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mangora · 2 years ago

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Remake of my TD coffee shop orders post with ALL the characters bc I am bugging rn

GEN ONE:

Ezekiel: He drinks plain coffee, possibly with cream and sugar, just bc it’s how he grew up

Eva: If a protein shake is available, I mean obviously she’s taking that, but under regular coffee shop constraints I think she’d do a black coffee, MAYBE a coffee with milk on special occasions. I don’t think she cares about the taste she just wants the energy boost

Noah: I’m kinda conflicted. Bc I think he’d make fun of high-sugar and froofy drinks, but also I think he’d be too self aware to drink black coffee to look cool and he needs the adhd sugar serotonin boost. Maybe I’d go middle ground, have him drink a latte or a mocha. I think he tries to narrowly avoid coffee discourse but just narrowly

Justin: He loves stupid fancy high-detail drinks. He is the fucking joke about the guy who asks you to heat his milk to a certain degree Celsius. He drinks Virgin Irish coffee with nonfat gelato and splenda. Whipped cream towers and wafer straws. I fucking hate this guy

Katie: She likes PSLs and owns it. Go girlboss. And Frappuccinos, if it’s full of sugar she loves it.

Tyler: He doesn’t like coffee, tries to drink skinny lattes or hot espresso and hates them both. He also hates protein shakes. Medicine teas? So bad but he tries. You know what he likes? He likes fruit smoothies and juices. It’s his secret jam. He’s bisexual

Izzy: Redbull, she will not drink any normal liquid, it’s this or monster or like a cosmopolitan at 9am. You take her to a coffee shop? “Yeah can I get a cup of syrup?” They have a primal urge to just, destroy their body. She’s playing chicken with God. Also, hot dog water

Cody: He likes chocolate milk, I feel like this ones obvious, he would cry and shit his pants if he had to drink real coffee

Beth: Also not a big coffee girl, I think even a frappe would be much for her. She’s a juice drinker. Maybe a smoothie drinker? But I think she’d be happiest with like an orange or apple juice box

Sadie: Obviously a Frappuccino or fancy latte like Katie, twinsies, etc. but I do think she’d be insecure about ordering one without Katie

Courtney: Soy milk macchiato, or like an espresso or red eye with a dash of soy milk. Whatever, lots of coffee and a little soy milk so she can technically claim she’s not a neurotic coffee addict. She would just do crack if she was a little more deranged

Harold: He likes those fucking anime sodas those piss me off for no reason. But fr do I think he’d be a coffee snob and order like a “piccolo latte” at a Dutch Bros. Leshawna almost kills him for it. Duncan does kill him for it

Trent: Hot take: Trent’s a tea guy. He likes white or green, maybe with some nut or oat milk. I would say matcha but honestly i feel like it would be too heavy for him. He’s not a drink girlie he just likes water usually but if he sees a good tea shop, he’s like “ah what the hell”

Bridgette: She would be a refresher or iced fruit tea enjoyer. Especially like cistrusy drinks. Maybe, on like holidays, every other leap year, she would get oat milk or soy milk with like a half shot of espresso

Lindsay: Nonfat caramel macchiato, maybe blended with ice. She likes basic sweet coffee drinks and you know what? She deserves it

DJ: I think he’d be a big juice guy, especially like green juices. I could see him getting a latte or cappuccino with, say it with me everyone, plant milk, but idk. I don’t think he’s super picky

Geoff: Once again I don’t think he’s picky, but I do think he’d be a day drinker, like he’d order a Long Island iced tea in the morning with a fake ID or he’d pour vodka into a latte. I could also see him ordering a frappe or maybe even an egg coffee.

Leshawna: HOT TAKE: I think she’d really like an affogato. It’s creamy, it’s sweet, and she deserves a treat with a bit of a kick

Duncan: This will be a theme in here: he pretends to like black coffee but doesn’t. At least, it’s not his favorite. He’s actually more fond of sweet cold brews.

Heather: I know Duncan had his “double caramel macchiato” line but I personally think Heather would like French Vanilla coffee, AND she’s a bean snob. She needs a rich ass ristretto made from good beans, she can taste bean quality. Like honestly she owns a French press and probably a cezve too. She also likes Turkish coffee most.

Gwen: I do not care what base coffee she gets I do not care what flavor, I do not care what proportion she gets milk to coffee; but I know, with all my heart, she likes OAT MILK. And her coffee is ICED. She thinks the oat milk makes her special. She takes her Prozac with it. But she is not special, she’s just gay.

Owen: Owen likes many things but I do not think coffee is one of them. He likes starbucks vanilla frappuccinos.

GEN TWO:

Staci: She’s definitely a boba girl, but honestly i think she’d be fine with most teas. She likes them with milk and fruit because it makes them look special and makes her look cultured

Dakota: I still hold true to the idea that she’s a seasonal drink enjoyer, but also she loves anything iced coffee. Especially white mochas, sweet = good

B: I still think they’d like plain teas because they’re calming and not too sweet, but I don’t think they’d turn down a plain coffee. I just don’t think they’d get super hyped on it

Dawn: Definitely a matcha liker. Also only drinks plant based milks and creamers, if she uses any at all. I don’t think she’d turn down any other tea though, they might like floral or fruity ones. He and B have tea enjoyer solidarity

Sam: Of course he’d prefer G-Fuel and just general energy drinks over everything, but if he was at a proper drink shop I think he’d take his coffee with milk and sugar. It’s not a big deal if he can’t get them, caffeine’s the priority, but he’d prefer them

Brick: He tries to drink espresso to contend with Jo and his military bros, but I think he’d really like fruit smoothies or fruity teas (maybe one with orange peel or vanilla) if he was allowed to have them

Anne Maria: Caramel Macchiato, easily, she likes it extra and she likes it sweet. I however retract my statement about her liking frappuccinos, I think she’d call them a pussy drink

Mike: He likes a generic vanilla iced coffee because he’s, you know, Mike, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if he put a little shot of whiskey in his morning cup for a little audacity

Chester: Black tea with lemon. He’s a tea guy, said what I said. Bitter, sour, easy. Also he probably couldn’t afford milk and sugar as a kid

Svetlana: Honestly I don’t think she’s a real drink girlie either, considering how she likes to stay in shape and also I don’t think she’d like the taste of coffee/tea. Maybe she’d like juices? Like with strawberries and mangos and greens.

Vito: Ristretto buddy, this guy can take down the nastiest bitterest tasting coffee and not even blink. It does make him bounce off the walls tho

Manitoba: I think he’d like an espresso/doppio, maybe a flat white? He just downs it, doesn’t care about the taste much. He’s eaten worse probably he’s like “hey it’s not dirt! woop woop!” and drinks a whole pot and runs around and picks up a squirrel with his teeth and dies

Mal: Normally I’d say black because “ooo he so edgy” but honestly I think he’d like a brown sugar latte or a cup of chai. He likes the flavors, strong flavors. That or Monster because he’s insane

Jo: Black coffee, but not for any like status reasons. It just tastes good to her

Scott: He only drinks shitty instant coffee, usually without sweetener or cream bc he didn’t have them growing up. It’s always boiling hot. And he hates every other drink.

Zoey: She does like a good iced coffee but I think she much prefers milk teas (esp with boba). Also I think she likes the Starbucks pink drink and Mal bullies her for it

Lightning: He would like a protein shake if it’s available, not a fan of coffee or tea. Maybe he’d drink a juice or smoothie but it would have to be heavily vegetable and/or spice based.

Cameron: The taste of coffee would kill him, and he’s grown up scared of milks and sweet drinks and nuts bc his mom only let him drink water out of fear of him developing diabetes or something. I think maybe Zoey and Mike would slowly warm him up to something lighter like green tea.

GEN THREE:

Beardo: He likes lavender tea with lemon and honey, it soothes his voice

Leonard: I think he’d like herbal teas and fruit juices, they’re like potions

Amy: I don’t know, maybe a white chocolate mocha or frappe? But I do know she screams at the baristas!

Rodney: I hold true to the fact that he memorizes everyone’s orders, rehearses his own order, and will drink whatever to be included— BUT I think his preference is fruit smoothies. He’s just too afraid to order them.

Sammy: Frappucinos, fruit teas, juices, milk teas, anything cold and sweet basically. She doesn’t really like coffee though

Ella: Similar to Sammy, likes strawberry-flavored drinks especially. They make her feel like a princess.

Topher: Latte macchiato. On a technical level he’s a bean snob also and specifies the beans he wants every time he orders, but he can’t taste the difference and honestly likes the cream better than the coffee.

Dave: Makes fun of “basic girl” coffee orders. He gets black coffee and hates it. He truthfully doesn’t like any drinks. Maybe a seltzer water.

Scarlett: A plain tea enjoyer. Peppermint, ginger, black; not a fan of fruity ones though.

Max: Plain milk, and it’s fucking gross

Jasmine: She likes savory or bitter drinks, mostly black coffee with cream but no sugar. I think she’d also like chai.

Sugar: An anti-tea advocate. But she does like instant coffee with sugar, a similar situation to Scott. And maybe she’ll drink straight half-and-half.

Sky: Likes green juices and ginger tea, she needs that health boost but isn’t a fan of protein powder or black coffee.

Shawn: He likes black coffee, but is trying to cut back on it because it makes him neurotic. I don’t think he’d really like any other drinks much.

GEN 4:

Tammy: Same as Leonard, but I also think she’d like boba and even some of the fruity Monsters

Pete: He’s way too proud of drinking pure black coffee because he’s an old man

Gerry: He one-ups Pete by drinking pure vodka because he’s petty

Ellody: She likes kombucha and will tell you all the gut benefits

Mary: Green tea, 100%. She likes how calming it is

Laurie: Chai tea, she thinks it’s like spiritual or some bs, and gets mad when people question her tastes

Miles: Matcha, she says a lot of bs about “extracting the earthy notes”. Has it really together here

Tom: Iced coffee as hell. You know him, pretentious

Jen: Smoothies, so many smoothies, and they taste so strong

Taylor: Has the most detailed coffee order. She tells you the temp, the order to pour it in, the five different syrups she wants, what milks to mix together, and she doesn’t tip you when you make it.

Kelly: Wine. She says wine every time you ask her what she wants to drink. She thinks it’s funny. It’s not

Jay: Has to drink water because he’s allergic to everything else

Mickey: Drinks that gross thick water stuff bc Jay doesn’t want him to aspirate and die or something

Chet: Muscle Milk

Lorenzo: Also Muscle Milk

Rock: Monster, and it makes him nuts

Spud: Monster, and he feels totally normal, and just drinks it for the taste

Dwayne: Says he likes straight black coffee, actually drinks coffee with cream and sugar in a closed cup

Junior: He’s not allowed to drink coffee or tea he just gets apple juice (he pretends it’s beer)

Ennui: Drinks cranberry juice and says it’s blood

Crimson: Drinks cranberry juice also and, get this, says it’s blood

Stephanie: Won’t go to drink shops bc she’s certain she can make her own drinks better than the shops can (she can’t)

Ryan: Protein shake again, if you fuck up his order he won’t say anything he will deal with it himself and drink the whole thing to avoid hurting your feelings

Devin: Tries Red Bull to impress people and throws up; he really likes mint tea

Carrie: Tries to drink tea and coffee for the aesthetic but the only drink she really likes is lemonade

Kitty: She doesn’t even go for frappucinos it’s just milk shakes and Virgin strawberry daiquiris, and she deserves it

Emma: A cortado. Tries not to go overboard and doesn’t like the taste of coffee too much. But she’s definitely had days where shes shoots like ten espressos and disassociates

Josee: French-press ristretto, she takes one cup every morning to remind herself that god is dead and give herself that angry passion for ice dancing

Jacques: Tries to drink a different tea every morning to see if they can calm him down; they do not work

Brody: He tries a new drink every day and usually only likes the fruity ones. Has definitely gotten food poisoning this way. Did drink bath water once

Sanders: Normal iced coffee. She’s…normal. Kind of.

MacArthur: A smoothie with peanut butter in it. Loves her gains, loves her nut butters

HOSTS:

Chris: I mean we all know, hot chocolate and tomato juice. I do think in terms of personality though he is a latte-drinker and bean snob

Chef: He likes himself a nice cold fruit drink. A virgin piña colada maybe. Or that shitty unicorn frappucino. But he also still likes a good shitty espresso

Blaineley: Iced tea. Hot take I think she fears most coffee drinks, which is sad, but accurate.

Josh: Idk does he have a personality? Sparkling juice in a champagne flute (carries it in his pocket everywhere; he has big pockets)

Don: A warm mocha, but tries not to make a big deal out of it (he does not succeed)

Like and follow for more epic content this took me several hours

EDIT I FORGOT ALEJANDRO AND SIERRA HOLD ON

Sierra: Anything super sugary and super caffeinated. I know she loves the pink Monster. But at a coffee shop, probably a caramel macchiato or a mocha Frappuccino

Alejandro: Usually he drinks a really pretentious brand of espresso or ristretto, maybe a chai, but once in a while he has a cheat day and has a caramel or cinnamon latte

#alex’s td rambles #total drama #lost the plot towards the end but what can you do #long post #should have a ‘read more’ but it might not work so #sorry if it doesn’t!

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rurulyywrites · 2 years ago

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☁️Juice|Deuce Spade X GN!bartender!Reader|

Pairings: Deuce Spade X GN!bartender!Reader

Plot: j u i c e y e s. Deuce tries to make a good homemade beverage for his senior who recently found a bartending job in Twisted wonderland.

Type:fluff

•×•×•×•×

The inspo for this was very concerning. The inspo was about 3-4 drunk dudes who tried to make their own b00ze with random bs and accidentally added something poisonous which k!lled them back around 2017-18.

I heard this in the news I swear it wasn't me-

3rd person POV

"S..so.. because Y/n senpai got a sideline job as a bartender,you're going to try and make a drink for them with no experience whatsoever"

Ace explains as Deuce laid down a bunch of drinks he bought from Sam. "Precisely!... Ok when you put it that way,it sounds very concerning"

"Because it is..? Deuce just make some apple smoothie and go on with your day. If Y/n senpai dies because of whatever concoction you made--" "You're saying that as if I'm insane enough to put poison in the drink"

Deuce said as he rolled his eyes and Ace face palms. "No I'm saying you're stupid enough to probably make poison with-- WHAT THE FUCK-- IS THAT CAPRISUN?!"

Ace said as he starts looking through the paper bag. "Yeah. I also bought Yakult, monster energy drink, red bu--" "ARE YOU INSANE OR TRYING TO KILL SENPAI?!"

Ace shouts at Deuce "...none.."

"then you are absolutely stupid. You bought TWO different kinds of energy drinks, FIVE flavours of Caprisun, FOUR types of different yogurts and SEVEN FUCKING PROBIOTIC DRINKS?!"

Ace shouts again as Deuce was confused as to why that is a problem

"oh dear sevens.. YOU ARE STU--" "what are you shouting about?!"

Trey then enters the kitchen "Deuce is trying to poison Y/n senpai" Ace says calmly

"YOU WHAT?!"

Trey shouts at Deuce "none of these are poisonous.."

Deuce said as he took out a tall glass, and made cute circle shaped ice cubes to put on the glass "Are you gonna put all of that in one drink..?"

Trey asked as he saw all of the drinks on the table

"Well.. yes and not quite. I was also gonna add matcha, whipped cream and tapioca---"

"jail."

Ace and Trey said in sync while looking at Deuce with a serious face

"... I can't legally go to ja-"

"Deuce,listen. You clearly don't understand what me and Deuce are implying so let me explain"

Trey said as he removed his hat and sat down Deuce down on a chair as he briefly explains on why he shouldn't do this.

"So random bs mixed together is bad?" "Absolutely" Trey and Ace replied. "Well then how do I make a good drink that isn't bad?"

Deuce asked "You don't" Ace said "Magicame tutorials!" Trey suggested. "They'll be--"

"Deuciee??"

Suddenly,Y/n's voice echoed through the halls. "Here by now.."

Deuce continued his sentence as everyone felt a rush of adrenaline. "Ok ok ok-! Ace distract Y/n while I help Deuce get a lover" "Wait what--" "On it,senpai!"

Ace said as he rushed out of the kitchen. "What's one drink you know?!" Trey asked Deuce as he tried to think of one

"B-bloody Mary!"

"Fuck no that's alcohol"

"uhhh Gatorade--"

"absolutely not!"

"Protein shake!"

"That's something Jack would appreciate so obviously not"

Trey and Deuce just go back and forth on this topic.

"(fav homemade beverage)!"

"Fuck yes. Now we're talking! Who doesn't like (F/d)?!"

Trey said as they both got to work.

「With Y/n」

Ace rushed to Y/n as they were looking for Deuce "Acey! How ya been??" Y/n asked as they ruffled his hair

"G-good!" "That's great! You're looking--... I was gonna say awfully dashing but you just look awful."

Y/n said as Ace awkwardly chuckled "W-wanna play Blackjack? It's been quite a while,no?"

Ace said as he drags his senpai to it down on the lounge "Actu--" "I-I'll go get the cards,y-you stay right there!"

Ace said nervously as he left and room the deck from a different room and headed straight to the kitchen

"Psst!" Ace said as the two looked to his direction

"I'll play cards with Y/n. You two better hurry up" Ace said and immediately left.

"I'm back!!" Ace said as he sat down and started shuffling the cards and distributing them

"Ace,as much as I'd love to play with you. I need to see Deu--"

"w-who?? Deuce?? He- uh.. he's.. asleep! W-what do you mean??"

Ace said nervously again trying to keep Y/n sitting down "He is?"

"Yeah yeh yeah!! T-Trey senpai checked up on him and found him asleep after.. uh.. d-doing homework! L-let's just play cards and let Deuce sleep!"

Ace says as Y/n sighs and agrees to play with him

That was odd. I thought he wanted to hang out.. I guess he did want to be an honour student so I can't really blame him,I must be distracting him...

"WHERES THE ICE?!" "STOP SHOUTING OR ELSE Y/N WILL HEAR US!!" "IM PANIC SHOUTING"

Deuce shouts and immediately realized. "Oh.. yeah.." "the ice is in the fridge" Trey said as he nods.

Within 2 rounds of Blackjack, Trey and Deuce were finally done "We should taste test this--" "No need,senpai! I can't keep Y/n senpai waiting!"

Deuce said as he took the tray and started dashing towards Y/n in the lounge. "Young love. Really makes you wanna question people's sanity and if they're not overly obsessed to get their crush's validation"

Trey muttered as he watched from afar "That was so deep"

and right behind him,was Sheila. The Jack of all in Heartslabyul.

"MOTHER GLORY!!" "I wanna bet you guys accidentally put poison in that"

Sheila said again with a chuckle "Please no."

"If Y/n, dies. Just so you know I'll still steal their so Ka since my pairs are being stolen by Ursula".

"Y/N!!" Deuce shouts as he approached them in the Heartslabyul lounge.

Ace sees him and immediately backs up to the wall to not be involved in any disaster

"Oh? Deuce! I thought you were asleep" Y/n said as Deuce looked at Ace and he nods.

"Well I was. But I remembered you were coming and thankfully I made this drink for you before I fell asleep while doing homework. I had it chilled in the fridge so I hope you enjoy because you are the VIP today!"

Deuce said as he set the drink down infront of Y/n

"Interesting.. it looks presentable but the way you introduced the drink is a very rude move towards a VIP customer"

Y/n said as Deuce chuckled and sat down with Y/n as Ace left.

"Also,unless the VIP says so, bartenders cannot sit down with them due to the many many other customers they serve. The entertaining the VIP is mostly the customer's choice"

Y/n explains again as Deuce tried to hide his embarrassed blush

"Kidding. Besides this ain't no bar,and I love your company"

Y/n said as they made Deuce look at them by grabbing his chin with their index and thumb. "I'll try the drink,and maybe we can play cards?"

Y/n said as they looked at the drink and back to Deuce's eyes. "T..that'd.. be nice.. senpai" Deuce said as he blushed even more,making Y/n chuckle and taste the drink.

Deuce watched intensely,watching their facial expressions as they drink the beverage he made.

"Oh..! Wow.. uh.." Y/n said as they smack their lips "soo??? Was it good?!" Deuce asked eagerly "It surely is something... Well.. everything at once except f/d.. surely.."

Y/n said with a chuckle

"Was it,at least, a little good?"

"It definitely wasn't good. Oh no,surely. It's so bad I'm so suprised you can fuck up such a drink"

Y/n said with a laugh as Deuce pouts "I'm very sorry senpai! I'll do better!"

Deuce said as he lowered his head and his hands in his laps

"Don't need to, I'm more worried about whether you put salt in this" Y/n said as they raised his head to look at them.

"H.. huh?" Deuce asked as he took a sip and his face told it all.

"That's absolutely terrible.." Deuce muttered as he almost vomitted but held it in. "It tastes so bad.."

Deuce muttered again as Y/n laughed again at his face.

"Hey Trey, hundred Madol/Thaumarks that they'll end up together"

"Shei! Don't bet on people!"

"Aight bet"

"CATER!"

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

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Latibule

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

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

Words: 9790

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pt. i: an opening

[ pt. ii: four set ] ||

It’s a quiet coffee shop.

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

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

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

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

And…vines…or is it a tangy pine?

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

Odd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pity. He’d liked it.

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

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

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

Wait. Favorites?

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

No. You must be joking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come on…come on…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has she worked there?”

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

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

“Dunno.”

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

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

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

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

“Yer’ full of it!”

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

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

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

“Oooh, what’s she studyin’?”

“Not sure.”

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

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

It’s stupid; he’s stupid.

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

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

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

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

The ticket is good for a first row balcony seat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. You asked him something?

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

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

It’s a perfect segway.

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

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

Something’s off with him.

Wait, that worked.

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

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

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

It could be any number of things.

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

It’s just…

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

Oh. There you are.

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

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

They won.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, it’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that bad?”

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

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

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

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

He didn’t mean to come by the cafe.

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

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

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

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

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

But days pass, and he hasn’t returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is there to say?

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

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

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

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

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

In fact, he thinks he likes it.

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

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

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

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bikinginthetardis · 5 months ago

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Ok time to add more NSV!

Oh I missed a NSV for June 3rd- bought a lower calorie salad dressing- bolthouse brand

June 13th- Went to yoga even though I was on my period. Having a regular cycle is actually a big NSV

June 17th- Gym

June 18th- Prepped 3 days of lunches and snacks (I ended letting 1 of each go bad though). Also went on a walk with the dog, hubby, and kiddo.

June 19th- went to the gym with crissy and did her trainers work out, plus some ab workouts I wanted to try because my stomach is my trouble area.

June 20th- late for my gym class but did 15 min of ability and 30 minutes of yoga. The yoga teacher talked to me after the class to share some exercises I can do for my mobility goals.

June 22nd and 23rd- I was in Reno. On Saturday I got 14,745 steps in and on Sunday I got 21,254 steps in which is my personal record since I have had my android watch. At one point on Sunday, my watch vibrated to let me know I already walked 9 miles that day. Saturday before going to Reno I also worked about an hour cleaning my RV and felt accomplished.

June 25th- bought things to juice to follow my bodies lead- which felt dehydrated and craving fruits and vegetables after 3 days in Reno. Completely not in a punishment style but in a way to honor my body. I didn't do a "juice fast" but used it as an addition to my day.

June 26th- busted out my juicer and started juicing

June 27th- got two fillings done on my teeth

June 28th- My brother got married! I successfully ate very little during the day so I could enjoy dinner out with him (smoothie, a protein shake, a sugar-free monster, and then ate out Mexican food).

made food at night time to eat out of food that was about to go off.

June 30th- got a small sugar-free vanilla latte with almond milk at peets coffee when my MIL offered Peets. That was only 85 calories. NOT BAD! Especially since my hubby got a caramel macchiato that was 400 calories. I also went to the gym when I didn't want to as it was hot outside, but my friend crissy messaged me that she was at the gym. It was air-conditioned and not busy so worth it. It also gave me a clear mind to do my hw that was due last week (this teacher gives a week grace period and doesn't take points off- turned in on time for the extension). 1233 calories today, and that included the cereal I had at 1 am. Also went to Walmart and got some pantry items- light mayo, nutritional yeast, PB2, hemp seeds, low sodium soy sauce, and liquid aminos. At the dollar store, I got apple cider vinegar pills and biotin.

I feel like the fat on my back is starting to vanish.

NSV (Round 3) 2024 List

May 4th- healthy meal prepped. Getting back on the wagon after seeing my friend has lost 40lbs!

May 5th- Debby bought black bear family breakfast with out asking. I used a small plate and did not eat the giant bisquits and the pancakes. I also stopped myself from making country gravy. Speed walked my mile. Had an orange, blueberries, blackberries, grapes, and shrimp as my late night tv watching snack instead of unhealthy binging (body LOVED THIS).

May 6th- Completely 100% kicked my sugar in coffee habit. I never need it again. Just a splash of milk in fine for me.

May 9th- Found healthier options at fast food. Got an egg mcmuffin and iced latte for 400 cal. instead of a carmel frappe with two sausage mcmuffins that equal 1,308 cal. Smarter choices not necessarily the best choices :) Small portions of the costco mac and cheese MIL made at dinner time.

May 10th- super prepped breakfasts and snacks to limit food waste and didn't want to go shopping today.

May 11th- Only bought healthy things at Costco

May 12th- Did not drink the peets drink debby got me (with out me asking) because it had 53g of sugar in it.

May 14th- prepped pumped up chicken salad because I knew I would be busy for the next few days. MIL ordered pizza, fried ravioli, giant garlic knots for dinner and... I didn't have any of it.

May 15th- Realizing that my body needs a lot of water to not be constipated with this extra fiber. Realizing that big dinners is not real 'weight' on the scale but may take days for it to reflect that on the scale. Small plates really trick the brain.

May 16th- Did my final even though my hubby drank and started a fight with me

May 17th- Even though I had nations hot dog and fries debby bought I was under 1600 cal of the day.

May 19th- Did not eat the donuts MIL brought home. Drank a lot of water :)

May 25th- Added notes to weight spikes for data collecting instead of discouragement. Weeded my front yard for an hour. Went out with friends that included food and drinks but lived a little, Enjoying life and my accomplishments.

May 26th- Let my kiddo 'train' me. Jogged the first time in YEARS.

May 28th- Joined a gym :) Beat my last round of being focused! Walked with a friend.

May 29th- Found my fitness watch! First day at the gym. Met with a personal trainer and found out where I am, previous pit falls, and my current goals. Did everything he told me to do even though it was difficult. prepped egg white bites. Made a tea drawer. MIL bought Chinese food for dinner and I made a healthy veggy side and used a small plate.

May 30th- First work out class at the gym. Legs convulsing/ twitching

May 31st- Got A's in both of my college classes :D Went to the beach to celebrate because I wanted to celebrate in a way that didn't involve food or alcohol.

June 1st- DnD night. Got my house scrubbed down for it. Had spaghetti but portion controlled it. Had daves bread instead of garlic bread. Tracked everything. Got a compliment from Heather that my face looks thinner, that Claire pointed it out to her on Tuesday. I motivated her to download the cronometer app and lose weight with me :D

June 2nd- Didnt gain weight after DnD night. Went to the gym :) Went and bought healthy salad dressing to replace my high calorie blue cheese addiction

June 3rd- Finding healthier options to satisfy hubbys french fry craving. Air-fried french fries are a win! Worked out with my friends at the gym

June 4th- Packed healthy snacks to the beach. Pretracked taco bell, but even though it fit into my calories for the day, I didn't get it and I dug deeper into why I feel the 'tradition' of food and why I was for a second going to let the calorie tracker be in control of me when I am in control of it. Also realizing that my super fat healthy sandwich left me stuffed for HOURS when two tacobell soft tacos wouldn't of done the same.

June 5th- Wanted to get multiple fast food and desserts after getting bad news and took a weed gummy. Instead had taco bell but it was in my calorie range.

June 6th- Went to the gym and did a 30-minute ability class instead of crawling into a depression hole. My legs twitched and convulsed less than last week!

June 7th- Went home and had a super healthy volume dinner for under 500 calories after getting high at my mom's house instead of staying over there and having pizza. Got a compliment from my uncle that it looked like I was losing weight- shared some tips with him.

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love-takes-work · 5 years ago

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I’ve recreated every food in Steven Universe

OKAY I THINK I FINALLY DID IT

I FINALLY RECREATED EVERY RECIPE FROM THE SHOW

Sooooo . . . what did I miss?

Now it’s your turn to help me be sure I got them all. Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

Reblog this post suggesting a food from the show (with or without screencap; just enough so I can recognize it). The weirder the better.

I will respond to you with my photo of when I made that food.

If I can’t deliver, I will like send you $10 or draw you a SU fanart or something. (We’ll negotiate.)

I will accept asks instead of reblogs if you prefer.

It’s fine if you have a fairly common or easy suggestion and you just wanna see it. ;)

I’m offering this incentive because I really want some help combing the show for foods I might have forgotten! Your help is appreciated!

Edit: Adding responses. :D

Dog-Nut (Pilot!)

Classic Hot Dog (Intro)

Fry Bits (2 - “Laser Light Cannon” & others)

Together Breakfast (4 - “Together Breakfast”)

Popcorn for Onion (7 - “Bubble Buddies”)

Giant Strawberry (8 - “Serious Steven” & others)

Large Pizza, Extra Fishy (10 - “Steven’s Lion”)

Cereal to stop the Foot (11 - “Arcade Mania”)

Aqua Mexican Burrito (13 - “So Many Birthdays”)

Movie Snacks (17 - “Lion 2: The Movie”)

Crystal Lizards (17 - “Lion 2: The Movie”)

Hot Dogs & Hamburgers (18 - “Beach Party”)

Lars’s Lunch (20 - “Coach Steven”)

Fire Salt & Fire Salt Donuts (21 - “Joking Victim”)

Big Fat Zucchini with Linguine (22 - “Steven and the Stevens”)

Chaaaaps (23 - “Monster Buddies”)

Mi Torta (23 - “Monster Buddies”)

Durian Juice (24 - “An Indirect Kiss”)

Fish Kebabs & Giant Fish (30 - “Island Adventure”)

Cheeseball Cake (32 - “Fusion Cuisine”)

Breadsticks (32 - “Fusion Cuisine”)

Shrimp Appetizer (32 - “Fusion Cuisine”)

Onion Rings (33 - “Garnet’s Universe”)

Baby Melon (34 - “Watermelon Steven”)

Nice Spicey Pretzels (35 - “Lion 3: Straight to Video”)

Mama Sadie Lunch (35 - “Lion 3: Straight to Video”)

Garnet’s Chocolate Chip Cookies (37 - “Warp Tour”)

Mayo Sandwich (39 - “Future Vision”)

Bindle Lunches (40 - “On the Run”)

Marshmallows (42 - “Winter Forecast”)

Waffle Egg Sandwich (42 - “Winter Forecast”)

Caprese Salad (47 - “Shirt Club”)

Three-Way Sub (55 - “Say Uncle”)

Pizza Steve (55 - “Say Uncle”)

Tea and Cookies (55 - “Say Uncle”)

Pile of Food (57 - “Reformed”)

Snack Sushi (Season 2 Short - “Cooking With Lion”)

Biscuits & Jam (58 - “Sworn to the Sword”)

Smoothie & Orange Slices (58 - “Sworn to the Sword”)

Best Breakfast in the World (64 - “Keystone Motel”)

Noodles and Butter (65 - “Onion Friend”)

Potato Steven (65 - “Onion Friend”)

Lion Lickers (68 - “Nightmare Hospital”)

Amethyst’s Hoagie (79 - “Super Watermelon Island”)

Fresh Big Donut Donuts (84 - “Steven Floats”)

Guacola (85 - “Drop Beat Dad”)

Pepe’s Burgers (86 - “Mr. Greg”)

The Finest Steak and Brie (86 - “Mr. Greg”)

Corndogs (87 - “Too Short to Ride”)

Pizza Bagel & Fantastic Fries (90 - “Restaurant Wars”)

Fancy Orange Juice (93 - “Alone at Sea”)

PROTES Protein Bars (95 - “Gem Hunt”)

Pine Needle Tea (95 - ”Gem Hunt”)

Sugar Shock Shut Down (109 - “Last One Out of Beach City”)

Apple Sidra (109 - “Last One Out of Beach City”)

Gem Harvest & Wedding Cake (111-112 “Gem Harvest”)

Korean Lunch (114 - “Steven’s Dream”)

Zoo Fruit (117 - “The Zoo”)

Pumpkin-Shaped Pumpkin Bread (126 - “The Good Lars”)

Ube Roll (126 - “The Good Lars”)

Cool Kids Potluck (126 - “The Good Lars”)

Jungle Moon Alien Carcass (140 - “Jungle Moon”)

Meal for Stranded Humans (144 - “Lars’ Head”)

Everything Pizza (148 - “What’s Your Problem”)

Together Breakfast Wedding Cake (151-152- “Reunited”)

Bixbite’s Pizzas (SUF 2 - “Guidance”)

Snow Cones (SUF 2 - “Guidance”)

Crystal Drinks (SUF 3 - “Rose Buds”)

Carrot Bean Meal (SUF 3 - “Rose Buds”)

Tomato Soup on the Go (SUF 5 - “Bluebird”)

Clams, Peanut Butter, & a side of fresh-cut grass (SUF 5 - “Bluebird”)

Bluebird’s Cake (SUF 5 - “Bluebird”)

Fried Eggs (on Amethyst’s face) (SUF 7 - “Snow Day”)

Protein Shake (SUF 7 - “Snow Day”)

Spicy Chili (SUF 11 - “In Dreams”)

Together Forever Cake (SUF 13 - “Together Forever”)

Cookie Cat Ice Cream (SUF 14 - “Growing Pains”)

Cocoa (SUF 14 - “Growing Pains”)

Ice Cream a La Pie (SUF 15 - “Mr. Universe”)

Caveats and Rules (read if participating):

It counts as a recipe for the show only if it is eaten or to be eaten by a character (onscreen or implied to have been) or otherwise prominently featured. (e.g., Together Breakfast would count even though it was not eaten, but random food sitting around incidentally in a fridge or bake case does not count as a recipe.)

Food items that are only mentioned but not pictured don’t count.

Food items that are part of the background art don’t count unless they are significant or interacted with at some point. This includes mentioned or pictured items on restaurant menus.

Note: I HAVE actually made some things that have only been mentioned or pictured on menus! So feel free to suggest them if you really want to see if I made them! But for purposes of qualifying for a reward, I can’t commit to making the entire bake case, pizza joint menu, Spacetries display, or commercial cooler full of food if they’re more scenery than snacks.

If I have made an item once and it recurs, it doesn’t count as a different recipe if it appears in a different configuration in a later episode. (e.g., if I made an ube roll for “The Good Lars,” I don’t have to make a new one for Steven Universe: The Movie.)

Non-food items eaten by animals, monsters, and Amethyst do not count as recipes. (e.g., I do not consider it a recipe when the Big Bird from “Giant Woman” ate a goat and Steven. I do not consider it a recipe when Amethyst eats wrappers or garbage. Weird food she eats is OK. As long as it is food.)

YES, I count all qualifying food in Steven Universe, Steven Universe: The Movie, Steven Universe Future, and any official shorts as fair game.

NO, I do not count food in the comics, the video games, the official or tie-in books, Ronaldo’s blog, or the Crewniverse’s celebratory food as recipes I have to make.

There is a lot of generic popcorn, chips, and soda in this show. I don’t count it as a new recipe every time someone munches one of these as an incidental snack.

Very minor variations on common snacks don’t count as new recipes. (e.g., I don’t have to make every donut or flavor of Chaaaaps anyone was ever seen eating. Including variation options in my recipe is enough.)

Random messes made with food do not have to be recreated as recipes. (e.g., Onion smearing condiments all over the kitchen is not a recipe; pizzas that get destroyed or thrown around are not new recipes; Greg and Steven scattering food leavings around their Empire City hotel is not a recipe; a seagull with a banana peel on its head carrying pizza does not count; Steven scattering the contents of his kitchen on the floor while making Together Breakfast is not a recipe, etc.)

Yes, the foods will be prepared/arranged by me. In most cases they are homemade creations but in some cases store-bought elements will be used and that is also OK.

Food-shaped items that aren’t actually food are not recipes. (e.g., game controllers shaped like ham do not count. Crying Breakfast Friends are characters, not food.)

Things made out of food do not count unless they are eaten. (e.g., Fish Stew Pizza is required; Jenny made out out of pizza in Kiki’s dream is not.)

Vegetarian alternatives, facsimiles designed to look but not taste like certain foods, and ingredient substitutes are permissible. (e.g., vegetarian pepperoni on a pizza that was REAL pepperoni in the show is allowed; a non-fish substitute for a real dead fish is OK; dishes representing disgusting food that are secretly delicious are all right, etc.)

Thanks for your help. :)

#steven universe #steven universe food #su food #food #long post #myblog

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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

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Vampire Transformation

M monster X GN reader, 3045 words.

You’ve been experiencing some strange changes in your behavior recently. Can this strange man really make sense of it for you?

You opened your eyes and stared up at the ceiling. For the past few nights, you had been completely unable to sleep.

Nothing had worked. You’d never had any problems with insomnia before. If anything, you’d had the opposite problem; getting out of bed in the morning had been a nightmare. You’d blacked out almost the instant your head had hit the pillow and you’d stayed that way until your alarm went off in the morning.

But in the past week, you’d grown restless the instant the sun vanished from the sky. It was like the sun going down flipped a switch in your body and you were wired. Not only were you not tired, but you were borderline restless. Lying in bed was tantamount to torture- minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness and the energy buzzing inside you made it feel like your skin was crawling.

Every night, the restless feelings got worse until, driven by some odd instinct, you left the house and headed out into the night.

Luckily, you lived in a fairly large city, and in a decent part of it. People wandered the streets at all hours of the night and day, which mean that you were completely inconspicuous. Driven by some odd instinct, you just meandered through the streets, waiting until morning so you could actually collapse.

“Good hunting.” You whirled around. A man was standing uncomfortably close to you. How he’d gotten there without you noticing, you had no idea. But he was there and he fell into step next to you as if you’d invited him to do so. “Didn’t realize there were any others on this turf. You’ll want to stake your claim if you don’t want anyone encroaching.”

You stared at him. Was he in a gang? He was wearing a white button-down and black dress pants with a dark jacket slung over his shoulder, which wasn’t what you considered gang style. He was also incredibly pale, almost glowing in the dark, and quite slender. Nothing about him struck you as a gangbanger. But you couldn’t think about anything else he could be referring to.

“I think you have the wrong person,” you said as carefully as you could manage. The man lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly disbelieving. He seemed to be waiting for you to suddenly go ‘Just kidding!’ When you didn’t, and the silence stretched on, the faint smile he’d been sporting slipped from his face and he gave you a more piercing look.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” he said. His voice was softer, and there was a note in it that vacillated between amused and horrified.

“Uh. No,” you said. “Look, I think you have the wrong person. I-”

The man burst out into deep, chesty laughter, even throwing his head back. “I do not,” he said. “But I think I may be a little premature in my questioning. I’ll have to wait a little bit. Until I see you again.”

He didn’t so much vanish as he simply melted away into the night. One moment he was there, the next he’d just simply faded into the shadows and he was gone.

You blinked and swung your gaze back and forth, wondering if he would suddenly pop out of the shadows again. He didn’t return after a few minutes and the buzzing energy inside you prompted you to keep moving. You trotted along the streets.

The instant the sky started to lighten, the switch inside you that had been driving you to move an be outside flipped back the other way. You’d already wandered back to the area your apartment was in, but you still had to practically drag yourself up the stairs and into your bed. The instant your head struck the pillow, you were out.

You were out for nearly two hours before you managed to claw your way back to wakefulness. You only just managed to write out an email to your professor, telling her you weren’t going to be in class that day, before sleep sucked you back down.

You knew it was night when you woke up because your mind was sharp, no longer fogged with sleep. Not only were you focused, but you were hungry. Not a normal hunger, but something that was sharp and painful. It felt like there were shards of glass inside you cutting your stomach to shreds. It was the worst hunger pangs you’d ever experienced.

For a few minutes, you fumbled through your refrigerator, but there was nothing inside that appealed to you. You tried a few bites of your usual favorites, even digging up the pint of ice cream you’d been saving from your freezer. None of it was appealing. Your stomach, ravaged by hunger as it was, turned when you tried to eat a carrot.

The energy of the night was burning through you again and you staggered outside. The urgent need to move, to patrol, blazed in you almost stronger than your hunger.Something was wrong with your head. It was getting harder and harder to focus. It felt like the moments before you fell asleep- your consciousness blinking in and out. You weren’t going unconscious, but it was like your higher thinking was just fading away for a moment, so you were only a bundle of instincts.

You were so hungry. You were starving. Drool welled in your mouth. Food. Eat.

Something delicious wafted near you on the air. It was rich and savory and wonderful. Your conscious mind flickered for one moment, then blinked out. Instinct ruled your mind. You half vanished into the shadows of an alleyway and crouched.

The scent passed by you and you lunged. Your hands landed around his throat and closed with almost crushing strength. He couldn’t make a sound as you pulled him back, slammed him to the ground and plunged your teeth into him.

Thick, coppery liquid welled in your mouth. It was delicious, like biting into the best steak you’d ever had. It filled and soothed the awful pain in your stomach. Little whimpers welled in your throat as you drank and drank.

“I did think I’d find you here.” Someone tapped your shoulder with a foot. “Come on, let him go. You’ve terrified the poor man.”

You released him, spinning to snarl at the intruder. Some distant part of your mind recognized him as the person who had spoken to you the night before. The rest of you recognized him as an enemy. You bared your teeth and a terrible snarl rippled out through your chest.

The man chuckled. “Ooh, scary. Come on, get up.” He tapped you again with the toe of his shoe. You twisted back to look at the enemy and your prey scrambled out from underneath you. “Sorry about her. She’s a newbie, you know. Always hard training the new recruits, you know?”

The man made a motion to bolt out of the alley, managed to get to his feet, then swayed and collapsed. “Blood loss. Poor guy. He’ll be fine, probably. As for you…” The man rounded on you. You gave another deep snarl, making it as threatening as you could. “Look, you’re not as threatening as you’re trying to be by half. Chill.”

He crouched in front of you. His eyes roved over you for a moment. “You’re only about halfway through this, and it’ll get worse before it gets better. Calm down.”

There was a sensation like your mind was being turned inside out and you were suddenly very aware that you were crouched in an alleyway, human blood dribbling down your chin, the collapsed body of a human you’d tried to eat lying behind you.

“Oh my god.” Your voice was high and thin, almost on the edge of breaking. “Oh my god. What the fuck is happening to me?”

“There you go!” The man clapped a hand on your shoulder. “You’re back. Now let’s get the hell out of here. That guy’s gonna wake up and we’re not going to want to be around when he does.”

You were in such a state of shock that you simply allowed him to pull you to your feet and tug you down the street. Blood was still sticky on your chin, but the way he swept his arms around you and held a hand up close to your mouth made it look like he was trying to protect a bleeding cut. It at least seemed to quell any suspicions.

The man hauled you off to a small apartment tucked into a little alcove. It was shabby on the inside, full of the musty smell of dust and with moth-eaten furniture. The man seated you on a couch and fetched a damp cloth. “Wipe your face off. When you eat in the future, don’t dribble it all over your chin. It’s wasteful and really gross.”

You mopped at your face, wiping away the sticky trails of blood. You couldn’t stop shaking. “What is happening to me?”

The man grinned, revealing long, slightly curved fangs that nearly touched his lower lip. “You’ve becoming a vampire. Didn’t you guess that already?”

“I can’t be,” you said flatly. “I’ve never been attacked.”

“Misconception.” The man turned and started to rummage in his small refrigerator. “I mean, not a total misconception. It’s kind of right. Most humans that are turned are bitten. Just not all of them.” He emerged from the refrigerator holding a bottle, the sort people used at the gym for carrying protein shakes. It was full of a thick, pinkish liquid. He thrust it at you.

“What is that?” you asked. You took it cautiously and sniffed at it. It smelled sweet. “Is it blood?”

The man rolled his eyes. “No. It’s a smoothie.” You gave him a skeptical look. Was that sarcasm or something? “I’m not kidding. Just drink.”

You took a sip. It was incredibly thick and berry flavored, though you couldn’t make out any individual fruits. Something about the sugar cleared the remaining clouds in your head. “Vampires drink smoothies?”

The man gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “No. Not exactly. You’re not really a vampire yet. I don’t know why, but fruit smoothies can soothe the edge of the bloodlust for a little bit. Something about the sugar content or something, I don’t know. Milkshakes are pretty good too.”

“I’m not a vampire? But you just said I was,” you said uncertainly. The man shrugged.

“I said you were turning into a vampire, not that you’re one right now. Name’s Marcus, by the way. I, if you haven’t already guessed, am a full vampire.”

You took another slurp of your smoothie. “But I didn’t get bit by anyone?”

“No. See, vampires don’t just reproduce by biting. We can also reproduce. And sometimes, we reproduce with humans. Usually, it’s not a big deal. Have a little half vampire, usually they grow into a big full vampire and join their parent as a creature of the night. But sometimes, little half vampire looses their vampire traits when they get older. Instead of going with their vampire parent, they grow up as a human. Probably marry a human and have a bunch of little human kids. And then those little human kids grow up and have more human kids, so on and so forth. But the vampire DNA keeps getting passed on and sometimes, if there’s enough of a push, the vampire traits can emerge.”

You pulled the pieces together. “I have a vampire in my family tree?”

“More than one, probably. It’s more common to have that side emerge if there’s a push from both sides of the family. It’s a genetic hiccup, or a throwback. For whatever reason, you have enough vampire in you for that bit to assert itself. By the end of the week, you’ll be a full vampire.”

You stared at him, swallowing hard. “In a week.”

“Yes. Roughly.” Marcus sat forward a little in his seat and gave you a smile. It was clearly intended to be friendly, but the enormous canines just didn’t allow it. “And I am going to help you.”

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but within two days, you were patrolling the city with Marcus. The smoothies were no longer taking the edge off your bloodlust and Marcus, after teaching you as much vampire lore as you could stand, decided that practical learning was also important.

“This is my territory,” he said, trotting down a street. “It covers five city blocks, which isn’t the biggest territory, but there’s a lot of competition in the city. But at least it has enough humans in it.”

You looked around. Marcus had kept insisting that all vampires could sense where their territory ended and another’s began, but you couldn’t sense anything. All you were really aware of was that everyone who passed you smelled really good and the electric lights were piercingly bright.

“All right?” Marcus asked. You squinted up at him. The streetlight behind him haloed his strong facial features in a shimmering light.

“It’s bright,” you complained.

“The lights? Your eyes will get a little more used to it when the changing settles down. For now, I have a pair of sunglasses somewhere.” He patted the pockets of his long coat. It swooshed around him when he moved and looked appropriately vampire-esque.

Your gums itched and prickled and mild aches suffused your body. You slumped against a wall, grimacing. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of yours stomach, and you were pretty sure that wasn’t just nerves. Something in you was changing.

“Here you go!” Marcus slid the glasses onto your face, somehow managing not to poke you in the eye. You readjusted them carefully. They were easy to see through, even at night. “Are you okay?”

You realized that, over the last few minutes, you had been leaning more and more heavily on the wall for support. Your knees felt a little like jelly. “Um. I don’t feel very well.” Your gums were pulsing and waves of alternating hot and cold flooded your body.

Marcus took hold of your shoulder and gently pushed you into an alleyway. “Sit here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He bolted off and you placed your head between your knees. Things seemed to be squirming under your skin. You were flushed, but chills worked their way over your body. It felt like you’d come over with a sudden and terrible bout of the flu.

Something thumped to the ground in front of you. A delicious smell wafted up to you and the pulsing in your gums sharpened to a painful throbbing.

“Drink,” Marcus said. One of his hands slid down your back and he lifted the body he’d dropped in front of you to your mouth. You lunged forward, biting into the soft flesh and gulping the blood that spilled forth.

You were much neater this time, gulping down almost every drop. After only a few delicious mouthfuls, Marcus detached you. “You’re shivering,” he said. You were, and the squirming of your innards was only getting worse.

Marcus leaned you back against the wall. “Hey, I was slightly off in my timing,” he said. His voice was pitched oddly, like he was trying to be soothing, but he was barely suppressing panic himself. “You’re making the full shift to vampire now.”

Your eyes popped open and you stared wildly at him. “What?”

Marcus ignored your obvious panic and hauled you up into his arms. Carefully, he swung you around and onto his back. “Hold on tight,” he said.

It was not easy to hold onto the back of a vampire going at full speed. Motion sickness made your head spin and you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into the back of his neck. His smell was stronger than you’d ever smelled it before, sort of earthy and pleasant. You found yourself breathing deeply.

With a jerk, Marcus dug his feet into the ground and came to a stop. You clung to him, startled, until his hands worked your fingers loose from around his neck.

You in the middle of a sparsely forested area. Still in the city, from what you could hear. A park, then. Marcus offered you his coat and you slipped it on. “Wanted to get you away from people, somewhere relatively quiet. You’ll be disoriented for a moment when you wake up. It’s better to be somewhere like this.”

“Wake up?” Your voice was slurred.

“You’re going to pass out. But it’ll be all right. I’ll be right here.”

You felt like you were falling asleep rapidly. A tingling numbness crept up through your legs, then your arms, crawling toward your neck. Your eyes opened once, to see Marcus smiling gently down at you. Then they fell shut and you fell into darkness.

The first thing you were aware of was the smell. It invaded your senses, permeated your brain. There were unpleasant scents far away, some appealing ones that made your mouth water, and, close by, the earthy smell of dirt and wood and, closest of all, a pleasant, slightly earthy, slightly spiced scent.

You opened your eyes. It was bright. Really bright, almost daytime bright. But you could see, beyond the trees, that the moon was still out. You ran your tongue along your teeth. Your canines were extended and they itched a little.

“Feeling okay?” You turned your head. Marcus was leaning over you, a slight grin on his face. The moonlight seemed to make his skin glow and there was something mesmerizing in his eyes. “Woah,” you said. Marcus grinned.

“I could say something similar,” he said. “Hungry?”

Your stomach twisted and you nodded. “Starving.” Marcus tugged you to your feet.

As he led you out of the park, you became more aware of the territory boundaries. You could sense them, somehow, like glowing lines along the ground. It made you a little unsettled.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” you asked. Marcus grinned, canines glinting.

“No. I like you too much for that,” he said. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got some hunting to do.”

Together, you ran off into the night.

#exophilia #vampire #monsterxhuman #vampire lover #vampire boyfriend #monster lover #vampirexhuman

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psychosuna · 4 years ago

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a/n: kinda fluffy and a bit boring these r just my self indulgent thoughts ,, feel free to send rqs

daichi: makes the same breakfast every morning. eggs and toast and some sort of protein. probably drinks black coffee, adds a little cream and sugar if he’s feeling fancy. a ketchup user and abuser. “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” blah blah just say you’re capable of waking up early and go.

asahi: idk why i just see asahi as a big baby thags like incapable of doing anything for himself honestly like his mom probs still makes him breakfast either that or he has a bowl of cereal.

sugawara: pop tart man. also goes feral over toaster strudels. the way he frosts them is an exact science. coffee but it’s light roast. uses creamer, duh.

noya: really likes ego waffles. toasts like 2-3 and gets really fuckin impatient so he just eats them as the next ones are toasting. probably drinks a glass of milk after like a freak. he’s always running late in the morning but will turn into a fuckin grouch if he doesn’t eat. it’s placebo. he just thinks he’s in a bad mood.

tanaka: i see this man as a scrambled eggs type of guy. it’s simple. the only thing he knows how to cook, actually. that, and mac n cheese (same). drank orange juice w bfast all through highschool and had a coffee awakening in college. doesn’t eat if he’s running late.

ennoshita: doesn’t eat breakfast, usually just has a cup of coffee and will eat a little something a couple hours later. he’s just not hungry in the morning.

hinata: probs has a whole ass family breakfast every morning in highschool. mum cooked eggs, bacon, rice (enter traditional japanese breakfast because i’m uneducated). when he went to college he tried to keep up with making a big breakfast every morning, and succeeds for the most part. not big on coffee.

kageyama: cereal boy. goes for somewhat sugary cereals, also the type to have a granola bar or something otw to school/classes. on game days , he makes a big breakfast. also not big on coffee.

tsukishima: tbh i headcanon him eating oatmeal and i really wish he didn’t. like, strawberry oatmeal or the strawberry K cereal is really just his favorite. coffee expert, really picky about the grounds he uses and the way he makes it. takes pride in his morning coffee. he can go without eating but he truly cannot go without coffee.

yamaguchi: pretty baby probably just eats a bowl of cereal or something. he doesn’t think too much about it but also tends to not skip breakfast. sometimes tsukki will bring him a coffee , but he doesn’t make it on his own.

kuroo: foggy area here. usually skips breakfast, always makes the coffee right when he wakes up but sometimes forgets to make a mug or a coffee to take with him to classes. sometimes he just randomly wakes up at the crack of dawn and makes a huge ass breakfast. he’s not used to eating a big breakfast, so when he does, it tears his stomach up.

kenma: he was up playing games and snacking all night. he’s full from the cosmic brownies and monster energy drinks he had at 4am before he ultimately crashed. and if he does have breakfast, it’s probably some sugary ass cereal. get some proper sleep, freak.

lev: probs has like a typical russian breakfast honestly, he grew up w it and still makes it to this day. a typical bfast for him is fried eggs with kolbasa and dill on top. family recipe type kid. this is only when he can be fucked to make it, though.

oikawa: motherfucker makes smoothies for breakfast. not even the protein shake types, like the fruity ass spinach ass types of smoothies that probably have more sugar than anything else in them. he’s thinks he’s eating “clean.” also stops by a starbucks or soemthing every morning bc he likes the complicated ass coffees rather than just making his own.

iwaizumi: i see him actually like, enjoying making breakfast. his go-to is a quick breakfast burrito. on weekends, hes a whore for chicken and waffles. probably uses a lot of hot sauce. definitely drinks black coffee he has big dick energy

matsukawa: skips breakfast entirely. literally cannot be fucked. if he eats in the morning, he goes to mcdonalds. mans never fucked with coffee, either. i’m telling you guys, he’s got a big dick, but this is one sketchy mfer.

hanamaki: really likes bagels. everything bagels with a shit ton of cream cheese. coffee with a tiny bit of cream and sugar. he’s classy. he’s perfect. i adore him.

bokuto: his mom always told him that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and why would he doubt her ? he makes the birds eye egg thinf with the hole in the bread and then puts in the pan and cracks the egg in the whole. you guys know what i’m talking about. another ketchup user and abuser but i’m less mad bc, cmon, it’s bokuto!

akaashi: this mfer. THIS MFER. i adore him truly. wait for it... greek yogurt. he gets the tubs of greek yogurt, sometimes the honey flavored kind, and will cut up fruit and put granola on top, and has espresso. he’s just. so sexy honestly.

tendou: always making something weird to be fucking honest. liek the motherfucker never skips breakfast, but he’ll straight up eat left over takeout from the night before at like 7:30am. what’s wrong with him. tries homemade pancakes every once in a while and they aren’t even that bad, he just puts WAY too much syrup on top.

semi: will have one cup of black coffee and that’s literally it.

ushijima: has the same thing every single morning. he never switches up. protein shake (black coffee in the shake), one fried egg, two pieces of bacon. it’s the perfect combo why would he ever even need to change it?

goshiki: tbh this mfer is always in a rush in the mornings but u know what. two pieces of toast and grape or strawberry jam. he’s a lil jam on toast cutie tell me i’m wrong. i’d die for him.

osamu: if he doesn’t have time to cook, he won’t eat. he doesn’t see the point in eating pre packaged shit. he wants to really get in the kitchen and make something. poor baby just wakes up late sometimes.

atsumu: if osamu doesn’t have time to cook, he won’t eat. fiend ass motherfucker. don’t get me wrong, i love him, but he’s so fucking annoying. will smell food and walk in the kitchen like “what’s for breakfast lil bro?” and osamu is all like “nothing for you dipshit” but he always gives in and feeds the mfer

suna: nothing. like. ever. he forgets. doesn’t have a big appetite and he can’t cook for shit unless it’s edibles so he just doesn’t bother. a coffee addict but refuses to tell anyone.

kita: a nice ol mug of fresh coffee, maybe some eggs, maybe some sausage, whatever he feels like! tries to eat every morning bc he knows it’s for the best. is a morning person so it’s not like he doesn’t have time!

terushima: a monster and a protien bar. likes the coffee flavored monsters in the morning , though. cheese toast on occasion.

sakusa: black coffee, two splendas, avocado toast. he’s got taste.

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨︎ ✰ thank u for reading! | ೃ࿔₊•

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sadboyayeron · 4 years ago

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@criswisstuff “I may be projecting a little bit the guy being scared of women old enough to be his mother is really possible. Also the "I haven't sleep or eaten in four days because I don't deserve it " during a depressive episode” asks from this post

Hope you like this :)

(TW/mental illness/ed/etc.)

Aaron always struggled with food. I mean it wasn’t his fault. He would go days without eating, especially during the summer when there wasn't any school lunch to be provided. His Mom would either forget to go grocery shopping that week or she was to high to care. Eventually she would remember, or just give him the money to get it himself. He picked up learning how to cook his own food. On the good days she would teach him some recipes she knew.

It wasn’t that he disliked food, he just didn’t care much for it. It wasn’t a “priority”. He deffiently didn't care while he was still on drugs. They hit harder on a empty stomach anyways. Now that he was sober he only eats because he needs to. Maybe some extra protein because he lifted or had a hard practice that day. Some sweets because of Andrew’s sugar addiction. Whatever Nicky decided to order, or what smoothie Kevin decided to put in front of him. He tended to drink a lot of caffeine, in the morning, while studying. His appetite was often curved.

Another issue was that he tended to eat everything and anything put in front of him. He remembers the beatings he’d gotten from disliking his food, or the days he should have finished because he didn't know when the next meal would come. He ate till he was completely full, a lot of the times to fast.

With all this his weight has never been a real problem, he eats enough. He never felt it really effected his daily activities. He barely noticed it himself.

That was until he had overflowing school work, plus Kevin being up everyones ass about the up coming game that Friday. He had a project that was due, and three different test. Aaron liked to take lots of notes and then study for hours to prepare himself for a test. Starting Monday the only thing he consumed was caffeine. He didn't have time to think about what he was eating. Matt knew not to bother him and he wasn’t around the monsters much to be handed something to eat. He was harsh to Nicky on Tuesday which caused the older cousin to keep his distance. He didn't say much during his session with Bee and Andrew. He just told them about the shit ton of work he needed to do. Andrew didn't comment much, he really wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, to wrapped up in biology vocabulary.

Before the game Kevin made them drink some shakes. It was disgusting and he was the only one besides Kevin that actually finished it. He drank some coffee too. Only till the second half of the game did Aaron start to feel the headache he was commonly getting during practice. He got pushed hard into the glass by one of the other team strikers and then got subbed off.

When he was walking off he felt like his head was about to fall off. Abby came to him quickly which made him flinch. He had to make a double take, luckily enough she was to worried to notices. Aaron told her he felt dizzy so she handed him some gatorade and a cold clothe to rest around his neck. He started to feel normal again once the game came to an end with a last shot from Josten.

After the game the group got ready to go to Columbia. While changing he noticed he looked like shit. Well he always looks sleep deprived but now it just looked more shitty. He decided to steal some of Nicky’s eye liner. He never wore it often but he felt like it would be best to do it now. Nicky’s eyes lit up of course.

The ice cream at sweeties was harder to eat then usual. He actually liked sweets, much like his brother. But now his throat and chest felt like they were closing up. He tried to eat as slow as possible, so Andrew can start stealing some. When they got to Eden’s he felt himself start to slow down a bit. It was weird. He felt pretty wired all week almost, weather it was the caffeine or the drive to get his shit done. This feeling wasn’t unknown to him, but doesn't make it any less unexpected.

He kept to himself mostly, his mouth felt clench shut anyways at the moment. He ignore Andrew and Neil’s weird way of flirting and Kevin trying to not over drink. He just spited on his glass, that turned into four more. He started to feel the buzz, it almost felt like it wasn't there. Maybe he wasn’t entirely there either.

He stared out the window on the drive to the house. He liked driving in the dark. Seeing all the nights go by, nothing in between. Nicky and Kevin were seated next to him. They all been toning it down since Neil’s first seasons drama.

When they got to the house he went straight to him room. He wanted to shower but couldn’t find the effort to do so. He stuck to taking off his pants and shirt, throwing on a new top and leaving his boxers on. He turned off the lights then climbed into bed.

The next morning Aaron stayed in bed, he listen to some music on his phone. During the afternoon he decided to start watching the office. He didn't move. Everything felt heavy and started to blend together, time blended together. He faintly heard Nicky knocking on his door telling him something about ordering food. Food. He just kept staring at his phone screen.

Before he knew it, it was Sunday. He forgot they had no school on Monday or practice. So they would be leaving Monday afternoon.

Aaron thought he heard Andrew, or what sounded like his foot steps stopping in front of his door, but he stopped paying attention to that to know if he knocked or not. It wasn’t like he did this before. Of course he left his room to get food or use the bathroom. He probably should use the bathroom. He smelled, and needs to urinate. Getting up seemed more like a death sentence right now then the smell of sweat and the cramp in his lower stomach.

It wasn't until he heard his door open that he started to register that it was dark outside. Judging by the silence it was most likely his twin. He didn't turn around to check though. Just like he didn't bother to pause the show.

“It smells like shit in here.” Yeah he knew that, just didn't care. Aaron wanted to be left alone right now. His voice isn't working so he chose to continue to ignore Andrews presence. Not to be petty but it was a good taste of his own medicine. “I have food.” Aaron choose to look over at the door then. His brother holding a bowl of something, most likely cereal. Just sitting up was a chore. Andrew handed him the bowl. He looked towards Aaron’s phone, stuffed and walked out. He seemed like he wanted to say something, Aaron waited, then he heard the foot steps pause. But he then heard the door close. He stared at his bowl and picked up the spoon. The first bite was ash and sugar. The rest tasted like nothing as he scuffed it down. He sat it on the floor not to gently and turned back over to continue the show, not caring that it was probably a new episode by now.

Aaron was awoken by the need to piss. The cramp caused him to curl up with his knees to his chest. The sweat dripped down his forehead and his breathing came out ragged. He tried to crawl out of bed but fell on the floor in the process. He laid there instead, he felt one tear go down his face. He was not about to piss himself. He tried to get up again but then light shown in his face. Realizing the door opened he flinched back in surprise. Looking up he saw Neil standing there still holding the door handle. They watched each other closely before Neil came in and ask Aaron if it was okay to help him. He nodded a yes.

Neil got him to his feet and let Aaron hold on to his shoulder. When they got out the door he saw Andrew standing in the hallways. He saw emotion on his brothers face that he didn't want to see again. Once in the bathroom he relieved himself.

After he just sat on the bathroom floor and drifted off. Andrew woke him up when he heard the tub then shower start. His brother sat him on the toilet and told him to wash himself. When he left and shot the door Aaron got in fully clothed. He sat in the tub and let the water it him. He heard Andrew come back in.

“Hand me your clothes.” He slowly took off his shirt and had to stand up using the wall to take off his boxers. He handed them to Andrew around the curtain. When he felt more aware he grabbed his bar of soap and wash clothe and washed his body. He turned off the water and asked for a Towel. When his Brother handed it to him he left to let Aaron get out. He then changed into the clean clothes Andrew left on the toilet.

When he got out the bathroom he notice the sun was already starting to come up. It was still dark though. He went to the kitchen where he saw Nicky, who gave him a teary smile. He didn't understand way. Nicky handed him a sandwich and gave him a bigger smile. He whispered a thank you and slowly ate. If tears came to his eyes as he ate they didn't say anything.

When Kevin woke up he made Aaron a smoothie, one he actually thought wasn't disgusting.

#aaron minyard #andrew minyard #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfhc #neil josten #ed #aaron ed #kevin day #twinyards #minyard twins

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aforrestofstuff · 5 years ago

Note

I'd like to know if you have any cooking skills headcanons!! Like, from who's able to make a absolute meal to who burns microwaved instant noodles.

I’ve done a few individual headcanons about cooking before, but I think it’s time for a refresher. You could call this... the main course.

Okay, enough of that bullshit. Here’s the hcs. Thanks for your ask, anon! ❤️❤️💞

Disclaimer: this shit is crack as fuck because I have very strong feelings about cooking lmfao. FOH don’t interact.

Tornado of Terror: She’d find a way to burn ice cream, honestly. She tries so hard (by god she tries) but her meals always come out as a convoluted mess with ingredients that have no reason being together. She eats her steaks well done and boils hamburgers. It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t really spend too much time in the kitchen, however, because she knows she sucks at cooking and because of this, makes 90% of her diet consist of takeout. But if she did spend more of her day cooking, she’d probably discover the recipe to meth accidentally. It’s that bad.

Silverfang: Stubborn old grandpa way of cooking. He’s got a handful of recipes that have been passed down for generations and he’s gonna carry those fuckers to his grave. When Garou was living at the dojo, the little bastard would try to make some changes to these recipes and Bang had to will every molecule in his arthritis-riddled body to not RKO this kid (not really, Bang wouldn’t hurt a fly). But I digress. He’s a decent cook, knows all the fundamentals and all of that shit.

Atomic Samurai: Can’t cook or bake for shit although he, of course, talks himself up like he can. The extent of his cooking knowledge is only within the realm of “shit you can roast over a campfire when your cheap ass can’t scrape together enough coin to pay the electricity bill”. But now that he’s got that S-Class paycheck and three other disciples to freeload off of, they pretty much cater to his every food-related need. He’s useless in the kitchen. Utterly fucking useless.

Child Emperor: Doesn’t know how to cook (little bastard ain’t even tall enough to reach the stove imo) but luckily he’s got that PHAT BRAIN so he can easily just build a Gordon Ramsey bot 3000 to replace his incompetence in the kitchen. His diet consists of Dino nuggets and microwaveable noodles so it’s not like he’s doing the world a great disservice by not learning how to cook properly.

Metal Knight: Same as Child Emperor except he’s a rich bastard and programs his bots to make that fancy shit with only the finest ingredients. He’s got enough cash from doing black market tech trades and building up his robo-army that this motherfucker could snort caviar for fun. He’s a real pompous asshole about it.

King: His mom taught him to cook a few things, nothing serious. He’s one of those dudes that doesn’t really know how to make much, but the few dishes that he does know how to cook are fucking BOMB. He’s got a cast iron skillet for making pancakes and everything, bitch is already halfway to being a chef himself. Other than that, however, he’s a ramen monster. His blood is practically pre-packaged bone broth.

Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc but he’s a damn good cook. One problem though: he only knows how to make single servings of everything because he eats alone almost all the time. He specializes in meats. Bitch is a carnivore. He bought himself a set of those 500-dollar butcher knives so he can carve up cuts like a monster. He hemorrhages cash into fancy wood chips so he can get that smoky flavor juuuuust right. He’s got an Outdoor Chef setup on his patio. My mans is living the DREAM.

Drive Knight: He can eat but does he really need to? His cooking expertise is popping a new battery in. There you go.

Pig God: Oh my god if this man’s kitchen isn’t Michelin-Star quality. He eats a lot and he cooks a lot, it’s only natural. He’s got an indoor grill and pot chandelier and buys industrial-sized buckets of pickles and roast beef by the cow and— okay he just has a lot of food, alright? And he’s got that PHAT S-Class paycheck so my boy probably has a whole walk-in fridge just to put all the fucking food he eats. Bonus points if he hires a dishboy to work and a contractor to implement a three-sink dish station with “Clean-Rinse-Sanitize” stickers slapped on the steel, lol. But yeah, he cooks for 500 people at a time because he eats enough for 500 people at a time. Gotta maintain that figure, you know what I’m saying?

Superalloy Darkshine: He has. Oh my god— he has a full shelf dedicated to just. DOZENS OF JARS of whey protein. He has two blenders: one for fruit smoothies and one for protein shakes. His kitchen? Spotless. He knows how to cook and he eats like a bodybuilder (because he is one, duh) so he’s got that fridge STOCKED at all times. He cleans like he’s getting paid for it because nothing feels better than wiping down a gas stove until that bitch is spotless. However, his taste is garbage. He can throw down in the kitchen but does it taste good? No. Sometimes the ultra-healthy alternative to something isn’t always the greatest. He’s grown accustomed to putting zucchini in his cakes and almost damn well likes the texture of it, but don’t invite this guy to the potluck because he WILL show up with a vegetable nightmare that’s sure to make even vegans gag. Sorry bud, but nobody likes soy bacon.

Watchdog Man: furry ass.

Flashy Flash: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he’s pescatarian. He grew up on a coastal town before being sold of to the ninja village like a goddamned carpet and now fish is the only meat he eats. His cooking ability is about as good as one would expect from a homesless ninja. Like Atomic Samurai, he can throw it down over the campfire and still find a way to make a decent dish (in both presentation and taste) despite having limited knowledge and resources to work with. Bitch can whip up a five-star meal with some branches, a fish, and half a carrot like it was second nature. That’s about it though. He’s useless in an actual kitchen.

Genos: It’s canon. He’s a housewife. He only knows how to make the select few dishes that play an integral part in Saitama’s diet, though (because Genos can eat but he doesn’t really need to, so he only does it when he and Saitama are sharing a meal). Those dishes include things like: actual garbage. He cooks shit food. It’s not his fault. Saitama just eats like a fucking twat. There’s rats that live in the dumpster outside the restaurant I work in that have a better diet than him. Genos just works with what the poor bastard’s got and has gained a pretty mediocre grasp on cooking because of it. If he wanted to, though, he could easily be the best chef in all the land. Too bad he’s more focused on being an ultra-powerful speed demon.

Metal Bat: Tries his absolute best to cook healthy meals for him and Zenko when he almost always resorts to just popping a frozen pizza in the oven and calling it a day. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he eats his shit BURNT. Bitch like his steak well done, his yolks grey, and his chicken vaporized. The only exception to this is sushi because there really is no other way to enjoy it other than having it raw. Trust me, though. If there was a way to burn the fuck out of sashimi while still having it be sashimi, he’d find a way to do it and like it. But yeah, as I said: he sucks ass at cooking. He’s tried the tutorials, he’s bought the skillets, he’s sharpened the knives, but he just can’t fucking do it.

Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. They bond over gross-ass ultra-healthy recipes that only they enjoy. The Tanktop Gang loves him but they always kindly refuse to eat over at his house because they know he’s gonna try to make them ingest a broccoli loaf or some shit. He’s not too strict about his diet, though. He’ll chill out and have a pizza every once and a while, but only when he’s hanging out with the homies.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He has a job in prison where he helps out in the kitchen for seventy-five cents an hour, but that’s about the extent of it. He’s got the bare basics down and could put together a decent meal for date night if he really tried (and had a damn kitchen to work with). On top of that, he can throw down some tasty prison food recipes, hand-crafted from the brick box itself. Ramen pad Thai, anyone?

Amai Mask: he’s rich as fuck, why does he need to cook? Bitch hired a chef and now all he does it drink skim milk and eat food from the top shelf. He couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Poor bastard doesn’t even know what a whisk is. And don’t even get me started on how much of a slob he is. The ten-minute process of making a single plate of spaghetti will have his kitchen in such a disgusting state that it’ll take him and a trusty Mister Clean Magic Eraser five hours just to clean it up. That is, if he even has the basic human decency to pick up after himself. He’ll probably just hire someone to do for him and then tip them a crisp 100-dollar bill for their troubles, only to make an even worse mess tomorrow.

Iaian: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but yes: he can cook. It’s nothing special. He’s got a suburban dad sense of cooking where he, like King, can only make a select few dishes but makes those dishes taste magical. He’s got 0 utensils and shit kitchen to work with (because Kami’s place is probably like, centuries old on account of him still being a Samurai), but boy can Iaian whip up a feast like no other despite all that. It’s all protein-packed flavor bombs that look simple in comparison to, say, Zombieman or Metal Knight’s food, but it still tastes good all the same. Kama eats off of his plate all the time and it used to annoy him but they’ve grown so close that they might as well share forks at this point.

Okamaitachi: Can’t really cook, but they are a baking god. I don’t know much about baking but I know they’ve got a cupboard dedicated to their plethora of sourdough starters. They buy yeast by the pound and make enough bread to feed entire armies some days. Whatever the gang doesn’t eat, they donate it to the local homeless shelter and make it a habit to go out of their way performing good deeds that don’t always involve sword fighting (something Kami insists he instilled into them via his teachings— which is bullshit. Kama is just naturally good-hearted and sweet).

Bushidrill: Can’t cook or bake for shit but like Atomic Samurai and Flash, can throw it down on the campfire. Don’t let this man near any turkeys or pigs because he will spitroast the fuck out of them.

Fubuki: Okay, not only is she a great cook but she’s as dogmatic as a coked-out head chef. She and the Blizzard Group sometimes cook together in her massive kitchen (she poured all of her measly paycheck into it because by god, if her apartment doesn’t have a kitchen fit for a chef then it’s not worth living in), and she’ll be barking orders like a damn crow. She’s got the two-grand knife set, cast-iron everything, bronze accents on the sink, and the ability to deglaze a pan without starting a fire. She’s a natural. If she cooks for you, then that’s how you know she likes you. All in all, her food tastes and looks great. She’s a bit low on funds on account of being only Class-B, so she sometimes takes little shortcuts when plating her dishes, like using celery leaves in place of parsley and all that jazz.

Saitama: I’ve already said that his diet is absolute shit and part of that is due to being poor, but I will show mercy and say that he’s a decent cook. He only makes what he knows he’s gonna like and doesn’t leave any room for experimentation unless his budget allows it (which isn’t often). His kitchen only has the bare essentials. Genos has offered to buy him more equipment and even renovate the damn thing for him but Saitama refuses each time because then he’d have a bigass kitchen just for making a poor man’s omurice, and that would be a waste. His talent, though? Making a perfect omelet. He can fold the egg like a sheet with no tears and no brown spots. It tastes heavenly.

Mumen Rider: Ultra-safe in the kitchen. He doesn’t even own a knife sharpener because he’s clumsy enough to know he’ll cut himself the moment he even tries to use it. His pot handles all have coverings and he’s watched all of the food safety and fire safety videos out there. He could give a goddamned seminar on it. Food-wise, he’s a decent home cook. Nothing special. He does, however, share Superalloy and Tanktop’s nasty habit of over healthy-ing everything to oblivion and making it a tasteless, vegetative mess. It doesn’t matter if you invite him to the potluck or not because he’ll bring a cauliflower pizza anyway and y’all better fucking enjoy it or he’ll start crying.

Sonic: The same as Flashy Flash, minus the pescatarianism. He’d butcher a pig without blinking an eye, and often uses his katana in cooking (even though it poses like, 87 different safety hazards and is most definitely health violation). He can forage quite well and has taken a liking to wild mushrooms and berries over the years. It’s gotten so natural to him that he now knows by heart the specific time of year in which the wild berries are ripest, and which species of salmon inhabit certain streams on any given day.

Garou: Would burn water. End of story. His cooking is so bad and dangerous that everyone thinks he’s an arsonist when he really just starts fires on accident. Don’t let this fucker near a stove, for the love of god.

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kinglazrus · 4 years ago

Text

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Chapter Four: Fear the Reaper

Word count: 2494 | [ffn] [ao3] | [previous] [next]

Valerie makes it through dinner, somehow. It’s just her, Maddie, and Jack seated around the Fenton’s modest table in their cozy kitchen. Tucker left some time while Valerie was upstairs. Danny stays in his room the whole time, sleeping, or so his parents say. She helps clean up, because that’s the polite thing to do, and Maddie points out the frozen meals she’s prepared for the week ahead.

Danny needs hearty foods, she tells Valerie, but nothing too dense. If he doesn't have the appetite for it, make sure he eats at least one full meal. Otherwise, he subsists off smoothies chock full of vitamins and protein. Valerie feels more like a babysitter than a bodyguard as Maddie gives her a rundown of life at Fenton Works and Danny's daily routine.

Much to Valerie's relief, they leave the boring discussion behind soon enough and move on to what really matters—the Shade.

“We'll set up the fence tonight and leave it there for the week." Maddie passes Valerie one of two black boxes. "It's not very complex, so if Danny wants to move it, you can."

"Why would he move it?" Valerie hefts the box in her arms, surprised by its weight. It's not very large, fitting neatly under her arm, but still substantial enough that she needs two hands to properly secure it.

Jack, emerging from the basement door with two long extension cords on his arms, answers for Maddie. "It gets pretty boring being stuck in the same spot night after night, don't you think?"

Valerie, who sleeps at night and therefore prefers being in the same room the entire time—because waking up somewhere else would be incredibly disorienting—does not know how to respond to Jack's statement beyond a quiet, "Huh?"

Ignoring her noise of confusion, or simply not hearing it, Jack walks to the bottom of the stairs and calls Danny's name.

"Shouldn't we let him sleep?" Valerie asks. If it were her, and she had a choice in the matter, she would much rather be unconscious when the Shade shows itself.

Maddie glances over her shoulder toward the front door.

Outside, the setting sun paints the clouds in pink and orange hues, cool purple shadows cutting through the streaks of colour. It's a beautiful sight, the sky behind the clouds a gradient of darkening blue, turning gold in the distance. It's the kind of sunset Valerie admires from her hoverboard, flying high over the city. Dusk has always been her favourite time of day, and she takes in the rich, colourful sight with a content smile.

Maddie watches the sky with dread in her eyes. "Danny won't be sleeping now. It will start soon."

Danny's bedroom door groans as it opens. The sound, low and despondent, reminds Valerie of the oppressive aura she endured earlier. Logically, she knows the door's whine is born from poorly oiled hinges, but she can't shake the notion that the house itself is moaning in anguish, grieving for Danny and his haunting.

Danny lingers beyond the doorway, in the shadows of his room, the hall's dim light barely touching his toes. With one hand, he grips the doorframe, his thumb stroking the stop in a gesture Valerie would almost call comforting, a sort of soothing caress. His lips move, barely, but he speaks too quietly to hear.

Valerie watches this and thinks it's the weirdest damn thing she's ever seen.

Danny's hand falls to his side. "My room's fine tonight. I need my computer." He retreats further into his room.

"You heard him," Jack say, smiling over his shoulder.

Jack goes up the stairs first, Maddie right after him, with Valerie trailing behind. When they reach Danny's room, Valerie raises her eyebrows at the setup. His desk is in the middle of the room, a foot of space on every side, while all other furniture is shoved back against the wall. Danny's already sitting down, legs crossed on his chair, a tumbler dotted with condensation sitting beside his keyboard and a bowl of trail mix resting in his lap.

Weirder still, the light is off, and his curtains are drawn, leaving the soft glow of his computer screen to be the only light source. Neither Maddie nor Jack seem to mind this, making no moves toward the light switch on the wall.

"Got everything you need?" Maddie sidles around Danny's desk and sets the box she's holding, identical to the one in Valerie's arms, down on the floor.

"Snack, smoothie, extra water bottle in the drawer. Textbook's are beside my chair. Pillow and blankets under the desk," Danny says.

Squinting, Valerie sees the aforementioned pile of bedding stuffed in front of his chair.

"Bathroom?" Jack asks as he dumps the extension cords on Danny's bed. He starts unravelling them with practiced ease, watching his son for an answer.

"Already went."

"Are you... are you staying there all night?" Valerie asks. The thought of being stuck in that chair all night has her pursing her lips. It reminds her far too much of high school, languishing for hours in cramped desks with hard, plastic chairs. She always hated high school.

Danny gives her a sidelong glance. The longer he stares, the more Valerie fidgets, and she does not fidget, ever. But Danny's eyes, which appeared dull and hollow before, seem to glow now. Not with vitality, but with an eerie, soulless light that disturbs Valerie so much she can't avert her eyes. She's shaking, and sweating, and it takes her far too long to identify this feeling: fear. Danny cuts the least impressive figure Valerie has ever seen in her life, but right now, she's afraid. Afraid that when he she turns her back, he will still be there. Still watching.

"Valerie, dear, you can set that down over here." Maddie's voice, casual, unknowing, compels Valerie to look away. Maddie crouches by the short side of Danny's desk—Valerie didn't notice her move—and taps the floor beside it.

Valerie jolts into action, eager for a distraction, and drops beside Maddie, holding out the black box. Maddie takes it, placing it on the carpet. For a few seconds, she fusses with it, prodding it, pushing it this way and that, until it sits exactly where she wants it.

"You might want to scoot back a little. The other post is already in position."

Valerie puts a good few inches between her and the 'post.' Apparently satisfied with Valerie's position, Maddie reaches out and bops the top of the box. Valerie recoils when the post bursts open. The sides unfurl, falling flat, and the top caves in, exposing a mass of wires and antennas. Something whirs. A spool at the bottom of the device starts spinning, and a slender cable of dotted lights shoots out. It curves around the back of the desk, stretching out of Valerie's line of sight.

Movement to her right gains her attention, and she sees a second cable of lights unwinding around Danny's chair. The new cable hits the post just as the spool stops spinning, locking into a plug at the end of the first cable. Three sharp beeps ring out.

"Looks good!" Maddie claps her hands. "Jack, can you plug it in?"

"Already on it." Jack plugs one end of his extension cord into the post in front of Maddie and Valerie, takes the other end, and rushes out of the room. The extension cord whips after him, snaking off of Danny's bed and out the door.

Valerie eyes the device dubiously. Maddie called it a fence, but it doesn't look very fence-like to her. Looking at it, it's hard to imagine it stopping anything, much less a Shade. But Valerie knows better than to underestimate the Fentons, and she might as well use this opportunity to learn from her ghost hunting heroes.

"What does this do?" she asks.

"Do you know what GZF is?" Maddie asks.

Valerie's heard of it, tried to read a few articles about it, but overall knows very little. "Vaguely."

"It stands for Ghost Zone Frequency. Think of the electromagnetic spectrum, spanning everything from radio waves, to the visible and invisible spectrum, to gamma rays. The Ghost Zone, which exists on a different plane from us, has its own equivalent spectrum we call GZF. It has its own spectrum because, so far, it can't be properly sensed by human instruments or human eyes," Maddie explains.

"But we can see ectoplasm. And we can see ghosts," Valerie points out.

"You see what you want to see," Danny says.

Valerie nearly flinches, and she hates herself for it. She hates Danny for it. It's not fair that he can drag such a visceral reaction from her just by talking. Even less fair is the fact that she doesn't understand why he sets her on edge so much. At least he isn't looking at her now, instead concentrating on his computer screen.

"What does that mean?" Valerie asks.

"It's pretty straight forward. Your brain can't see it, so it fills in the blanks with what it thinks should be there." Danny's eyes flit away from the screen for a moment, glancing over her before going back. "You ever read anything Lovecraft?"

"Maybe in high school."

"Well, he does this thing when he writes—he describes something as indescribable. And our measly little human brains try to understand what that indescribable thing is, but it can't, because it's indescribable to us. Ghost stuff is like that. But, unlike Lovecraft's monsters, ghosts aren't monsters from another dimension; they're the flipside of our reality. Because of that, our brains are able to perceive ghosts without seeing or hearing them. And since they know something is there, they fill in the blanks. Otherwise, we'd all be twitching balls of anxiety that constantly feel like we're missing something glaringly obvious."

Danny twists, draping his arm over the back of his chair, and regards Valerie with a fervent stare. "Got it?"

Valerie refuses to look away this time. "Sort of."

"Good enough for me." As Danny turns back to the computer, he twitches. A glower takes over his face. He rolls his shoulder, as if brushing off an unwanted touch. Ever so subtly, he lifts the hand opposite from Maddie and Valerie, cupping it over his ear.

"Danny?" Valerie reaches toward him.

"Shut up. I'm fine. Shut up!" He hurls his last words at the empty space to his right, bearing his teeth.

Valerie marvels at the open air. She can’t see a trace of the Shade, not even a faint shadow. But Danny’s eyes glide across the room, unmistakably tracking something as it moves around them. The hairs on her arm raise as Danny’s gaze roves over her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have blamed it on a chill in the air.

"Remember, sweetie. Don't respond to it." Maddie's voice is calm and even, as though she's said this line a hundred times before. She probably has.

Danny nods, a sharp, jerky movement, and hunches over. Valerie notices his jaw clenching and his toes curling. Despite how pained he appears, his eyes grow brighter still. Maybe Danny is a lot stronger than he looks. How very Fenton of him, to cast Valerie's expectations aside like that.

Jack's voice, a faint boom, drifts through the open door. "Plugging in!"

The cable lights flare to life. Narrow green beacons curve upward, converging over Danny's head He visibly relaxes, some of the tension bleeding out of him.

Valerie stretches her hand out, watching Maddie for any sign she should stop. When she gets none, she holds her hand over the beacons. The lights remain uninterrupted even though she blocks three of them with her palm.

"How does this stop a Shade?" she asks.

Maddie's eyes widen. "Oh, that's right! I never finished answering your question. Through our research, Jack and I discovered Shades exist in a thirty point range on the GZF spectrum. This is a rudimentary blockade design for small quarters. The cables are identical, one beacon for each of the thirty points in the Shade range. They're aimed straight up, but the identical points are attracted to each other, making them curve like so.

"The completed arcs generate an energy signature that stretches out four feet from the point of convergence, although it gets weaker around the edges. All thirty arcs together create a dense space that makes it hard for Shades to move within this area."

Valerie's brain buzzes as Maddie keeps talking. This is rudimentary? There's nothing rudimentary about it.

"But it needs such a narrow field that we can't make the shield any wider. And it isn't perfect. A strong enough Shade could break through it, but thankfully the one haunting Danny doesn't appear to be one of them," Maddie finishes.

Valerie's mouth drops open, but she can't think of a response, instead staring dumbly at the fence.

"Mom, I think you broke her," Danny says, grinning smugly.

"Oh, not again."

Valerie's mouth snaps shut with a clack. She shoots Danny a withering glare, then turns to Maddie. "I'm fine. It's just a lot to process. Guns are more my expertise."

"Danny could teach you a few things while you're here. He likes to pretend he doesn't care about science, but we all know he does." Maddie winks.

"Space science! It's different from ghost science," Danny declares.

Maddie hides her mouth with her hand and whispers loudly, "He loves both."

Danny grumbles under his breath. "I'll show you loving science."

Valerie rolls her eyes and shares a smile with Maddie, both of them laughing quietly at Danny's expense. He stubbornly ignores them, typing away on his computer, but there's a smile on his pale lips.

Valerie prefers Danny like this, smiling and joking. It reminds her that they were supposed to be classmates. If his accident never happened, if he never got his disease, if he wasn't homeschooled, they might have been friends. She doesn't remember meeting him way back during freshman orientation, but now she wishes she did. Their first interaction might have gone better that way. But it's too late for that now.

She wonders which one is the real Danny. The sardonic punster with a bitter glare. The eerie wraith that chills Valerie to her core. Or the happy boy before her now whose grin lights up his face, momentarily gracing him with the warm glow of life his illness and haunting has stolen from him. Maybe they're all him. Humans aren't so simple that she can reduce a person to a few key words and say that's all they are. Taking everything you see at face value is a habit Valerie abhors.

But that only means she can't trust any face Danny puts on, no matter how genuine it appears. He can be all of them and none them. In the end, she doesn't care. She's just here to do her job.

#thdf #danny phantom #phanfic #phicc #danny phantom fanfiction #valerie gray #bodygyard au #hurt/comfort #supernatural

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loulougoingsolo · 5 years ago

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Protein, prunes and powerful puns

I can’t say I know much about protein bars, other than that they usually are lacking in the flavour region, and most of them have a really unpleasant floury (is that a word?) texture. Then again, I’m not a bodybuilder. I’m a blob.

Anyways, “Will It Protein Bar?” is the question we are asking today, and with the help of the swollest of all Mythical people, Josh, Rhett and Link are giving us the answers we didn’t know we needed. I can safely say, whatever health-related New Year’s resolutions I may have had, they’ve all been broken by now, so maybe this is something for me. We’ll see!

First of all, can I say, the packagings on today’s episode, and previous ones as well, is perfection. Not that I’ve ever had a Pop Tart in my hands, but the way the Squat Tart is wrapped is on a commercial level. Maybe, in a few years from now, Mythical is known for their protein bars? I can easily imagine a Pop Tart type of protein product to be a thing. Maybe make it a little thinner though (by reducing the sugar content, perhaps?) But it’s a pretty bar.

Ok, in the second round, once again, the packaging is superb. Not only is it exactly like all Ikea packages, and the label could fool even the most pro Ikea fans, but they went through the trouble of changing the place of origin to say “Made in Burbank”, and write Ikea of Sweeden (intentional typo, I assume) - Mythical of USA on it. And since all the Skarsgård men are more or less muscular, the name of the product is also on point. (Fun fact: the bar code leads to nowhere, and the product number is not in use at Ikea.)

When it comes to the content of the box, I think Josh may have Americanized the crisp bread a little. Knäckebröd (Swedish for crisp bread), or as we call it here in Finland, näkkileipä, happens to be a very tasty, crispy and thin type of bread, almost like a cracker, but better. Very addictive, too. But since Josh knows how to correctly pronounce Skarsgård, and his console/conswoll pun was funny enough to collapse Link’s construction, I’m going to forgive him. Also, that log of crisp bread probably had a lot more protein than the regular type.

Rhett trying to put his ikea bar together was pretty similar to my experience of my dad with Ikea furniture. Only, most of the times, my dad doesn’t even try anymore, he just asks me to assemble them. Assembling Ikea furniture is one of my favourite things in life.

I honestly thought Rhett’s brain (or mine really) glitched, when he said Buca di Beppo. Somehow my brain couldn’t form what he was saying. Now, if that monster of a protein bar has 560 g of protein in it, and the daily need for protein per body builder is 30 g, then that family size log would be enough for 18 people. The strawberry gelato drizzle sounds nice, though.

The next round, deodorant protein bar...I’m just gonna leave this here, and move on:

The last round was spleendidly horrifying. For some reason I don’t quite know, I had to google what spleen actually does in a body, as if Rhett saying it filters blood, and seeing the ProSpleen bar wasn’t all the information I needed. Reading the spleen wiki didn’t make watching this segment any easier. And yet, I have an unexplainable craving for chocolate cake.

Now, not that I’m saying the spleen bar went down surprisingly easily for both Link, and Rhett, but I can’t help but wonder just how much of the chewing and swallowing process was edited out. I don’t mind really, but I still wonder. But what I was really wondering while watching the squat and swallow (that does not sound right) procedure, was that this makes for a very strange workout video.

I don’t really like foods that are blended until you can’t tell what they contain, and protein shakes are, in my books, an awful concept. I am happy to see the guys get to drink something a little more palatable after the Will it... in More, but I’m really glad I don’t have to be there to share their smoothies. I don’t really get the desire to have more muscles than you need to function, and I really think only people who actually benefit from that much extra protein are those who are malnourished.

Anyway, my favourite part about More was Link trying to arrange the three glasses in a pleasing manner, with even gaps. One of the glasses is smaller than the other two, and it must have bugged him just as much as it bugged me.

#gmm #rhett and link #gmmore #gmm 1670 #will it protein bar?

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maxwellshippo · 5 years ago

Text

Raleigh x MC, Halloween

(Male) Raleigh x MC (Beck James) / Platinum

Description: Raleigh tags along with Beck for a Halloween party on the outskirts to the city. Party games ensue and Beck finds herself tipsy with no way to get home. Raleigh graciously offers her a ride back to her apartment. Slightly NSFW

Word Count: 3676

A/N: This is my first attempt at PB Fanfiction. Let me know how it is. I’ve been obsessed with Raleigh x MC and had to write something. I’m very nervous, I hope I did MC and Raleigh justice.

Life had been moving fast for Beck. Like, crazy fast. She won the competition, began a new life in New York City, started working on her album and even filmed her first music video. After a long day in the studio, she found Shane waiting for her outside with two cups in hand. Beck grimaced at the sight of the plastic cup he handed to her.

“A peanut-butter smoothie?” She deadpanned.

“A peanut-butter protein shake.” Shane grinned proudly, sipping on a strawberry-banana.“I thought it’d be funny to remind you of your roots.”

She sipped her drink. “Can’t deny it’s delicious...but now I’ll have to hide the cup from Hank. It’s his favorite.”

“Are you still up for tonight?” Shane leaned against the wall as they waited for Hank to pick her up. Truthfully, Beck couldn’t remember what he was talking about. Shane stared daggers into her until Beck’s jaw fell with realization, mouthing a ‘oh’ as she nodded. “Yes, the Halloween party. I don’t know, Shane. I had a long day and I don’t have a costume.”

“Beck, it’s Halloween! It’s your favorite holiday.” Shane opened his arms to display New York City, doing a 360 spin to emphasize his point. Beck looked around, noticing the orange-rusted leaves that fell from the trees and children that ran by, giggling in their witch and ghost costumes. “There’s gotta be something open.”

“What’s gotta be open?” A deep, husky voice asked over her shoulder. Beck jumped, startled at the voice. She pulled the smoothie out of her mouth, trying not to wince at the aching pain of the straw hitting the roof of her mouth. She turned, seeing Raleigh exiting the studio, guitar slung over his shoulder. “A costume shop.”

Raleigh raised a brow. Her nerves caused her to keep talking. “For me. So I can wear...a costume.”

Raleigh smirked, crossing his arms as he waited to see how long she would go on. “Because it’s Halloween...and people usually wear costumes...on Halloween.”

“Nice work, detective. I would have never put that together.” Raleigh applauded. “Why don’t you put on a pair of cat ears and call it a night?”

“Because I’m more creative than that!” Beck groaned, crossing her arms to her chest. “You can wear the banana suit you used to wear to work.” Shane suggested, purposely trying to embarrass Beck in front of Raleigh.

Raleigh chuckled. “Tell me there’s pictures.”

“Oh you bet.” Shane nodded.

“You two are the worst.” Beck stepped away when Hank pulled up. “I’ll meet you at the party tonight, Shane. Text me the details.”

Shane nodded and waved goodbye, heading off to his next destination. Beck grabbed the handle of the limo’s door until Raleigh stopped her, leaning on the window and shutting the door back closed. “What kind of girlfriend doesn’t invite their boyfriend to a party?”

There it was again. His annoyingly smooth voice that was always dripping with sarcasm. Beck turned to Raleigh, surprised. “I’d think you had cooler things to do on Halloween than go to some frat party.”

“I do. My publicist sent me the details and everything. I’d rather go to the one you’re going to.” He smirked.

“Really?” Beck tried to hide her surprise, if not her nerves. “Then come. I’ll text you the details when I get them.”

“Sounds great. Are you gonna go as a sexy nurse, or what?” He teased. Beck rolled her eyes, hitting him playfully in the chest. “You wish.”

“Do I?” His eyes lingered on her. “Or, oh, you can go as a sexy cop and arrest me.”

Beck rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should go as a mime so you can stop talking.”

“Ha-ha.” Raleigh leaned off. “See you tonight, Princess.”

“See you.” Beck swallowed the lump that had been in her throat as she watched Raleigh walk off. That man made her heart do jumping jacks. She was determined to play it cool and not let Raleigh know about her real feelings for him. As far as she knew, he was happy to play the game of pretending it was a fake relationship. She didn’t want to let herself get hurt...no matter how gorgeous his eyes were, or how good of a kisser he was, or how damn funny he was.

Beck fought through the masses at a costume shop was open and managed to get her hands on one of the few items left. A pair of angel wings, a halo and a skimpy white dress. When she got home and tried it on, she did a few takes in the mirror. “Raleigh will love this.” She thought with an eye-roll, thinking about how he wanted to see her in something sexy earlier. Then, Beck realized, maybe she wanted Raleigh to find her irresistibly sexy tonight. Let him pick his jaw up off the floor from drooling for a change. She was sick of being the one always caught staring.

Beck pulled the dress down and tighter in all the right places, gave her hair a last tousle and snapped a pic, sending it to Fiona.

Beck sighed at the thought and shoved her phone in her bag. It was time to go. An hour later, Hank took her to the party. She arrived at a grand mansion, just outside the city. There were limos and cars lined up. “Beck!” Shane jogged over, wearing a cape and a set of fake vampire teeth. “This party is insane!”

Beck’s eyes widened. “Shane, you told me this would be small!”

Shane shrugged. “Somehow it got out that you and Raleigh were going to be here tonight. The venue got changed to this address.”

“Fiona.” She grumbled as her phone buzzed. She received a text from the devil herself that read: ‘Make sure U and Raleigh are seen on Pictagram tonight.’

Raleigh arrived a few moments later, wearing a pair of devil horns and a black suit. He looked Beck up and down and smiled. “I didn’t know we were at the couples costume stage so soon.”

“How did you know?” Beck’s jaw fell, staring at Raleigh in shock. Damn he looked good...and damn was his costume fitting. He was always the devil on her shoulder, whispering ‘look at me, don’t you want to kiss me?’

“Fiona.” Raleigh and Beck said in unison. Shane laughed. “Hey, let’s get inside, yeah? I heard it’s crazy in there.”

Beck and Raleigh agreed and the three of them headed in. At the entrance, a line of paparazzi was posted, snapping Beck and Raleigh’s photo. In their presence, he slipped an arm dangerously low around her waist. He leaned in close to her ear to whisper, his breath hot on her neck. “You do clean up nice, Princess.”

Beck snorted at him, knowing she looked better than nice. She slipped his arm off her waist, strutting ahead of him to show off the view of her dangerously short dress in the back. She posed for the cameras, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she gave a flirty look to Raleigh. “Are you gonna buy me a drink, or what?”

Raleigh smirked and followed her inside and to the bar. “One whiskey and...something fruity for the lady.” He said over the loud music. Beck leaned on the counter, patiently waiting for her drink. “You’re something else, you know that?” He told her. Beck raised a brow with a smirk. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The bartender slid their drinks over. Beck got to sipping hers and Raleigh held his glass, stirring the whiskey around as he pondered. “You’re just different from most people in this industry, I guess.”

“Is that a good thing?” She asked, noticing a crack in Raleigh’s wall as he began to show emotion other than his sarcastic defense mechanism. Raleigh shook his head, his walls coming back up. “You’re just new...that’s all.”

“Hey, just because I’m new to this doesn’t mean I’m going to become some kind of fake person.” Beck glared. “I’ve been staying true to myself...I’m not Jaylen.”

“This industry will demand you to be something you’re not, no matter how hard you fight against it.” Raleigh frowned. “And you’re wrong...our whole ‘fake’ relationship is to boost your career.”

Beck’s heart fell, nerves washing over her. This was a test, wasn’t it? This was the moment to declare that she had feelings for Raleigh before the fake relationship. But what if he didn’t feel that way? He never brought up their flirting before, or how they kissed backstage. “It’s not fake.” The words came out like vomit. Beck’s eyes widened when she realized what she had said. Even Raleigh looked surprised. “Oh?” He asked.

“I mean...our friendship is real. I do consider you a friend, Raleigh, but I don’t feel like you look at me as anything other than work.” Beck frowned. “A contestant on your show, a newbie star who’s career you need to boost up, a charity case who needs a new guitar…”

“Beck,” Raleigh began, torn between comforting her and letting his guard down. Shane popped in over Beck’s shoulder. “THEY’REABOUTTOPLAYTHEMONSTERMASH!”

“OHMYGOD!” Beck joined in his excitement, placing her drink down on the bar as they ran over to the dance floor. Raleigh leaned on the counter, drinking his whiskey as he watched Beck and Shane perform the dance routine from Pulp Fiction to the Monster Mash. He couldn’t help but crack a quick smile as he watched her run around the dance floor like an absolute dork.

The next song, Shane and Beck pulled Raleigh onto the dance floor. He downed his drink before following them, immediately getting into the beat. Shane danced with the two of them in a circle for a few beats until he slowly excused himself, leaving Raleigh and Beck to it. “I see you remember our dance lessons.” He watched as she swayed her hips to the beat, sexily throwing her hair over her shoulders and doing a body roll. He grabbed her hand, his fingertips interlaced with hers and they danced in perfect unison to the song. Beck moved moved her hips with his until moving in front of him, grinding against him as she slid up and down. When the song ended, Raleigh was breathless with a cheesy grin stuck on his face. Beck pushed hair out of her eyes and couldn’t help but to laugh.

The night continued on and the drinks continued to pour. Beck found herself graciously tipsy at a game of two truths and a lie.

“Okay, here I go:” Shane burped drunkenly before going on. “One...I actually wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. Two...I owned a pet lion. Three...There was a year when I only ate macaroni and cheese.”

“YOU NEVER OWNED A LION!” Beck declared loudly. “Yes!” Shane cheered.

“You have an unfair advantage there, Becks.” Raleigh pointed out, leaning on his arm as they were all sitting in a circle on the floor. He felt so silly, so young, so normal at a college party and yet, it was one of the best times he had in a while. “It’s Beck’s turn.” Shane pointed to her.

Beck pondered carefully. “Okay. One...I’ve never been in love. Two...I used to wear a banana suit for work,” She gave a serious side eye to Raleigh and Shane. “Three...I can’t swim.”

“You’ve never been in love. That’s the lie.” Raleigh guessed. “Wronggg.” Beck smiled, alcohol obvious on her breath. “I can’t swim. That’s the lie.”

“I knew that!” Shane cheered himself on. Beck high-fived him. “Wait, wait wait. You mean a total sap like you has never been in love?”

Beck shook her head, giving a shrug. “No...it sounds silly, but I’ve always been waiting for ‘the one’.”

“You’re such a cornball.” Raleigh grinned. When it was time to go home, Beck stumbled out, arm in arm with Raleigh. “Where’s your driver?” Raleigh asked. “Hank? Oh...I told him to,” Hiccup. “Go home. He deserved the night off.”

“How were you planning on getting home, Princess?” Raleigh looked down at her, who somehow managed to look adorable while being wasted. “I figured...Shane would,” Hiccup. “Get me home.”

Raleigh looked around. Shane was chatting up a pretty girl. “Your friend’s preoccupied, Becks.”

“Ohh!” Beck groaned, standing straight on her own as she pressed to fingers to her temples stressfully. “I’ll just hail a cab, then. This is New York, right? I’ll just stand on the sidewalk and whistle!”

She stumbled over, clumsily so, in her high heels to the sidewalk and whistled with her fingers. “CABBBBB!”

He pulled her arm down to stop waving. “This isn’t Manhattan, darling. We’re forty miles out of the city. I’ll take you home.” He led her to his car. At the sight of his long, sleek, black sports car, Beck’s jaw fell. “Raleigh...I can’t sit in anything remotely this nice.”

“You’re kidding?” He asked as he opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

He helped her in, strapping her into the seatbelt and shut the door lightly. He got in the drivers seat and drove to her house. “I don’t think you understand...it took me three years of working at the smoothie shop to save up enough to buy a ‘99 Kia.”

Raleigh smirked. “You’re sure moving up in the world, banana girl.”

“Hey!” Beck whined. Twenty minutes into the car ride, Beck started to talk. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Did you?” Raleigh turned the question around. Beck nodded, a cheesy grin on her face. She reached her hand over, resting it on his arm that laid on the middle armrest between them. “I always have fun when I’m with you.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “Stoppppp.” Beck pulled her hand back. “It’s impossible to give you a compliment. It goes straight to your head.”

Raleigh let out a small laugh. “So were you lying back there?”

“Hm?” Beck asked.

“You’ve really never been in love?”

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” Beck asked.

“You’re such a goody-two shoes...believer in love, helper of little old ladies crossing the road. Hell, hirds probably even land on your shoulders when you sing.” Raleigh said.

“That’s why I’m waiting for the right person.” Beck said. “I have so much love to give and...I don’t want to give my heart away to just anyone.”

Raleigh nodded understandingly. It wasn’t long before he found an opportunity to make fun of her. “So that time we kissed back stage...I didn’t steal your first kiss virginity, did I?”

“No!” Beck said, appalled. She could feel her cheeks burning red. “Good.” Raleigh nodded, pretending a relief washed over him. “How about your real...you know?”

“Virginity?” Beck hit his shoulder lightly. “You’re no gentleman, you know that?”

“Never said I was.” Raleigh grinned. Beck crossed her arms, turning away from him, upset.

“Come on, we have a long car ride and we need something to talk about.” Raleigh insisted. “I’m not a virgin.” Beck whispered quietly, embarrassed as if her parents could hear.

“Come again?” Raleigh put his hand to his ear teasingly.

“I’ve slept with people before, okay?!” Beck rolled her eyes, annoyed. “I’ve never been in love, but I’m not a prude!”

Raleigh laughed genuinely. “What about all that mumbo jumbo about waiting for the one?”

“Sex feels good...it’s fun. But I’ve never experienced it with someone special.” Beck shrugged, giving him a side-glance to gauge his reaction. It would have been a lot less embarrassing if he wasn’t so handsome. How did someone look that hot when they drive? It was beyond Beck, and she’d never know the answer. The drive home was filled with more of Raleigh making fun of Beck until she got annoyed and turned on the radio to drown out his talking. It still didn’t work.

Raleigh pulled up to Beck’s apartment. “Here’s your stop, Princess.” He got out of the car and rushed to her door, opening it for her. Beck raised her eyebrows in surprise, still a little tipsy as he helped her out. “Who knew you were such a gentlemen?”

He held her hand, letting her balance on him as he shut the car door. “Wanna know another surprise?”

“Hm?” Beck couldn’t help but to smile as Raleigh kept her amused. “I’m going to walk you to your door, too.”

“Shut up.” Beck said jokingly. “It’s true.” Raleigh nodded as they headed to her door. “I’ll have to inform the press that their bad boy isn’t such a rebel after all.” Beck said as they stopped in front of her door. “My sales will plummet.” Raleigh pouted jokingly.

“Well, this is me.” Beck said after a beat of silence, motioning to her door. “I know.” Raleigh said, looking in her eyes. Beck nervously glanced down at her feet, then back up at him. God, she felt like she was in sixteen candles, or one of those cheesy 80’s movies. How typical was her life now? She was the goody-two-shoes, standing at her door with the perfectly handsome bad boy. She had alot of fun with Raleigh tonight, and as her hand gripped on the doorknob and she was ready to say goodbye, she realized that maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.

“Raleigh?”

“Hm?”

She let go of the doorknob and pressed her hands to his cheeks, lunging forward for a kiss. Her lips pressed against his, hard and desperate. Raleigh’s hands gripped her waist, kissing her back hungrily. They made out on her doorstep until finally, Beck pulled away and grabbed the doorknob again. “Come in?”

The door opened with great haste and once it closed behind them, the keys were tossed onto a side table with terrible aim and they lunged for each other’s lips again. Beck’s fingers were laced into Raleigh’s hair as he kissed her so hard, her mouth parted, slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands wandered down her back, pulling her hips, her body, her chest as close to him as possible. Beck pushed him onto the couch, straddling him with her legs over his hips, his arousal pressing against her.

“Beck.” Raleigh said breathlessly, his eyes devouring her hungrily. “I want you.” Beck declared, tossing off her costume props and his as well. In between kisses, she tugged at his jacket, insisting he pull it off. He quickly pulled it off and she unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it aside to reveal perfect abs.

“God, can you be anymore hot?” She accidentally said out loud, causing a belly-laugh from Raleigh. Her eyes widened in horror, until she stopped his laughs with a kiss. “Shut up, I’m trying to be sexy.”

“You already are.” His voice was almost a low growl, his eyes hot on her as she kissed down his neck and down to his chest. He let out hot, heavy breathes as her lips traveled down his abs and past his belly button and over to his belly button. “Beck.” He said hungrily as her lips hovered over his arousal, planting a soft kiss their, her breath hot through his jeans. As she undid his belt buckle, he stopped her hands. He flipped her over to lay down on the couch. He hiked her dress up past her belly button, pressing soft kisses on her breast over her dress and down to her bare skin. Beck whimpered in desire as he pressed his lips to her inner thigh, dangerously close to her panties. He paused at her delicate spot, looking up at her past her legs and into her eyes. Beck continued to whimper, begging him with her eyes to continue. He kissed her through the fabric of her panties, feeling her warmth and knowing she was already wet for him. He kissed her softly a few more times, teeth nipping at the lace fabric.

“Raleigh.” Beck said breathlessly. “Please.”

He moved up from her legs and used an arm to support himself over her, his eyes staring deep into hers and lips dangerously close. “Please what?”

Beck didn’t say anything, only letting out a low moan and bucking her hips against his, both of them hot against each other. Raleigh lowered himself into her ear. “Say it.”

Beck ran her fingers through his hair. “I want you, please.”

“Oh, you want me make you cum?” Raleigh asked as he pressed his fingers against the fabric of her panties, feeling for her soft spot. “Mmhm.” Beck nodded, bucking into his touch. She was desperate. Raleigh smiled, leaning forward and kissing her. “Not yet.”

Beck’s jaw fell. “What?”

“I want it to be special for you.” He got off of her, buttoning up his shirt. “You’re drunk. I won’t take advantage of you.”

“But Raleigh-” Beck was desperate, scrambling over to him as she pressed her hands to his chest. “I want you now.”

Raleigh cupped her cheek and kissed her long and hard, pulling away at the right time to leave her wanting more. “That’s all you’re going to get...for now.”

#playchoices #platinum #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera

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