you for another day, hed get to see and hear you talk about the most random things, you'd once again be the highlight of his day.

"Wanna do something?"

"Like what?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Show me that show you were talking about a week ago, Euphoria? If you aren't too busy,"

You let out a shriek of happiness and pulled him inside by his shirt and dragged him to your dimly lit living room.

You plopped down on the couch and motioned for him to do the same as you turned on the TV. You were happy he apologized despite it taking him a week to do so, but you were glad to have your friend back, you had missed your mostly one-sided conversations, but you knew he was listening to you despite his actions saying otherwise.

You had gotten ten minutes into the first episode and there was already an intimate scene, and even though you both were already silent, the silence seemed to thicken as you both refused to look anywhere but the screen, if you moved would it show that you were uncomfortable? You probably should've warned him about how many intimate scenes were in this show. The closeness of Tsukishima did nothing to calm the awkwardness.

You reached for the remote to try and skip ahead but your hand was stopped by his, and you quickly turned to look at him, a bright blush adorning your cheeks at the contact.

Tsukishima wasnt one to like things, in fact, he hated most things, but you were certainly not one of them.

"I can't stay away from you," He said softly.

Your heart was racing, you didn't know what he meant by that or what way he meant it.

"Then dont,"

navi. tags. rules. © 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ please don't copy, translate, or post any of my work without my permission !

part two >>