#Routine Espresso Recordings

[orellazalonia]

A Place They Call Home

Summary: You, a regular person with no powers, become a quiet, comforting presence in Steve’s and Bucky’s lives. They slowly form a deep, romantic bond with you built on quiet moments, mutual care, and unspoken understanding. (Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 700+

Main Masterlist

You weren’t part of their world, not really. Not in the way most people defined it. No powers, no enhanced serum in your blood, no combat training etched into your muscles. You didn’t fly, or punch through walls, or wear a suit of armor. But somehow, you’d become just as necessary as any shield or weapon.

You met Steve first years ago, back when everything still felt a little raw after one of his missions. You were a barista then, tucked into a cozy corner café just off one of the quieter streets of the city. He came in looking like the ghost of a time long gone, polite to a fault, his smile more habit than warmth. You served him chamomile the first time he walked in and a honeyed espresso the second. By the third visit, he remembered your name. By the fifth, he asked if he could sit near the back, away from the windows. He said it was for the quiet. You didn’t press.

Then came Bucky.

Rough edges and distant eyes. The first time he walked into the café, Steve stood up instinctively like a soldier ready to meet a comrade in arms. You noticed the way Bucky’s eyes flicked over every exit, every reflective surface. The way his hands, always gloved, never truly relaxed. You didn’t say much that day, just placed his coffee on the table with a gentle, “No charge. First one’s always free.” You caught the twitch of his lips. Almost a smile. Almost.

They started coming together after that. Sometimes they’d stay until closing, long after the last customer left, helping you clean tables or fix the flickering light in the storeroom. You never asked them for anything. Maybe that was why they kept coming back.

You didn’t mean to become their safe place.

It started in little moments. Steve would bring you books he thought you’d like. Bucky would fix your broken sink without asking. You’d find yourself cooking too much food and pretending you hadn’t expected them to show up. When the nights grew long and cold, they stayed longer. When the world felt too loud, too harsh, too damn fast, they found themselves in your apartment above the café, Bucky curled into the corner of your couch like he was hiding from the world, Steve softly reading aloud from whatever book he could find on your shelves. You never minded.

You became a routine. A quiet rhythm. The world outside buzzed with chaos, but here, in your apartment lit by mismatched lamps and warmed by the scent of cinnamon and dust, everything stilled. There were nights when neither of them said a word, and yet none of you wanted to leave. Just the soft click of a record player, your hand brushing against Steve’s when you passed him a cup of tea, the way Bucky’s posture would finally relax when he fell asleep on the couch.

You didn’t know when it changed.

Maybe it was the night you found Bucky asleep in your bed, not because he’d planned to be there, but because you’d offered, gently, when he couldn’t stop shaking. Maybe it was the way Steve held your hand after you fell asleep watching an old film, fingers laced like he’d been waiting a lifetime to touch you. Or maybe it was the morning you woke up wedged between both of them on your too-small couch, their heartbeats steady, anchoring you to something real and lasting.

One night, you found yourself dancing in the kitchen. No music, no occasion. Just soft light, leftover pasta cooling on the stove, and Steve’s hand in yours. Bucky leaned against the counter, watching with a fondness he didn’t bother to hide. When he stepped in to join, Steve only smiled, and you felt something shift in the air, like all three of you had silently agreed on something unspoken. Something fragile and deeply needed.

“I never thought peace would look like this,” Steve whispered, forehead resting against yours.

“I didn’t think I deserved it,” Bucky added, his voice quiet from behind you as his arm slid around your waist.

But he did. All three of you did.

And in that tiny kitchen, warm with heart and memory, you realized something simple but powerful: they didn’t come to you because they needed saving.

They came to you because, with you, they were already home.

[arimoonlight1]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐬~ 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞 ˣ 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐏𝐨𝐜!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐜:𝟏.𝟑𝐤

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐳𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞́, 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚 (𝐘𝐨𝐮!) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧— 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!: @𝐥𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐥𝐱𝐳𝐳𝐳

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 😔 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

You’d worked at The Blue Note for just over a year now—long enough to learn the regulars, memorize the creaky spot on the floor near the back table, and perfect your morning playlist rotation. The place was known for its velvet couches, jazz-stained walls, and blues that poured like warm molasses every Friday night.

And Sammie was part of that rhythm.

He’d first walked in one spring evening, guitar strapped over his shoulder, looking like he’d just stepped off a train from somewhere important. He wasn’t the loudest guy in the room. He didn’t demand attention. But somehow, the moment he walked in, the air shifted.

“Double espresso, no sugar,” he said every Friday, always with that same slow smile, like he was testing a joke only the two of you understood.

“You ever try anything else?” you asked him once, sliding the cup across with a teasing raise of your brow.

He leaned forward, his voice low. “Don’t fix what already keeps me up thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

You laughed it off, but your heart stuttered a little, like it had missed a step. He’d left the cup half-empty that night, but stayed later than usual, just strumming soft chords even after the set ended, eyes occasionally flicking up to where you were wiping down tables.

Weeks passed, and the flirting became routine—if a little shy. He’d linger longer, sit closer to the counter. Once, he brought you a record from a local shop, wrapped in brown paper.

“Thought you’d like this. Got a voice kinda like yours—smooth, but got bite.”

You turned it over, reading the label. “Mmm, Ella Washington. I’ll give it a spin.”

“She might not be better than you, though.”

You raised a brow. “You haven’t heard me sing.”

“I don’t need to. Heard you talk.”

That stuck with you for days.

One Friday night in August, you were elbow-deep in dishes when Sammie showed up earlier than usual. He walked in like the summer heat was chasing him and stopped just shy of the counter.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Got somethin’ new tonight. Thought I’d try it out.”

“Original?” you asked, drying your hands on a towel.

He gave a slow nod, brown eyes not quite meeting yours. “Yeah… Been sittin’ on it a while.”

“Well,” you said, leaning in, “I’ll be listening.”

The place filled up fast—folks packing in like it was church. The scent of coffee beans and cinnamon rolls wrapped around you like a shawl. Sammie stepped onto the stage just as the golden-hour light dipped behind the windows. He tuned his guitar, cleared his throat, then looked straight at you.

“This one’s about someone who makes the best coffee I ever had. But it’s not the coffee that keeps me comin’ back.”

Your breath caught, towel frozen mid-fold.

Then he played.

𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕,

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝑰 ��𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅,

𝑨 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆.

His voice was warm and a little frayed at the edges—like the last note of a long day. The whole café hushed. You could hear a spoon stir, a breath hitch. But mostly, you heard him. Really heard him.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝑰'𝒎 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚,

𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒆,

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚

𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒆.

You stood frozen behind the counter, the heat from the espresso machine rising behind you. Every line sank in, delicate and slow. You didn’t know where to look except at him, and he never looked away from you.

When the song ended, the room burst into applause—but Sammie didn’t seem to hear it. He stepped off stage, guitar still in hand, and walked straight to you.

“Well?” he asked, voice barely above the hum of the ceiling fan. “Too forward?”

You blinked, feeling warm. “I—no. It was… beautiful.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding it all night. “Been workin’ up the nerve to ask you out for months now. Kept waitin’ for the perfect moment, but turns out they don’t really come. So I made one.”

You smiled, heart pounding. “So this is you asking me out?”

He nodded, finally brave enough to hold your gaze. “Would’ve done it sooner, but you always look so busy. I figured you’d say no.”

“Then you don’t know me that well.”

He tilted his head, hopeful. “So that’s a yes?”

You tapped your fingers against the counter like you were playing a piano key. “Only if we split fries. And I get first pick on the jukebox.”

Sammie grinned, dimples deepening. “Deal.”

Later, at Melba’s Diner, the two of you slid into a cracked red booth under flickering neon lights. The place smelled like fried catfish and vanilla milkshake. You shared a plate of golden fries and laughed at how sticky the menu pages were.

“So,” Sammie asked, sipping sweet tea, “what’s your dream? Can’t imagine you wanna sling lattes forever.”

You smirked. “Actually, I want my own spot one day. Something cozy—vinyl records, poetry nights, live sets. Maybe call it Sugar & Sound.”

He whistled low. “That’s got a ring to it. Sounds like a place I’d wanna play.”

“You’d be on the rotation,” you said, popping a fry in your mouth. “But only if you write another song about me.”

He chuckled. “You keep makin’ me nervous behind that counter, and I’ll have a whole album before you know it.”

You tilted your head, watching him closely. “What about you? This always the plan?”

“Always,” he said, running a thumb along the rim of his glass. “But lately… I’ve been wantin’ more than just songs.”

The silence that followed was thick—but not uncomfortable. You let your hand drift over the table, and he met you halfway, fingers brushing. Soft. Easy.

The jukebox kicked into Otis Redding’s These Arms of Mine, scratchy and soulful. Sammie leaned back, watching you with the kind of look that could melt the ice in your cup.

“Guess I got lucky,” he murmured.

You smiled, letting your fingers stay tangled in his. “Yeah. I think we both did.”

[honeekyuu]

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

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

or

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

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: kyoutani/kiyoko was not the side pair i expected to fall in love with but here you go

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

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

The two months that follow the start of the relationship between you and Tsukishima Kei can only be characterized as ‘ change ’. 

You find your flow easily after that first week, the unspoken agreement made on the couch that night at the forefront of every interaction together. In order to make the relationship convincing, you both learn to play the part to the best of your abilities. You learn to lean into the expectations of the people watching you closely, playing into them and even surpassing them — because you can rely on your understanding of each other, the kind of familiarity that comes with 15 years of history. 

You already know his regimented morning routine, because you were tortured into keeping the same hours as him in high school. You know that the muscle patches he prefers for his back are different than the ones he prefers for his shoulders, because it’s always been you who applies those patches to the places he can’t reach. 

In the same way, Tsukki knows how you take your coffee — hot almond milk vanilla latte in the morning, always, followed by an iced oat milk mocha with two extra shots of espresso in the afternoon. He’d accidentally gotten you a hot mocha once and watched you wilt a little but drink it, anyway, and then he’d never done it again. He knows you prefer to study not in the library or at your department, but on the quad outside of some random administrative building, because you’d once called it the ‘perfect ratio of quiet, focus space and people-watching from afar’. 

So, when people swoon and scream online about how someone had seen you tearing down the aisles of the nearest convenience store at 5am after Tsukki had pulled a muscle while out for a run — your hands picking out his patches without needing to think about it — you’re awarded the ‘ Great Girlfriend ’ points without really having earned them. And when Tsukki’s spotted ordering your complicated afternoon mocha without struggling — even asking them to remake it, because he’d tasted it and could tell it was regular milk — before wandering knowingly off to some random patch of grass by the Student Records Building, your Twitter DMs nearly break with the amount of people asking how you ‘ trained him so well ’. 

What so few people realize, even though your long-time friendship is brought up so often in the media, is that you and Tsukki don’t do these things because you’re madly in love and have made the effort to learn the small, seemingly unimportant details about each other. You do them because they’re ingrained in your understanding of each other. You do them because there’s no alternative; Tsukki will only use Salonpas on his back, and you won’t drink anything with regular milk because it makes your stomach hurt. These are just the facts, but, for some reason, they seem to convince people that your relationship is real more than being seen on a date ever has. 

In fact, the things you are learning about each other and teaching each other about are the larger, romantic details that people always assume come first. You learn that Tsukki’s default pet name for you is ‘ princess ’, but that, when he’s being intentionally antagonistic, he has a habit of bending down to your height and plastering a mocking smile on his face while calling you ‘ sweetheart ’. He learns that you show affection by feeding him, his arms always full of tupperware when he leaves your apartment and two – two, not one – lunches shoved haphazardly in his gym bag when you know he’s going to have a long training day.

And, of course, there is a lot to learn about each other physically. You have to learn how to walk with his hand in your back pocket or on your waist, because that’s how he likes to walk you to class. And he has to learn that, unless it’s a peck hello or goodbye, you tend to start with a kiss to his cheek — because you get too shy to flat-out kiss him without some kind of warm-up.

You learn that you like his hands very much, but that you like when he keeps eye contact with you more than anything. It’s in the way he beckons you to him after a game or in the way he watches you walk from the door of a cafe all the way to the seat he’s reserved for you. That, coupled with the contrast of him being rough with his blocks at practice but careful about moving your hair out of your face, guarantees that you need several long minutes to recover after a moment with him. 

He learns that when you look up at him with those doe eyes he didn’t even know you had — he’s most familiar with your eyes when they’re mid-eye-roll — that it takes an absurd amount of self-control not to give you everything you want. And when you tie your hair up, especially on the hot afternoons sprinkled through the start of Fall, he has to tear his eyes away from the curve of your neck and physically sit on his hands to stop himself from touching the sliver of tummy that peeks out when your shirt lifts a little.

In private, of course, these things are never issues. In private, you are, for the most part, the same as you’ve always been: two friends who fight and laugh and keep an appropriate amount of distance between each other. Friends who get together on Friday nights to drink and watch bad TV. Friends who never need to think around each other, because that’s the best part about being friends.

It’s just that sometimes friends do need to keep things from each other – which is something you’re both still learning to deal with.

When you try on new outfits and ask for his opinion, his scan of your body is cursory because he knows not to let himself linger on how this dress sits on your hips or how that shirt makes your boobs look. He’s careful not to let you catch him staring at your thighs, on display when you wear those cursed little pajama shorts. And he’s quick to always take the corner of the couch instead of sitting beside you, even though he itches to snake an arm around your waist and pull your side flush to his.

When he sits at his dining table, telling you about practice while you cook dinner in his and Yamaguchi’s kitchen, your biggest challenge is keeping your eyes off of his bare chest and wet hair, his skin still dewy and warm after his shower. When you write papers while sitting on your tiny, Twin XL bed and he comes over from the couch to bother you, you’re tasked with keeping your breathing even and your eyes firmly on your laptop, because there’s never enough space between you and you worry what you might do if you look at him. And when he checks the time and mumbles that he can stay for one more episode of your show – even though it’s almost always past midnight when he does it – you know to hide your smile behind your hand, because it’s expected that you’ll sigh and say ‘ just one more ’ like a normal friend.

In private, friends don’t unknowingly seek out reasons to brush against each other, and they don’t subconsciously wear less clothes around each other, only to chalk it up to being comfortable around each other.

But you don’t need to know that. And he doesn’t need to know that. Because as long as you both know the rules for being in private – “hands to yourself” – then everything else can be kept hidden.

In public, however, things are quite a bit different. 

In public, you find yourself in a no-holds-barred relationship where nothing – nothing – is off limits.

In public, the boy who used to bring his collection of dinosaur figurines over to your house on the weekends is the same boy who now picks you up from class with a kiss and the promise of free ‘ girlfriend-discount’ coffee. The boy who wouldn’t share his crayons with you unless you promised your snacks to him – that’s the boy who shamelessly buys you a small wardrobe’s worth of Frogs merch with his name on it, tying your hair back with a neon green TK scrunchie and unironically presenting a set of green pajama shorts to you, his face printed on the left ass cheek.

The boy who’d sling mud into the hair of mean little girls who would put their hands on you.

That’s the boy who puts his hands on you now.

On the small of your back –  a self-assured touch that guides you through a sea of flashing lights and reporters waiting at the entrance to the Frogs’ home gym. Slung around your waist – fingers hooked loosely into the belt loop on your hip while he stands with you at your favorite cafe’s self-order kiosk, his card already out. Tickling the inside of your thigh – the pad of his thumb drawing circles in your skin while he drives, his other hand reaching to cup your face so he can press his lips gently to yours at red lights.

Hidden under your shirt – fingertips kneading at all the plushest parts of your skin while he kisses you stupid at the front of an empty lecture hall, the door cracked open just slightly. Because – while it’s an obvious conclusion that any form of physical intimacy at home should be strictly off limits – the corner classroom on the top floor of your department that you know is unused at 2pm every day just so happens to walk a very fine line between public and private.

Public enough that you might be caught – as long as he’s not getting into fights , as Management is fond of reminding the two of you – and public enough that you sincerely see no issue with letting your best friend shove his tongue down your throat. Private enough, however, that you’re able to speak candidly to each other, even with your legs wrapped around Tsukki’s waist and his fingertips brushing across the underwire of your lacy bra.

That’s where you find yourself now, on a chilly Tuesday afternoon in the last week of October, after weeks of meeting up here. Your weight is supported by the table at the front of the lecture hall, skirt hiked up a little too high and hands curled into his hair. He’s bent over you, lips burning a path of bruises along the column of your throat while his hips, slotted between yours, keep your legs open and your skirt pushed up.

“You look good today,” He murmurs against your skin, your quiet panting the only other sound in the room. One of his hands is pressed firmly against your back, keeping you close to him, and the other is gripping your thigh, much higher than he really should be. But you can’t seem to mind, even when you feel the blunt edge of his nails scratch briefly along the line of your panties.

That’s the change you still haven’t gotten totally used to – the shiver of anticipation that’s started to run down your spine when he gets too close, the flip of excitement just under your navel when your body presses against his.

After years of not caring even a little bit about who he would take home from a party – about the rumors that would float around campus, whispered by girls who’ve gotten into bed with him – you’re facing the reality that is being attracted to Tsukishima Kei.

“Which part?” You mumble back absentmindedly, tightening your hold in his hair when he bites down on the crook of your neck, his tongue soothing the pain right away.

“Dunno,” He says, gripping your thighs and dragging your hips minimally closer to his. “I just really like this.” He thumbs at your skirt in explanation. Your body responds when he chuckles low, goosebumps breaking out all over your skin. “Giving me something to think about tonight.”

“You’re doing it again, Tsukki,” You joke, laughily breathily. He’d started doing that in the last couple weeks – making little comments like that. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. “I didn’t know celibacy would hit you this hard.”

He sighs against your skin, shaking his head. “There you go again, not believing me.”

There’s an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to. But you know well enough that you’re not his type, so you’re not sure what could possibly going on with him if not an extreme case of blue-balls after two months without sex. Somehow, even after everything you’ve done together the last few weeks, it seems silly to think he might genuinely want you. Surely not.

“Well, you’re a flirt, so I can never tell with you,” You say, entirely honest but playing it off like a joke. He stops kissing your throat and leaves his lips against your pulse, breathing hard. 

“Name one time I’ve lied to you.”

You scratch your nails against his scalp. “It’s not that serious, Tsukki. I can take the joke.”

“Y/n-”

You laugh nervously into his shoulder, feeling him shift in annoyance. “What’s going on with you lately, huh?” Your insecurities peek through, and you’re stupid enough to act on them. “Should I let you off the leash for one night? To get it out of your system?”

It’s the wrong thing to say – even you know that.

His mouth leaves your skin before you realize what’s going on, one of his hands coming up to grip your face. You gasp, seeing that he’s glaring at you with those sharp, golden eyes.

“You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” 

You blink up at him, your chest heaving. You want to look away, because, while you’ve seen that scowl before, it’s never been like this. And you know he won’t let you look away. His fingertips only tighten on your cheeks when you try, and he uses his grip to force you to shake your head.

“No, you don’t,” He whispers mockingly. “You don’t know. You just love to say shit that’ll piss me off.”

You have no idea what’s going on right now. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen this side of him. His condescending tone is nothing new – mocking jokes and rude comments are not new. But the way he’s treating you now is not that, and the way you’re reacting to it is not that. There’s something else, and you want so badly to blame it on anything that isn’t this newfound physical attraction to Tsukishima Kei.

Because there is absolutely no reason that the way he’s speaking to you should turn you on. No reason at all.

“Apologize,” He whispers, eyes steady on yours.

You blink stupidly, too distracted by the wave of heat that crashes over you. He lifts your chin toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Apologize, Y/n. For insulting me.”

“Did I insult you?” You bite weakly, your voice shaky and your heart pounding in your ears. You’re still his best friend. You’re still the girl who’s never backed down from a challenge. “Then you apologize too, for joking about being attracted to me.”

His eyebrow twitches with irritation. “What?” He hisses, clearly holding back.

“‘s not nice to mess with me like that, Tsukishima,” You say, your confidence shrinking by the second. You can’t handle much more of this – the way he’s grabbing you, the way he’s glaring at you.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t place when you say his name. You’ve noticed that, too. That he reacts when you use his full name. You don’t know why, or if it’s even conscious.

He scowl twists into a sneer. “You know, you’ve been really fucking annoying recently.” His eyes light up when you gasp, and he leans down, releasing your face in favor of planting both hands on the desk behind you, caging you in. “Making all these little jokes. Downplaying the shit I say to you.”

“Well, you’ve been particularly horny recently,” You say, some of your sense coming back now that he doesn’t have a literal hold on you. “Gotta keep reminding you that it’s me you’re dealing with.” You brush some of his hair out of his face, your touch gentle. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“I thought I told you to get over that,” is all he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There’s still heat behind it, but he mostly just looks frustrated.

“It’s not that easy,” You whisper back, your nose brushing his. “Especially not with the whole world reminding me that I’m nothing like the girls before me.”

So maybe you’re still a little sensitive about the 16-tweet thread someone had made last week, comparing photos of you and photos of all of Tsukki’s exes and one-night stands. He’d gotten the account banned before you’d even looked through all of the tweets, but there are still 13 side-by-sides haunting you when you close your eyes.

“Of course you’re not like them,” He says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t remember half of their names.”

You give him a deadpan stare. “Charming.”

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I don’t have a type?” He still hovers over you, close enough that you see the honesty sitting in his eyes. “Yeah, I have a type. All those other girls look the same to me.”

And then he grabs at your thighs, fingers familiar on your skin. You squirm, but he holds tight. “But that doesn’t mean I’m forcing myself to put my hands on you.” He squeezes you, tugs at your skirt and threads his fingers through your hair. “Doesn’t mean I’m putting myself through hell to do this to you.” He tightens his grip and tilts your head to the side, and you realize he’s talking about the fresh hickies on your neck.

He lets you go, standing tall and towering over you. You crane your neck back to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to the hollow of your throat. Your heart jumps when he lifts a hand and rests it there, fingers flexing loosely around the front of your neck.

That’s new.

“You think I would drag you in here and lay you back on this desk every week if I thought you were ugly?” He whispers, eyes a little clouded as he looks you over. You, with your legs still spread and wrapped around his waist. With your chest heaving and your eyes blown wide, surprise written all over your face. With your throat in his hand and no indication that you wouldn’t want it there.

“God,” He laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re so stupid, Y/n. Two months and you still think like this.” When you only sigh shakily, unsure what to do with this conversation, he tightens his hold on your throat. His eyes are lit up like sunlight, warm but quick to burn if you make the wrong move. “Looks like I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

What?

“Tsukki-” “Y/n.” 

You both jump, turning to the door. Nariko is rushing into the room, but, when she sees the precarious position the two of you are in, she respectfully averts her eyes.

“Nariko,” You gasp, sitting up. Tsukki’s quick to pull your skirt down over your thighs and help you down.

“Time for our daily dose of Sendai Sports ,” He sighs, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry-I-” Nariko’s got her hand over her eyes, her camera hanging uselessly at her side. She very well could have snapped a photo of you two in that moment, but she’d chosen not to.

You’re infinitely glad it’s her that had walked in.

“The other reporters figured out that you didn’t stay at the cafe after your class. They’re on their way back here now.”

You’d walked across the street after class to get your iced coffee and study at a corner table, but you’d snuck out the back when Tsukki had texted you to meet him here. Your coffee sits, untouched and lukewarm, on a nearby desk. 

Nariko’s the only one who’d seen you re-enter the building, and that’s because she’d snuck out the back of the cafe with you, the woman a frequent companion over the months. She hadn’t asked any of the questions she’s probably paid to ask when you’d gone in the side door of your department, and she’d conveniently stopped to tie her shoes you’d said you needed to take care of something on the top floor and gotten on the elevator.

You collect your bag from the floor quickly, tossing the coffee away as you fix your appearance.

“Damn it.” You look to Tsukki, who seems less annoyed with Nariko now that she’s made it clear she’s here to help. “We have to go out the back.” And then you look at Nariko, having accepted long ago that this woman feels like an older sister. “Is my makeup okay?”

She looks you over, starting to nod, but then she spots the bruises on your neck. “Uhm…”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not happy about it, either.”

“ You were at the time ,” Tsukki mutters under his breath. You elbow him hard, and Nariko sniffs in order to cover her laugh. She still knows better than to get comfortable with him.

“You’re fine,” She says, glancing out the door. “But you should go now. They were coming in through the front just as I was getting to the elevator, and it’ll be obvious what you were doing if they find you. It’s better to be caught running and have the reason be implied – photos of your smeared makeup and wrinkled shirt will always look bad.”

“You said I looked fine!” You laugh, grabbing Tsukki’s hand and dragging him out the door. You’re both halfway down the hall to the far door, jogging hand in hand, when you hear the shutter of her camera. You turn back, finding her smiling playfully.

“I still have a job to do, you know!”

Your laughter echoes through the hall, and even Tsukki’s smothering a grin as you take the stairs to the fire exit. You rush with him across the quad, a few people spotting you and taking blurry pictures. You make it to his car in record time, your shared laughter growing when he drives by a group of reporters looking around the quad in confusion.

He drives you back to your apartment, the tension between you eased significantly. But it’s still there, lingering in your mind.

What had he meant when he said he would prove you wrong?

“Tsukki,” You say when he’s stopped at the red light near your apartment. “Earlier, when you said you would prove me wrong… What did you…” You trail off, wondering if you’re really ready to hear his answer.

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you think that maybe he’s not going to speak at all.

“There’s a party on Saturday night – after the game,” He says abruptly, and you have no clue what this has to do with anything. 

“Okay?”

“Wanna go?”

“Oh.” You blink. “Isn’t Saturday Halloween?”

“Conveniently enough.”

“Sure. Should-” You clear your throat, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. You’re not sure if things are the same with him after what had happened in the lecture hall, and you’re definitely not sure why he won’t answer your question. “Should we dress up?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Am I allowed to go as a player for the Sendai Frogs?”

“Oh, God,” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Way to be cliche.”

“Fine. You pick the costumes, and I’ll buy them.” He pulls into your lot, right up to the permanent group of reporters that just sit outside your apartment all day. The flashing lights start almost immediately, and he leans over the middle console, stopping you from getting out of the car.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, and you already know that the photos being taken are capturing the line of hickies on your throat. He smirks when you give him a knowing look, only leaning in and pushing his lips against yours.

When he leans away, his gaze falls to your throat. He takes in the skin there, his thumb brushing over the already-purple marks. And then he meets your eyes, that dominant look from earlier peeking through again. Your breath catches when you see it, but he only narrows his eyes when he sees you searching his face. His thumb taps twice against your throat.

“Don’t cover these up.”

You swallow, brows furrowed. “Why?”

He leans in, planting another quick kiss on your mouth. “How about you go look in a mirror? Might help.”

You suppose that’s as close to an answer as you’re going to get tonight.

–

You start to realize that maybe Tsukki hadn’t been fucking with you. 

When you stare into your bathroom mirror every morning for the rest of the week, fixing your hair and clothes and makeup but leaving the skin on your throat untouched, you start to enjoy seeing the bruises there. These little reminders that it had been him that had put them there, that he had done this to you of his own free will. It makes you wonder if maybe he feels the same way when he sees them on you. 

You get the feeling he does. His eyes flick to the purple bruises when he picks you up on Wednesday and every day after – the corner of his lips tug up, like he’s smug that the evidence is still there. Like he’s glad to show you off, those marks on your skin more of a claim on you than most forms of PDA.

The photos of you go a little viral for a few hours that first day, with the accompanying mix of supportive and hateful comments.

[2:33 PM] tsukkiyn4life : LOOK AT HER!!! I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE !!!!!!

[3:04 PM] keisolostan :  god shes such an attention whore lmao, concealer exists girlie

[3:25 PM] sendaiynfan : no bc him marking his girl up like that is so tsukki-coded. bbygirls so lucky

[4:17 PM] tsukkisgirl : the way i would just pretend she doesnt exist if i saw that fine ass man in the wild

[4:29 PM] frogsfan101 : she cant even make hickies look good, jesus. so trashy

You’ve learned that you’re not strong enough yet to ignore how those tweets make you feel, so you keep your notifications off for the week. Unfortunately, Tsukki handles haters a little differently – he’s using his new media presence to retweet hateful comments with even worse responses, things along the lines of ‘ you seem like one of those girls who jumpscares guys when she takes her makeup off’ and ‘ is one of your parents absent, by chance? just wondering’ . 

Management’s not in love with him using his platform like this – because he’s been doing it from the very beginning – but it turns out that Tsukishima Kei fans are eating this particular incident up, his popularity skyrocketing with every new instance of brutally defending his girlfriend online. Fan accounts create Twitter threads of every heinous thing he’s ever said, and you even see that one of his responses is trending by Thursday afternoon–

‘ maybe put down the thirst account dedicated to my hands and go touch grass – my hands are a little busy with yn anyway :))’

He’d attached a photo that he’d taken on Tuesday morning in his car. Your bare legs are in the frame, the hem of your skirt barely visible. His hand is wrapped around your thigh, fingers kneading at your skin. Your manicured hand – seen in other photos this week – rests on his wrist, making it clear that it is indeed you.

Tsukki had made it his wallpaper, the time stamped across your knee in that photo he’d attached to the tweet.

You sit at the edge of your bed your face in your hands. You can’t tell if you want to kiss him or kill him. Your phone buzzes with an incoming call, and you lift it to your ear without looking.

“If you’re not Shimizu Kiyoko, please hang up.”

“ You cheating on me? ”

Your eyes fly open. “You stupid fucker.”

Tsukki laughs on the other end. “ So, you’ve seen my tweet, then .”

“Are you kidding me? Why did you make that your wallpaper? Why did you post it?” You groan, throwing yourself back on your bed. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“ Which part? Because I’m personally a fan. ”

“Yeah, of course you are. It’s not your thighs all over the internet right now.”

“ Well… ”

You roll your eyes. You’d forgotten about all the thirst accounts – his hands, his thighs, his shoulders, his eyes. There’s even an account solely dedicated to every time his shirt rises a little bit during a game. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine. You win. What do you want?”

His laugh sends a little shiver down your spine. “ Have you decided what we’re wearing on Saturday? ”

“Shit,” You breathe. “I forgot.”

“ Let’s decide now, then. I’ll order overnight shipping .”

You roll over, the embarrassment of Tsukki’s tweet still heating your cheeks but otherwise pushed aside. You pull up different costume websites, searching through their options and describing them to him.

“We could be ketchup and mustard bottles.”

“ Was that a serious suggestion? ”

“How about Beauty and the Beast ?”

“ I want you to turn on Facetime and say that again with a straight face. ”

It goes on for the better half of an hour, Tsukki shooting down every choice. In his defense, though, you are suggesting absurd couples’ costumes.

“ For fuck’s sake, Y/n, pick something normal! ” He finally snaps, amusement lacing in his voice.

You laugh loudly into your pillow. “I can’t find anything! The only normal couples’ costumes are all super sexy.”

“ Okay, good! Finally, fuck. That’s normal! ” He sighs loudly through the receiver. “ What do they have? ”

You scroll carefully through the images of sexy pairings, trying to find the least humiliating thing.

“Wow, this is terrible.”

“ Use your words, sweetheart, ” He taunts, and you’re glad he can’t see how your face warms.

“Sexy nurse and doctor,” You start, hearing him hum in contemplation. “Cat and dog-”

“ Christ ,” He mutters. “ That one’s bad. ”

“Butler and maid,” You continue. “Teacher and schoolgirl– Ew -”

“ Wait, wait, go back ,” He interrupts. “ Butler and maid’s not bad .”

“Tsukki,” You laugh. “This skirt is so short that I can see the model’s ass cheeks.”

“ Send it to me. It can’t be that bad. ”

You text him the link, scrolling through other options while he opens the website.

“ Whoops, ” He says after a few minutes. Your heart stops, because you know that tone.

“What did you do?” You ask, groaning when he just laughs.

“ I accidentally bought it- ”

“Accident, my ass!”

“ Yes, definitely, ” He agrees. “ Definitely your ass – that much is true. ”

“Tsukki!” You complain. “You don’t even know my size!”

“ Yes, I do. ” He sounds mildly affronted. “ I pay attention. ” When you just bury your face in your pillow and sigh, he mutters a comment to himself. “ And I will certainly be paying attention to you in this outfit. ”

“I’m going to kill you.”

–

“I’m going to kill him.” You stare at yourself in the mirror on Friday night, wondering how much of a chance you have of getting out of this party.

The maid costume is as short as you’d predicted. To his credit, Tsukki had, in fact, known your size. But the skirt is so short that you can feel the cold air against your ass, even in the tiny shorts that had come with the outfit. It’s also snug around your tummy, the corset tight and pushing your breasts up until they start to spill out of the top a little bit.

You snatch your phone off the couch, Facetiming Tsukki with annoyance rising in your chest.

He’s at the Frogs’ gym when he answers, the screech of tennis shoes on the gym floor loud and the sound of Kyoutani and Koganegawa bickering even louder.

“ Hey-Woah- ” Tsukki’s eyes go wide when he sees the little maid’s bonnet on your head. “ Outfits came in, huh? ”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” You say resolutely. You haven’t shown him the full dress, keeping the camera on your face. But you see his eyes drop to the lacy choker that peeks into the frame, interest lighting up his eyes.

“ Am I gonna need to be alone to see this? ” He asks, his gaze still on your throat.

“No fucking point in that, Tsukishima,” You snap, catching the flick of his eyes to yours before he drops them again. “The whole school’s gonna see my tits and ass tomorrow night, anyway.”

“ I’m sure you’re exaggerating, ” He says, but you can see him moving off to the side anyway, his back against the wall so no one can see what he’s looking at. “ Lemme see, princess .”

“Don’t you dare sweet-talk me, Kei. I’m upset with you.”

“ Yeah, I know. It’s kind of hot .”

“Tsukki!” You stomp your foot, knowing he’s heard it when he laughs.

“ Show me, damn it! I only have two more minutes of break! ”

You sigh in irritation, swallowing the nerves that have been building up and flipping the camera to show the mirror. 

“See? It’s too short, Tsukki.” You turn side to side slowly for a minute, wondering why he’s not responding. He just stares, eyes wide and flitting all around the screen. “Please say something,” You whisper, frowning at the mirror.

“ Don’t- ” He finally says, swallowing. “- pout at me like that .”

You frown harder. “Can we get something else?”

“ No, absolutely not, ” He laughs weakly. “ And I will pay you any amount of money to wear that on a regular basis. ”

“God, I want to kill you so much right now,” You sigh, turning to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look!” You point at where the skirt ends in the back, the little shorts peeking out. “Look at that! My whole ass is out!”

“ Oh, I’m looking ,” He says, nodding. “ Face forward again for me, princess. There’s something I wanna see there, too .”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s talking about how your breasts sit in the dress. “Celibacy is not a good look on you, Tsukki-”

“ Don’t make me come over there, Y/n ,” He says, his voice distracted but clearly annoyed. You just laugh, hoping he can’t see the flush in your cheeks.

“What’re you gonna do, Tsukki? Come over and just look ?”

“ Why? Will you let me? ”

Your stomach flips, and you accidentally let out a high-pitched laugh, laced with nerves. “You’re stupid.”

He’s already smirking, seeing right through you. “ I wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures… ”

You shake your head furiously. “No way. Uh-uh. I don’t need this ending up on Twitter, too.”

“ You’re funny, thinking I’d ever let anyone see you like this. ”

“Hello?” You wave your arm in the mirror. “Party tomorrow? Whole school? Remember?”

“ It’ll be dark, and everyone will be drunk ,” He says, still staring at your chest. “ And you’ll be with me. No problem. ”

“I hate you.”

“ Yo, Tsukki- ” Kyoutani’s voice appears way too close to the phone, and you gasp, turning the camera away from the mirror. “ We gotta get back. ”

“ What? ” Tsukki presses the phone quickly to his chest, the screen only showing his white t-shirt. “ Okay. ”

There’s a silence, followed by Kyoutani’s suspicion. “... What’re you looking at? ”

“ Nothing. ”

“ Is that Y/n? ”

“No. Yes. Go away.”

“Holy shit, were those her nudes?”

You curl up on the couch, waiting for death to take you away.

“ No, you fucking idiot-”

“Tsukki’s looking at nudes! ” Kyoutani calls, his voice echoing throughout the gym. You groan, hearing their teammates start to clap and cheer, varied versions of ‘ let’s go, Tsukki! ’ audible through the phone.

“I’m gonna burn this dress,” You mutter, Tsukki’s face finally coming back into view.

“ Don’t even think about it. I’ll be there in an hour. ” He’s moving across the room, and the last thing you see before he hangs up is his hand coming down on the back of Kyoutani’s head.

–

By the time he gets to your apartment, you’ve already changed back into normal clothes, the dress laid out on your bed. He eyes it when you let him in, clearly interested.

“No chance of seeing it again tonight?”

“Not even a little one,” You say, unpacking the Chinese food he’d picked up. “And you better put that thought away, because I invited Kiyoko and Yamaguchi over.”

He groans dramatically, despite knowing fully well that this is always the plan on Friday nights. “How am I supposed to seduce you with them here?”

You shove a few cans of beer into his hands, waving him back to the living room. “You don’t. That’s why I invited them.”

Just on time, there’s a knock at your door. Tsukki lets them in with a loud sigh.

“You guys are interrupting my maid time.”

Kiyoko stands in the doorway, eyes on yours and disgust curling her lip. “Should we come back later?”

You laugh, beckoning them to the couch. “He’s mad about my costume for tomorrow.”

“God damn , Y/n!” Yamaguchi exclaims, seeing the outfit on your bed. “That might as well be lingerie.”

“Hey,” Tsukki says, snapping his fingers. “Only I get to look at the lingerie, you sick fuck.” He stands, shoving the dress away in your closet. Yamaguchi meets your eye with a grin as he takes the armchair.

“You two are nice and flirty tonight.”

Kiyoko takes the end of the couch, leaving you in the middle. “He’s in rare form,” She agrees, smirking knowingly. You just roll your eyes.

“I think he’s in heat or something. He needs to see a doctor.”

Tsukki throws himself down beside you, sighing. “Let’s talk about something else before I throw you two out so I can see it on her.”

Yamaguchi’s quick to choose a movie, and you spend the first ten minutes elbowing Kiyoko because she won’t stop snickering under her breath.

The night passes normally, the movie bad and the food good. The normal amount of laughter is shared, and the normal amount of drinking happens. There are no deviations from every other Friday night.

No deviations, that is, except for the hand that Tsukki slides between your blanket-hidden thighs sometime after his second beer. Your breath catches, and you have to feign a cough when Kiyoko glances at you in confusion.

You look up at Tsukki in alarm – his eyes are lidded and he’s staring at the TV like nothing’s out of place. But you know he knows exactly what he’s doing, because his fingers knead at the plush skin of your inner thigh, and his thumb traces delicate circles into your leg.

You wait until there’s a loud explosion on the screen to whisper up to him. “ What are you doing? ”

“ Nothing ,” He breathes. “ Just watch the movie. ”

You are unable to do anything of the sort, alcohol thrumming in your veins and your attention wholly captured by the drag of his fingertips against your skin. You shiver when his nails scratch gently at the underside of your thigh, and you hear him breathe out a quiet laugh. Your hand curls around his wrist when you feel his fingertips accidentally brush a little too high, a little too close to the hem of your shorts. 

“ I think you need to drink water ,” You mutter to him. He doesn’t respond, only finding the hem again. Your stomach fills with butterflies, because there’s no way to call that an accident, especially when he shifts his hand up and slips his fingers past the edge of your shorts. Your skin bursts out in goosebumps, and your other hand flies to his knee, his sweatpants curled up in your fist.

“ Tsukki, ” You hiss, spotting the smirk that pulls at the edge of his lips.

He squeezes your thigh one last time before drawing his hand away, and then he stands from the couch, mumbling to the group. “Gonna get water.”

Your heart races in your chest the entire time he’s gone, but you just scoot close to Kiyoko and lean your head on her shoulder. She glances down at you briefly, attention still on the terrible acting on the screen. 

“You good?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, swallowing hard. “All good.”

Your phone buzzes on the couch, and you glance at it subtly.

[10:52 PM]

Tsukki: come here.

Those butterflies in your navel explode, and your legs shake when you stand from the couch. “ Water ,” You mumble pathetically, all but stumbling around the corner.

He’s leaning against the counter, a cup of water in his hand and another sitting beside him on the granite. He says nothing while you reach for it, only keeping his eyes on yours. You swallow, the eye contact clouding your thoughts a little.

“Tsukki,” You whisper, pleading silently for him to explain what’s just happened. He just puts the cup down and turns, leaning in and trapping you against the corner of the counter. You stare up at him with wide eyes, clutching the cup to your chest.

“What, Y/n?” He sighs, refusing to look away. “What are you confused about?”

“Why you touched me-”

“No, sweetheart,” He laughs quietly. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I haven’t touched you yet. Not at all.”

Your face flushes, in full view for him to see, and you watch a smile form on his lips. You swallow hard, fighting to keep your wits about you. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

He levels you with a look of disbelief. “Two beers is hardly too much.”

“I-” Your eyes flick between his, trying to find something – anything – that will tell you what’s going on. 

But Tsukki just lets his gaze drop to your lips. You genuinely consider letting him kiss you.

Yamaguchi’s voice rings out from around the corner, full of amusement.

“ You two better not be fucking in there! ”

You jump, sloshing water on your shirt. Tsukki just takes a step back, watching you as you fumble to dry it, your face an unflattering crimson red. You leave the room when you’re done, not strong enough to meet his eyes.

You stumble back to the couch, nearly landing in Kiyoko’s lap when you throw yourself down. You can feel her looking at you, but you just hug her arm to your chest and hide your face in her shoulder, your water left unattended on the table. She says nothing, and Tsukki returns a moment later.

He sits a safe distance away for the rest of the night.

–

You sit in bed for hours the next morning, staring at the ceiling until it’s getting a little too close to the time that Yamaguchi said he’d pick you and Kiyoko up.

What are you supposed to do about Tsukki? Is he going to do that again? Is all the work you’ve put in to hide your attraction to him just going to crumble away? What’s going to happen if he figures out that he affects you the way he does? Is he going to laugh in your face, or will he reject you nicely? 

A quiet ding rings out next to your head. You jump, worried that it’s Yamaguchi saying he’s here already, and reach for your phone.

[11:09 AM]

Tsukki : stop thinking so hard about this

Your heart clenches, and you’re overwhelmed with a need to hear his voice. To figure this out now, before you go insane. 

You press call before you can think about it. He answers on the second ring.

“ Y/n? ”

“I don’t know how to stop thinking so hard,” You say, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting there. “I’m not good at that.”

“ I know. You never have been. ”

“I just…” You chew on your bottom lip. “We had rules that I could follow. And now I don’t know what the rules are.”

“ No rules, Y/n. We don’t need rules. ”

“We do!” You cry, pulling your knees up to your chest. “We do, or else I’m going to get confused.”

“ What’s so confusing? ” He sounds frustrated. “ That I think you’re hot and want to put my hands on you? Or that you like when I do? Which part is confusing? ”

Your breath hitches. He… 

There’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Tsukki-”

“ Don’t fucking brush off what I just said ,” He snaps. “ Don’t do it. ”

You swallow. “I just… It’s just hard to believe.”

“ Look. ” He sighs roughly. “ You trust me, right? ”

“Yes. Obviously,” You rub at your brow, your head starting to hurt a little. “But I’m not your-”

“ Fuck who my type is, Y/n! It doesn’t matter! ”

“It does matter!” You say, growing overwhelmed. “It matters , Tsukki! What if I…” You sigh, giving up.

“ What if you what? Say it.” When you don’t, he finishes your sentence for you. “ What if you what , Y/n? What if you fall for me? ” 

“Yes.” You curl your fingers into your sheets, nerves flooding your system. “What if I fall for you, Tsukki? That’s a real possibility, and it’s stressing me out, because I don’t want to lose you.”

He’s silent for a moment, a moment where your whole world crashes down on you. You’ve said too much, then. You’ve said too much, and he’s trying to figure out how to let you down.

You whisper into the phone, trying to find some way to fix this. “Tsukki-”

“ Don’t, ” He snaps. “ Give me a second. I’m trying very hard not to pick a fight with you right now. ”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“ Y/n, you’re so fucking- ” He sighs angrily. “ What is with you and thinking that it is just completely impossible that this could be reciprocated? ”

You stare down at nothing, speechless. His voice is sharp when he speaks.

“ I know you have body image issues, and that there are assholes everywhere making it worse. But you fucking suck at listening to me. I’m sitting here telling you I’m attracted to you, and you can’t be fucking bothered to hear me. ” He lets out a breath, and you wonder why it sounds kind of nervous. “ It is a real fucking possibility that I fall for you, too. I’m telling you to just trust me , Y/n. We will deal with whatever happens – whenever it happens – but I can’t keep doing this with you. You ignore the shit I say and act like I’m doing you a fucking service every time I breathe in your direction. Cut it the fuck out. ”

Your lip trembles, your eyes prickling with tears. “You’re kind of mean, you know that?”

“ Yes, I know that. And you’re kind of annoying. ”

“I know.”

He sighs on the other end. “ We don’t need rules, Y/n. If we keep going back and forth like this, we’re not gonna convince anyone we’re together. Stop fucking thinking so hard and just do what you want. ”

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it’s terrifying.

You don’t respond, just wiping your eyes pitifully.

“ Listen, ” He pauses, letting out a breath. There’s less heat in his voice now. “ I have to go. ”

“Oh,” You say, sitting up and peering into the kitchen for the time. “Shit, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“ It’s fine. It was important. ” There’s a creak of a door on the other end, and then noise fills the receiver as he enters the next room, likely filled with his teammates. “ But… You’ll still be here, right? ”

“Of course,” You say weakly, standing. “But I gotta get ready in the next two minutes, or Yamaguchi will leave my ass behind.”

His laugh is quiet, and it eases your heart more than it should. “ Alright. Just… think about it.”

You stare down at your phone for a moment after he hangs up, still processing what’s just been done. What he’s just admitted to you.

And then Yamaguchi does text, and you forget all about these complicated feelings in your rush to get dressed. But, once you’re safely in the back seat and idly listening to Yamaguchi and Kiyoko ramble about nothing in particular, you get lost in your thoughts, coming to terms with everything he’d said.

You text him. Because he deserves an answer.

[11:42 AM]

You : meet me outside in ten?

He doesn’t respond, but he is standing outside when you and your friends arrive. He’s past the barricade, still being photographed but out of earshot and safe from the reporters’ questions. You rush up to him, seeing that Kiyoko is tugging Yamaguchi in the other direction, the freckled boy clearly confused about why he can’t say hi to his roommate. He seems to understand after a moment, his quiet ‘ Oh! ’ fading in the distance as Kiyoko pulls him inside.

You shake your head, turning back to Tsukki. He’s already looking at you expectantly, so you sigh and plant your hand on his chest, ignoring the camera flashes behind you.

“I thought about it,” You say, your voice quiet. He visibly perks up, shifting his weight and watching you carefully. “And… it’s going to take a lot of convincing, Tsukki.” When he furrows a brow, you swallow. “I just- There’s a lot that I won’t be able to believe right away. I’ve got my own shit, and all the negative attention doesn’t help. But I’m going to try, because I do trust you.”

He seems to realize where this is going – his eyes search your face, but you cut him off as he’s opening his mouth to speak.

“I’m going to try,” You repeat. “I’m going to try this without rules.” You watch as his face changes, not quite a smile but definitely pleased. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I know you’re right. And it’s not okay for me to keep doing this to you.” Your fingers curl into his shirt, and you sigh. “But, Tsukki, for fuck’s sake, if I fall for you and you don’t let me down nicely, I will fucking kill you.”

“God, I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” He laughs. “You’re fucking insane.”

You roll your eyes, using your grip to pull him down to you. His gaze drops to your lips, and you lean forward, closing the distance.

“ Good luck today ,” You whisper against his mouth. Both his hands cup your face, and you’re forced up onto your tiptoes as he rises to full height. The air is filled with the sound of camera shutters, but you just cling to the front of his uniform. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, and you whisper one last comment.

“And you better not be expecting me to put out tonight just because my costume’s skimpy.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head as he kisses you again.

“Damn. Now I’m too distracted to play.”

–

“Does this look okay?” You ask, stepping out of the bathroom. Kiyoko’s touching up her hair in the mirror by the door, her nurse’s outfit and your maid’s outfit equally short. She eyes you in the reflection, and then her pigtails swing as she spins in place to face you.

“Wow. You look so slutty.”

You give her an exasperated look. “Do I? Are my tits out?”

“Incredibly out,” She says, staring at how they spill out of the corset. She gestures for you to turn in place, whistling low when she spots how short the skirt is. “Oh, yeah. Tsukki’s gonna love you in this.”

Your face heats. “ Yeah, I know, ” You mumble to yourself, but you know she’s heard it when you meet her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“I, uh-” You scratch at your nose. “-showed it to him already.” When she only lifts her brows in disbelief, you look away. “Yesterday. I tried it on and called him.”

“Jesus, Y/n,” She says, laughing. “You might as well just fuck him already.”

“No!” You cry, hiding your face in your hands. “Things are still the same! They’re just-” You smile lamely. “-a little blurry now.”

“Holy shit,” She says, stepping up to you. Her face is lit up with surprise. “You actually want to fuck him.”

“Hey! You can’t just put it like that!”

“Does he want to fuck you?”

“Kiyoko!”

“Oh, my God, he does!”

There’s a knock at the door, and you have to cover Kiyoko’s mouth with your hand so that Tsukki and Yamaguchi don’t hear her yell ‘ You guys are totally gonna fuck tonight! ’. 

When you yank the door open, Yamaguchi’s jaw drops.

“Holy-” He glances over your shoulder, seeing Kiyoko, too. “ Holy- ” He sputters. “You two look so fucking good!” He gestures down at himself, his zombie outfit not slutty in the least. “I look so bland now!” 

Kiyoko reaches for the side table in the living room, withdrawing a pair of scissors. She snaps them twice, staring down at Tadashi’s ripped, fake-blood-covered pants. “We can change that, if you want.”

The freckled boy eyes her with suspicion, but it grows quickly into excitement. “Is it bad that I wanna say yes?”

You laugh, pulling him into your apartment. “Go, Yamaguchi. Release your inner slut.”

He giggles, following Kiyoko to the bathroom, and you’re left with Tsukki. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound sending a shock of electricity down your spine. You turn in the foyer, finding him hovering over you. The tux for the butler’s outfit fits him perfectly, down to the tie and white silk gloves. His blond hair is gelled in a side-part, a single piece of hair falling between his eyes.

“Hi. You look nice,” You croak, still recovering from the conversation this morning. 

All throughout the game, you’d been struck, in waves, by the reality of what he’d said to you. That he’s attracted to you, that it’s okay for you to be attracted to him, too. You’d watched him move on the court – his brow furrowed, his eyes sharp, his blocks strong – and you’d been overwhelmed by just how attractive he is. Like there’d been some kind of wall there before, keeping you from experiencing the full extent of him, because you weren’t allowed to want him.

There, at the game, and even now, your body had been overrun by butterflies, their wings all beating in time and lingering deep in your skin. And there was an electric hum in your veins when he’d found your eyes at the game – the same hum that makes your skin feel alive right now, with him standing so close to you.

“Hi,” He says, stepping toward you and letting his eyes trail freely down the length of your body. From your little bonnet all the way down to the black, open-toe pumps on your feet, his gaze eats you up, those golden eyes hot on your skin. 

“Do I look okay?” You whisper, hearing Yamaguchi and Kiyoko’s laughter in the bathroom as she yells at him to stay still. The sound echoes in your apartment, but the air between you and Tsukki is so quiet.

He meets your eyes, his brows tenting in amusement. “What?”

“Do you…” Your eyes flick between his, open and vulnerable. “...think I look okay?”

He takes another step, forcing you back. Another, and then another, until your back’s pressed against the wall in your foyer. And then he leans down, flattening his hand against the wall by your head. You watch, barely breathing, as his eyes drop to your choker.

“I think,” He says, barely above a whisper. “You should ask me again at the party.”

You swallow, frowning slightly. “Why?”

When his eyes meet yours, that humming grows in your veins.

“Because,” He says, his smile teasing. “Our friends are in the next room.” His other hand reaches out, brushing your hair off of your bare shoulder. “And I don’t think they’d like what I have to say about you in this dress.”

Your breath is shallow and your eyes flutter shut, the heat of his body melting away your resolve. You nod, keeping your eyes closed for your own good. 

The bathroom door opens, and you draw in a breath of relief, prying your eyes open. Tsukki’s leaning against the opposite wall calmly, tilting his head to watch Yamaguchi come out of the bathroom behind you. 

“Look!” Tadashi giggles, strutting out to the living room. You turn, meeting Tsukki’s eyes shakily for a moment before redirecting your attention to the boy posing behind your couch. Kiyoko’s cut his pants into extremely short shorts, and his shirt’s been turned into a crop-top, some of the makeup from his pants smeared on his newly exposed skin.

You whistle appreciatively, applauding a proud Kiyoko. “Appropriately slutty. Ten out of ten.”

“Careful,” Tsukki mumbles while your friends collect their things to leave. “I’m feeling a little left out over here.”

You turn, taking his face in one of your hands and smiling mischievously. “You’re not allowed to join the Slut Party – I don’t want to have to rip anyone’s hair out tonight.”

He just smirks down at you, following the three of you out. 

The frat house where the party’s happening is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you decide to walk. The guys at the door claim to let you all in for free because of Tsukki, but you can feel their eyes on your ass as you pass by. When Tsukki looks decently annoyed by it, you just shrug up at him.

“No one told you to buy this for me-”

“ Tsukki! ” 

You turn to the sound, finding Kyoutani and Koganegawa leaving the pop-up bar in the corner of the main room. Kyoutani’s dressed as a doctor, and Koganegawa – predictably – is wearing his Frogs uniform. You shoot Tsukki a meaningful look, grinning when he mutters ‘ Yeah, alright. It’s cliche’ in your ear.

The four of you meet Tsukki’s teammates at the edge of the dance floor, Tsukki disappearing to get you both drinks. Kyoutani looks you over with appreciation.

“Damn, Y/n!” He yells over the music. “You really know what you’re doing with all that!” He gestures vaguely to your body, shrugging when Yamaguchi blatantly glares at him. “It’s a compliment!” 

You laugh, always a bit fond of Kyoutani’s blunt personality. “It’s good to see you, too, Ken,” You say, pointing at Kiyoko. “And you two match!”

It seems this is the first time he’s seeing the girl standing at your shoulder. You watch his eyes go wide as they trail down her body. 

“Oh-” He says, coughing slightly. “Hi. Wow.”

Kiyoko gives him a side-glance, always one for a little Cat-and-Mouse. “Hi.”

He recovers quickly, sidling up to her. “I’m Kentarou,” He says, smiling handsomely. But Kiyoko just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I know. We’ve met, like, eight times.”

He blinks, looking her over. And then his jaw drops. “Holy shit – Kiyoko?! ” He sputters, flushing when Yamaguchi laughs at him. “It’s just- You’re always- Holy shit.”

Kiyoko rolls her eyes and turns her back to him with a flick of her ponytail. But you can see the blush starting to dust over her cheeks, and her disinterested half-smile is starting to look a little too satisfied. You meet her eyes knowingly, and she nudges you.

“ Shut up ,” She mumbles. “ You’re the one that wants to sleep with your best friend .”

You bark out a laugh of disbelief, nudging her back. Yamaguchi throws his arms around both of you. 

“Can one of you please dance with me?” He yells over the music, already bouncing in place. “I want to be trashed and making out with a stranger by the end of the night!”

Kiyoko takes his hand and leads him to the middle of the dance floor, leaving you with a dumbstruck Kyoutani, and Koganegawa, who’s suspiciously quiet. 

Probably because he’s staring right at your chest, his lips parted in awe.

“Kanji,” You say, a little reprimanding. 

He swallows, meeting your eyes. “Hi. Sorry. Uh-” His eyes drop to the tops of your breasts again, watching how they swell over the top of your corset. “You-Hi.” He lifts his eyes to yours, realizing he’d been caught again. “Sorry-” And then he looks over your shoulder, his eyes going wide. “Uh-”

An arm slips around your waist, pulling you back against a chest. You look down, seeing the gloved hand that holds a red Solo cup full of liquid.

“Oh-” You look up at Tsukki, finding him staring at Koganegawa with thinly veiled irritation. “You got us drinks!”

He doesn’t respond, only handing you the drink in his other hand. His eyes narrow on his teammate’s, and Koganegawa blinks rapidly. 

“I-Oh-Are you two…” He lowers his voice. “I thought you weren’t-”

You put two fingers on his mouth, shutting him up. “Kanji!” You say, frowning at him.

He blushes, looking around to see who’s around. “Sorry… I’ll just-” He gestures vaguely behind him and wanders off. Kyoutani stares down at the arm Tsukki has around you and then flicks his gaze up over your head. His lips stretch in a knowing smirk.

“Interesting…” He says, looking between the two of you. And then he shoots you a downward smile, shrugging as he turns away. “Very interesting.”

You turn, Tsukki’s arm still tight around your waist. “You scared your friend off!”

He shrugs. “He was looking a little too hard.”

You pull him out to where your friends are, trying not to let him see you blush. But the butterflies in your stomach are already fluttering nervously, because you have no way to know how this night’s going to go.

–

“You should probably know,” You hiccup, giggling into Tsukki’s shoulder. “That it definitely looks like you’re keeping me in this corner whispering horny shit in my ear.”

Tsukki laughs, low and against your skin, his hand only pulling you closer to him.

You stand in a dark hallway on the edge of the main room, your hands curled into the front of his tux and his hands anchored on your waist. You can see the dance floor, but the lights are off and you’re more than a little bit drunk, so the room is a haze of bodies and loud, thumping bass. You can see some people glancing with interest at the two of you, but it’s easy to ignore. 

Your attention is more drawn to Yamaguchi whispering suggestively in the ear of Lev Haiba , of all people. You spy on your friend, ignoring the gentle brush of Tsukki’s lips against your throat.

“Well, I could start saying horny shit, if you’d like,” He mumbles, but you just pat him on the shoulder and point over to Yamaguchi.

“Is Tadashi about to bag a model? Look, look-” 

Tsukki glances over his shoulder, quickly returning to the task of nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Is it possible to check in about that in the morning, maybe? I’m a little distrac-”

You gasp loudly, smacking Tsukki’s shoulder hard. “ Look , Tsukki!” 

He turns with a sigh, following your finger to where Kiyoko is being pressed up against the far wall by Kyoutani, his tongue halfway down her throat.

“Oh-” Tsukki mumbles, blinking to clear his drunken vision. “Damn, that’s kind of crazy.”

You giggle to yourself. “Oh, that bitch is gonna be hearing from me tomo- mm- ” 

Tsukki squeezes your cheeks between his fingers. “Hey. You’re not paying enough attention to me.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, and start to laugh. It’s difficult with the way he’s holding you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you getting jealous?” You smile as wide as you can when he glares down at you. “What would make you feel better?”

He releases your face, wrapping his arms back around your waist and drawing you close to him again. “Ask me what I think of your outfit. I never answered you.”

You breathe in the alcohol on his tongue, your head swimming. “I think I know what you think of it.” You gesture down to where he’s playing with the edge of the skirt, his knuckles skimming against your thigh.

His lips brush against yours when he mumbles, “ Ask me .” 

You card your fingers through his hair, tilting your head up to kiss him. “ Okay ,” You whisper. “ What do you think of the dress, Tsukki? ” 

He dips his head, pushing his lips against yours and nipping softly at your bottom lip. “I think…” He glances down the hall, and you spot an open door a few feet away, hidden in the dark. “I think I wanna take you in there and show you.”

Your skin hums with that electricity he’s so damn good at spilling into your veins. 

“ So do it .”

His eyes sharpen at your words, and you’re hoisted up in an instant. You laugh loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and burying your face in his neck while he carries you down the hall. The door shuts behind him when he brings you into the room, and the loud, pounding music is muffled significantly.

“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Tsukki sighs. You glance up, finding a bed against the wall and a small couch in the corner. He walks you over to the couch, and you’re not sure if you’re more glad or disappointed that he isn’t taking this too fast.

He takes a seat, forcing you to straddle his thighs as you look down at him. His grin is smug. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Thought I was gonna take you to bed?”

You smack him hard on the chest. “You look stupid when you’re arrogant.”

“Yeah, well, you’re here, aren’t you?” He cups the back of your neck, dragging you in. You kiss him eagerly, the alcohol giving you the courage to drop all your pretenses. He seems to be in a similar situation, because his hands are latching onto your hips and pulling you down onto his lap. You sigh at the feeling of his thighs under yours, the difference between his sculpted ones and your soft ones almost heavenly.

“‘m not too heavy, right?” You mumble, unable to help yourself. He just shakes his head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Not heavy enough, in my opinion,” He breathes. His mouth drops to your throat as he mutters distractedly. “Sit down properly, princess.”

You let your thighs slide open, Tsukki’s mouth curling in a grin against your skin when he feels you get comfortable in your new seat.

“See?” He sucks hard on the junction of your neck. “Maybe if you’d just listen to me sometimes, we could be doing this more often.”

“Shut up, Tsukishima,” You murmur, distracted by the drag of his tongue over that burning spot on your throat.

“Fuck-” Tsukki nibbles another bruise into your skin. “Love when you do that.” His free hand digs into your hip, fingers fanning out.

“Love when I do what?” You sigh, letting your head falling to the side a little to give him more access. When his hand slides down over your ass, his hips rocking up gently as he kneads at your skin, you breathe out a quiet moan.

He shifts his hips again. “When you say my name like that. Like you’re scolding me.” He uses the hand he has on your ass to roll your hips in, his own meeting you halfway. A groan falls past his lips when you moan, your name murmured into the column of your throat.

“You like when I scold you?” You laugh weakly, your whole body humming and the electricity flowing straight to the place where your core bumps against the growing bulge in his slacks. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, Tsukki.”

He laughs, and it sends a jolt of desire to the spot below your navel. You roll your hips on your own, heart stopping when he whispers ‘ fuck’ against your ear. 

“Just think it’s cute,” He says, breathless. “Always sounds like you think you’re in charge.”

So that’s what that’s about.

“I usually am,” You argue, carding your fingers through his hair and messing it up. You smile when your nails scratch against his scalp, because he shivers and tightens his grip on your hips. “I usually am in charge,” You say again when he meets your eyes, his own half-lidded.

He just grins, his other hand coming down to your waist. “Yeah?” 

You feel his fingers dig into your skin, and then he’s dragging your hips against his, once and then twice. You drop your hands to his shoulders, gasping when he rocks his own hips up. He’s hard now, the slide of his hips against your core pure torture.

“How ‘bout now, sweetheart?” He teases, even though his breath catches in his throat when he rocks up against you a third time. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You press your forehead against his, your muscles weak. “This isn’t fair. This doesn’t count-”

“God, look at your pretty little doe eyes,” He says, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Makes me wanna give you anything you ask for.”

Trembling, you struggle to keep eye contact. “Like it when you look at me,” You whisper, watching his eyes light up. “Makes it hard to focus.”

“Yeah?” His smile is smug, satisfied. “‘s unfortunate, baby – I really like looking at you.”

Your breath is sharp in your chest, your head drowning in vodka and the feeling of Tsukishima Kei. 

“ Tsukki ,” You whine, begging – for what, you have no clue. But he groans, hearing exactly what you’re asking for.

“Don’t say my name like that, Y/n,” He warns. “Or I’ll take you to that bed and make you say it again.”

You whimper, your arms shaking when he slides against you in a way that sets your core on fire. “ Fuck- ” You whine when he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you in. His mouth is searing hot on yours, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moan into his mouth, your heart beating in places you’ve never felt with him before.

Before you can tell him that you’re thinking of letting him take you to bed, the door slams open and a giggling couple stumbles into the room.

You gasp, jumping off of Tsukki and landing in the spot next to him on the couch.

The girl that had been pulled into the room is the first to realize there are other people here.

“Oh, fuck-” She pulls away from the guy, squinting. “Oh, holy shit. Tsukishima Kei?”

Tsukki sighs, unheard as the guy spins on his heel and exclaims loudly.

“Woah! Holy shit, it’s you!” 

“Unfortunately,” Tsukki mumbles, but the guy just narrows his eyes at you, taking you in properly. And then he laughs, chortling as he gestures to you.

“Wow, nice outfit.” It’s clearly not a compliment. “You look just like you do in the photos.”

“That’s usually the point,” You say weakly. You can feel Tsukki tense next to you.

The guy approaches you, squinting in the dark. His eyes scan your bare legs and the length of your skirt. Tsukki flattens his hand over where your thighs meet, because your shorts have ridden up significantly and there’s too much showing now. 

“Do you mind backing the fuck away from my girlfriend?” He says, his tone clearer than it’s been all night.

“Tsukki,” You reprimand quietly, trying to fix your dress. The girl tries pulling the guy away, but he’s got his eyes on your chest.

“Damn, you got quite the rack on you.” He laughs when your face morphs into a scowl. “Too bad it’s attached to the rest of you.”

He’s just far enough that when Tsukki stands, he’s able to scamper back toward the door.

“Say it again,” Tsukki says, his presence towering over everyone in the room. “Say it again, and see what I do to you.” 

“Tsukki!” You stand, reaching for him. “Cut it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, Tsukki ,” The guy mocks, laughing as he steps out into the hall. “Learn to take a joke. Other than your girlfriend, that is-” He cackles, dodging Tsukki’s advances and hurrying out to the crowded main room.

Tsukki follows, likely with every intent to cause harm, but you’re quick to latch onto his arm.

“ Stop it, ” You hiss, pulling him back to you. You barely manage to get him to look at you, and you just gesture around the room when he does. “Look where he brought you. Pay attention, you idiot.”

Tsukki flicks his eyes around, seeing that the guy is causing a ruckus and drawing attention to the two of you.

“What’s wrong, Tsukki ?” He asks, giggling drunkenly. “Gonna let your bitch decide what you do?”

Tsukki tenses, turning toward him, but you pull him back. 

“Look at me,” You say sharply. He meets your eyes, and you shake your head. “Don’t fucking do it.”

“Aw, come on, Tsukki,” The guy says, dancing around the edge of the dance floor and pulling more eyes to the scene. “Give us a show, since you and your girl love the attention so much!” He sneers at you. “Show us how you got those hickies, darling.”

“Please let me punch him,” Tsukki mumbles to you, but you just shake your head. “Just one little punch. It would be so quick, no one would be able to film it.”

“Let’s go home,” You say. When he makes no move to leave, only shifting his eyes to the guy that’s clearly trying to get him to pick a fight, you tug on his sleeve. “Please?”

“Look at the happy couple, everyone! Our star rookie and his whale of a girlfriend, dressed like a whore-”

Tsukki sighs heatedly, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to go through with it, but he just snatches up your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” You whisper, nearly jogging behind him as he takes full strides to the door. There’s a yank on the skirt of your dress, and you yelp, stumbling back. When you turn, the guy’s grinning down at you, his fingers tugging on the fabric.

“Since you wanna wear something so small, let’s show everyone what’s underneath-” 

He’s shoved to the side, his body slamming into the wall on your right and slumping to the floor.  You gasp, thinking for a moment that the blond head flying past your face is Tsukki, but you realize that it’s Kyoutani when you see the streaks of dyed hair on his temple.

“Since you wanna put your hands on women, you won’t mind me putting mine on you, right?” He says, grinning cruelly. He’s about to reach out for him again, but Kiyoko’s pushing past him, her nurse’s cap falling off her head when she kicks the guy on the floor with all her might.

“Touch her again and see if I don’t kick your fucking teeth in-” She hisses, drawing her foot back. You gape at her, much like Kyoutani is, but his expression’s a little more lovestruck. It’s Yamaguchi that breaks through the group next, his arms belting around Kiyoko’s middle.

“Alright, you fucking menace, let’s not go to jail tonight!” He giggles, dragging her thrashing body back a few feet. He looks at Kyoutani in the struggle. “You gotta go, too. Doesn’t look good,” He says brightly, and the blond nods dumbly, still watching Kiyoko with hearts in his eyes.

You start to move to them, hating that your friends have gotten caught up in this, but Tsukki slides his arm around your waist and lifts you clean off your feet, hauling you through the door and out to the street.

“Wh-Tsukki!” You protest. “We have to go get them!”

“No, we don’t. Kiyoko’s got it covered,” He says with finality, setting you down and pulling you through the sea of reporters. They start to follow, but he turns sharply, side-stepping to put you behind him.

“Look,” He says to them. “I know you want to follow us, but could you maybe not tonight? I kinda just want to walk my girlfriend home, okay?”

The group of paparazzi just stand there, unused to Tsukishima Kei handling his annoyances with such diplomacy. He lets out a sigh and spins on his heel, taking your hand and pulling you quickly down to the street.

You stumble after him, glancing back periodically. “You think they’re actually gonna leave us alone?”

“Probably for, like, three more minutes. Walk faster.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

The walk home is silent, and you can feel his anger in the way he hunches his shoulders close to his ears and sighs at every crosswalk.

“Tsukki,” You say after a few blocks, knowing he’s holding it in. “Talk to me-”

He whirls around, forcing you to skid to a stop. “Why didn’t you let me hit him, Y/n?”

Your jaw drops, and you let out a breath of disbelief. “Tsukki, he was baiting you-”

“I don’t care. ” He steps close to you. “Do you realize how much it killed me to listen to the shit he said to you? He never would have touched you if I’d had my way.”

“Yeah, he was clearly looking for that reaction,” You reason. “With the reputation you have, he was obviously trying to rile you up so that he could get a look at the real Tsukishima Kei-” You scoff, gesturing to him. “People want to see you lose it, Tsukki.”

“Well, I almost did!” He snaps, and you set your hands on his chest to calm him down. It doesn’t work very well. “He put his fucking hands on you-”

“Tsukki, I’m fine . Look at me.” You gesture down at yourself, even grabbing his hands and setting them on your waist. “See? Look. I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.”

He stares down at you. This seems to get his attention more, having his hands on you. You smile up at him. 

“I’m okay. I promise.”

He just blinks, and you know he’s not ready to accept it. Sighing, you point down the street, only two blocks away from your apartment.

“Can we go home, please? I think those reporters are probably catching up to us.”

He holds your hand tight the whole way there.

–

“You can’t let people get to you like that, Tsukki,” You say, sighing. 

You’ve just finished taking off all your makeup and changing into clothes that actually cover your body. Tsukki’s on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, his tux crumpled on the floor and his hair mussed up and falling into his eyes. The air between you had been silent the rest of the way home and while you were getting changed. You can tell he’s calmed down a little, but he still sighs when you speak.

“I feel like it would have been warranted,” He says, shooting you a joking smirk over the back of the couch. You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, a hand on your hip.

“The whole reason we’re doing this is so that I can fix you,” You say, moving into the kitchen to get you both water. “You gonna let me fix you or not?”

“The shit he said to you was not okay, Y/n.” He shakes his head, scrolling through Twitter. You take a seat next to him, seeing that he’s looking through footage from the party.

“I know. It wasn’t fun. But you still can’t pick fights like that,” You say, running your fingers through his hair and leaning into his side. “You have too much on the line right now.”

He doesn’t say anything, just scrolling through the tweets. There’s a video of him taking a few steps toward the guy that’s laughing, but the camera catches the way you pull on his arm and bring him back to you. Tsukki’s eyes meet yours, and you can see his shoulders slump with defeat, his eyes searching your face. What you say to him is inaudible in the video, but it’s clear that his body language shifts when he looks at you.

The next video is the one of him carrying you out of the frat house. The camera catches the way you gape at Kiyoko’s anger, the way your brow furrows with concern as you start to move to her. It also catches the moment that Tsukki reaches for you, his frown deep and his arms sliding tight around your middle. You’re lifted off your feet, and you look up at him with surprise, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

The video after is the one of him facing the reporters, essentially asking in his nicest voice that they fuck off for once. His eyes are hard, swimming with anger, and his jaw is clenched, but his words are polite and his body shields you purposely. 

It’s weird, seeing the moments that you’ve experienced from someone else’s point of view. But, for once, you’re glad people are seeing your life with him play out – even those who were so against you from the beginning.

[10:57 PM] tsukkiyn4life :   dude was WAY out of line. yn looks smoking hot and tsukkis fighting literal demons not to put bro in the hospital but HE LISTENS TO HIS GIRL!!! GREEN FLAG!!!

[10:59 PM] numberonekei : okay even ill admit yn was on it with this one. he woulda been fucked if he’d gotten into another fight

[11:05 PM] TsukkiYnShipper : the CHOKEHOLD she must have on that man to get him to back down…. tsukishima kei is down horrendously bad

[11:07 PM] keisolostan : bro the way he talked to those reporters? who are you and what have you done with tsukishima kei

You give Tsukki a meaningful look. “Got anything to say?”

He feigns innocence. “Hospital bills are expensive, anyway?”

“Tsukki-”

“Okay, fine-” He laughs, throwing his phone down. “You were right – there. You were right. You are singlehandedly fixing the Sendai Frogs’ problem child.”

You shrug, your smile satisfied. “All in a day’s work, really. Next thing you know, you’ll be smiling at babies and petting dogs and shit.”

“You’re so stupid,” He snorts, shaking his head. And then he sighs, exhausted. “That was an extreme exercise is self-control.”

“But you did so well,” You say, cupping his face and planting a messy kiss on his cheek. “‘m proud of you.”

“Sorry, princess – I’m not much a praise kink guy,” He jokes, but you can see the flush spread across his cheeks and ears. “I’m more into punishment.”

You give a nervous laugh. “Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said cute girls can’t handle you.”

“Oh?” He says, meeting your eyes with interest. “You remember that, huh? Been thinking about it?” His lips pull into a wide, satisfied smile when you purse your lips in embarrassment. But he doesn’t push it, only sighing quietly and looking away. “I suppose I should go.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not the part you’re expecting. Even after what the two of you had done tonight, and even after the things you’d said to each other on that couch in that room, that’s not what comes to mind when you think about him staying.

You just don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep looking at him and touching his face and listening to his stupid laugh. And, although that’s terrifying to realize, it’s what you what.

And he’d told you to do what you want.

“You don’t… have to…” You whisper finally, just as he’s starting to sit up.

His eyes find yours, and there’s a painful silence that follows. He blinks, and you blink back.

“I don’t have to… what?” He asks, although it’s clear by the way his eyes search your face with surprise that he knows exactly what you’re saying.

“Go.” You let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to go.”

Tsukishima Kei has never stayed the night before – not alone and certainly not in the way you’re implying.

He glances over the back of the couch in the general direction of your tiny bed before looking back to you, a blush dusting over his cheeks. He goes for the safest assumption, swallowing hard. “Uh… Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable… thing…”

“Yeah,” You say, laughing as you stare down at your lap. “My bed’s probably not that comfortable either… for… more than just me…” You don’t dare to meet his eyes again, just tugging at a stray piece of string sticking out of your pajama shorts. When he doesn’t respond, you start to sweat. “You don’t have to stay. You can just-”

He stands abruptly, and your head flies up to watch him. He crosses the distance to your bed and throws himself under the covers, his feet sticking out at the bottom.

“Turn the lights off on your way,” He mumbles, tossing his glasses and phone on the nightstand. And then he rolls over, facing the wall.

You stare for a moment, only managing a shocked laugh as you stand and kill the lights in the living room and kitchen. You make your way to him in the dark, your heartbeat thrumming in your throat and your legs a little shaky. When you slide under the blanket, Tsukki scoots further, pressing himself against the wall to give you room. You struggle to fit on the bed with your back turned to him, half of your body hanging off the edge, but you refuse to move, just praying that you’ll fall asleep soon.

Tsukki’s head shifts a little after a moment. “Are you comfortable?” He whispers in the dark.

“Mhm,” You say. “I’m good.”

He only snickers, turning in place. “Liar.” There’s an arm sliding around your waist, and then you’re dragged across the mattress until your back presses to his chest. Your eyes go wide, staring at nothing as you feel him mold his body against yours, his face burying into the back of your neck.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath fanning out over your skin. He sounds nervous.

“I think this is worse,” You joke weakly, but you do your best to relax back into him.

You feel his smile against your neck. “‘s not so bad…” And then he presses his forehead to your shoulder, and you feel heat radiating off of his face. “Not bad,” He repeats with a sigh.

“No,” You whisper. “Not bad.”

His hand finds yours in the dark, just before you drift off to sleep.

–

You wake the next morning to a mouth full of blond hair. 

Sputtering quietly, you brush it away from you, realizing in the process that the weight on your chest is Tsukki’s head. He’s splayed out on his stomach, one of his knees tucked between yours and an arm draped over your hips, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed.

You stare down at him, running your fingers through his hair very carefully. You scratch your nails against his scalp, smiling when he sighs and shifts closer. His face looks so peaceful like this, you realize – his brows aren’t furrowed and his shoulders aren’t tense.

You haven’t seen him like this in years.

Before you can read into it too much, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, careful not to jostle him.

[9:04 AM]

Kiyoko : i feel like i just got hit by a truck

Kiyoko : that dragged me 7 blocks before realizing i was there

You snort, typing a response with one hand.

You : are you home/alone

Kiyoko : doors unlocked

You do your best to slide out from under Tsukki, going so far as pressing your lips to the crest of his eyebrows when he starts to frown. He relaxes, rolling over and going back to sleep instantly. Quietly, you tiptoe to the kitchen and retrieve two cans of iced coffee from the fridge before slipping out the door.

Kiyoko’s in bed when you sneak into her apartment. She sits up when you take your shoes off, grinning guiltily as you stop short.

“You slutty little nurse,” You say, staring at her. Her hair’s tangled and her pajamas are only half-on, but the real clue that she’d had an overnight guest is the mass of hickies decorating her throat and chest.

She rolls her eyes, beckoning you to bed. You eye it suspiciously. 

“Are the sheets clean…?”

She laughs. “Yes, you ass. I changed them before I texted you.”

You shrug, hopping into bed with her and handing her a coffee. “So? What happened after I left?”

“Kentarou walked me to my door like a respectable gentleman,” She says, sipping loudly and looking away. You just stare, waiting her out. She finally meets your eyes again, giggling.

“And then ?” You ask impatiently.

“And then…” She shrugs one marked-up shoulder. “He fucked me like an animal.”

You squeal, smacking her arm over and over again while she laughs.

“Oh, my God, Kiyoko,” You wheeze, beaming at her. “I’ve never been more proud to be your friend. Wait-” You point at the door. “Did you just make that man do the walk of shame?”

“No, of course not!” She says, leaning her back against the headboard. “Obviously, I… thanked him for his services.” She endures another round of your smacking before saying, “He’s taking me out for dinner tomorrow. Said he’d pick me up from campus and everything.”

You nudge her, grinning wide. “Look at you! Dating a pro volleyball player.”

“Maybe you can give me some tips,” She jokes, finishing off her coffee.

“He’s not pro yet,” You say, rolling your eyes. “Hopefully, he’ll make it to the end of the year without starting shit.”

Her hand pauses halfway from her mouth, the empty can hanging in her hold while she examines you. You furrow a brow.

“What?”

“I was…” She squints now. “...kidding.” You blanche, staring at her while her eyes narrow further. “You know… because you’re not actually dating?”

“Right,” You say, smiling. “I know. I was just…”

“Y/n,” She says, lowering her finished drink and gaping at you. “Are you two actually dating ?”

“No!” You say, putting your coffee down on her nightstand so you can face her. “No, we’re not. It’s like I said – we’re just not really labeling anything.”

“Not labeling-” She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible idea. That’s such a slippery slope-”

“I know! We just… We know. We’re just taking it one day at a time.” You shrug. “That’s all I’ve got, honestly. Nothing else has happened.”

As if summoned by some demonic force, your phone buzzes on the bed between you.

[9:28 AM]

Tsukki : you know

Tsukki : usually it’s ME that sneaks out the morning after

Tsukki : im the sneaker

Tsukki : not the sneak-ee

Kiyoko snatches your phone up before you can, blinking hard to make sure she’s reading that right.

“You fucked him !” She yells, smacking your arm when you take your phone back.

“No! I didn’t! We just slept!” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday, young lady-”

“I swear!” You laugh, bracing for her second smack. “All we did was sleep, I swear!”

She stares, clearly disturbed. “You’ve never done that before. Sleepovers.”

You shake your head with a tight smile. “Nope. First time.”

“And all you did was sleep.”

“All we did was sleep.”

She scans you a moment longer before leaning in, as though you’re not the only people in the room. “Did you catch feelings?”

“No!” You reel back, pushing her away lightly.

“Y/n, that’s not good-”

“I didn’t !” You swallow hard, trying to push down the memory of wanting him to stay the night. Of waking up this morning with him in your arms. “I didn’t catch feelings. It was just late, and we were just tired.”

She looks like she certainly has more to say, but she thankfully drops it, only pointing at your phone. “Answer him, before he starts calling.”

His name pops up on your screen with an incoming call the second she says it.

You only hesitate a moment, meeting her eyes with an uneasy smile before pressing it to your ear. “Hello?”

You don’t fight when Kiyoko drags your arm away from your face and aggressively jabs at the button to activate the speakerphone.

“ You left, ” Tsukki says groggily, his voice echoing in Kiyoko’s apartment. “ That’s fucked up. ”

“I didn’t leave. I’m at Kiyoko’s.”

“ Oh. I guess that’s fine. Can you steal some coffee? ”

Kiyoko just rolls her eyes but keeps quiet.

“I’ll see what I can do,” You say. And then you clear your throat. “What’s the plan today?”

“ Dunno. Wanna get breakfast? ”

You push Kiyoko away when she stares at you meaningfully. “Don’t you have practice today?”

“ Mm, ” He groans, stretching and yawning loudly. “ ‘s later. I feel pretty good today. ”

“Oh-” You stare down at your phone, your brows furrowing. “Really? My bed’s not really built for two.”

“ I know, I’m surprised, too. But that’s the best I’ve slept in ages. ”

Your heart jumps, and you don’t have it in you to push Kiyoko away again when she stares right into your soul. 

“Oh. I-That’s good. You should get a shitty Twin XL bed, too, then.”

He laughs low, the sound deep and satisfied. You blush when Kiyoko curls her lip in disgust – she’s never heard that laugh before, then.

“ I could do that, yeah, ” He says, shifting in bed. “ Or I could just keep sleeping in yours.”

You’re really not getting out of this one. Kiyoko’s deadpan stare burns a hole through your face. Your cheeks warm to the point of discomfort, and you pick at a piece of lint on her blanket. 

“Yeah… I suppose you could.”

He’s quiet on the other end for a moment. “ Okay, ” He says, his voice a little uncertain. “ That’s that, then. ”

“That’s that.”

“ Bring coffee? ”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“ See ya. ”

The apartment is dead silent after he hangs up. You nervously search Kiyoko’s blanket for more lint, feeling her eyes on your face.

“Do you like him, Y/n?” She says after a moment.

You just stare at your hands. “Dunno.”

“Do you realize that it sounds like he likes you?”

“I don’t know about that.”

She sighs, pulling you into her arms and planting a kiss on your temple. “So beautiful, yet so stupid. And blind. Stupid, blind, beautiful-”

“Okay, you made your point.”

–

By the time you return to your apartment, Tsukki’s washed up and sitting expectantly in bed, his back against the headboard as he taps away on his phone. He scans you when you come in.

“No coffee?”

You snort, joining him in bed. He shifts, eyeing you nervously for a moment before leaving one hand flat on the mattress and angling his body toward you. It’s clearly an invitation. 

You just meet his eyes, your heartbeat suddenly strong in your chest.

And then you scoot toward him, curling up beside him and letting your knees fall over his thigh. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you comfortably against him.

“Are you sure you slept okay?” You ask, your voice cracking when you feel his thumb drawing circles in your skin. 

He nods, eyes dropping to your mouth. “Wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?”

“No,” You laugh. “It was, uhm…” You trail off, feeling when he leans in. His lips are warm against yours, and you feel abnormally at ease, wrapped up in his arms like this. You card your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and shivering when his other hand slides along the outside of your thigh, kneading gently. 

“ You fucking liar ,” He whispers against your mouth. “ You taste like coffee. ”

You throw your head back, laughing. “I’m sorry! I grabbed some from the fridge before I went up.” And then you kiss him again before you lose your courage. “I’ll buy you coffee while we’re out.”

“My girl’s such a provider,” He says, grinning when you smack him on the shoulder. You try not to let the words ‘ my girl ’ affect you too much.

“Do you want coffee or not?”

He nods, pulling you in for one more kiss before murmuring ‘ Sounds good ’ against your mouth. 

You have to peel yourself out of his arms, the danger of staying in bed all day with him too high.

The two of you walk to breakfast, hand in hand, and then you see him off when it’s time for practice. He comes back after, dinner in hand, and you both work on assignments with trashy TV playing in the background.

He stays the night again. And again. And again.

He stays until Christmas.

[jadeshifting]

— INTRO 2 THE SLYTHERINS

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

MATTHEO THOMAS MARVOLO RIDDLE . magic that incinerates its target. fireworks. messy hair. dice and card games. push-ups. charcoal drawings. stack of unreturned library books. steak so rare it’s bloody. insane right hook. late night swims. tall stacks of pancakes. sleeping facedown on homework parchments. perfectly split orange slices.

PANSY PANEGYRIA PARKINSON . freezing cold hands. hair clippings in the sink. espresso martinis. cartwheels. reading by the window while it storms. pears. scribbles of the moon phases. running cannonballs off the dock. sun-bleached bones. jeweled silver earrings. spinning and jumping rather than dancing. plant clippings tucked in pockets.

MILLICENT AUDREY BULSTRODE . pressed flowers in textbook pages. gentle hands. lemon loaf with poppy seeds. light pinky lip gloss. snails. doodling on notes in class. lacy bed canopy. emotional support water bottle. preserved butterfly wings. lotuses floating on the lake. jam-filled cookies. wearing wired earbuds. stockings constantly torn.

LORENZO MASSIMO BERKSHIRE . best tree climber. polished loafers. insanely loud laughing. massive record collection. slow mornings in the greenhouse. poetry books. board games. high fiving everyone. clinking potion bottles. marshmallows. loud snoring. cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. making paper airplanes. half-melted cookie dough ice cream.

BLAISE ORION ZABINI . a hankerchief for other people to use. caramel coffee. murder mystery books. comforting hugs. freshly pressed shirts. bumblebees. unconditionally punctual. long games of chess. pumpkin pasties. sheet music. seems to know something others don’t. impeccable manners. fresh, clean cologne. unfurling the newspaper every morning.

ASTORIA ACANTHYLLIS GREENGRASS . notes in French. seashell collection. the perfect nude lipstick. effortless elegance. going for therapeutic swims. bird baths. silent if she doesn’t have anything to say. yellow roses. mother-of-pearl. sipping matcha. wandering by the lake like a ghost. perfect posture. blackberry jam on croissants. silk pillowcases.

THEODORE TIBERIUS DONATO NOTT . coffee that’s way too strong. the worst chainsmoker. napping everywhere. silver flask. dark chocolate. bowls of blueberries. throwing huge logs in the fire. insane plays during quidditch games. refusing to put shoes on. tall glasses of butterbeer. tattered book spines. wrinkled sweaters. flittering sparrow wings. chocolate muffins.

DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY . silver rings and bracelets. pine candles. forehead creases. deft piano playing hands. perfectly slanted handwriting. the overpowering smell of wand polish. crunchy apples. terribly boring magical theory books. crisply tied parcels. freshly brewed peppermint tea. searching for constellations. crystal decanters of water. tucked bedsheet corners.

DAPHNE CLEOMEDE GREENGRASS . the most poisonous judgemental glare. shiny gold jewelry. too many throw pillows. olive juice. 20-step hair routine. sparkling champagne. cheesecake. unbelievably long bubble baths. crème filled doughnuts for breakfast. jewelry box with a lock and key. powdered sugar. loose silk tops. gold-dusted nails.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[ ib @wishicouldkeepconcentration !! ]

[vigilxntesht]

𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦: 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 — kang sae-byeok x reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang sae-byeok x f!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 2k

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — part 1 here! this was requested by @lyzem

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚

you tell yourself it’s just a casual meet-up, not a real date. but as you steal glances at the door, waiting for her to show up, your heart betrays you. whether you admit it or not, this feels like the start of something different—something that matters.

you wake up with an unusual lightness in your chest. it’s tuesday. the day of your… well, date. if you can even call it that. you shake your head, heat creeping into your face as you rush through your morning routine. there’s no point in overthinking it. you’re just meeting up with a customer—one who happens to be unfairly gorgeous, frustratingly mysterious, and possibly interested in you. maybe.

by the time you arrive at the coffee shop, the usual morning rush is in full swing. you slip into your routine with ease, taking orders, steaming milk, and pouring hot shots of espresso. but no matter how busy you keep yourself, your mind drifts back to one thing—one person.

sae-byeok.

she said she’d come back today. she promised.

the hours drag on, each moment stretching painfully long. you keep glancing at the door, waiting for the familiar jingle of the bell, but every time, it’s someone else: a regular, a group of students, an elderly couple. not her.

by noon, doubt begins to creep in. maybe she changed her mind. maybe she was just being polite. maybe—

the bell chimes.

you turn, heart beating out of your chest.

and there she is.

sae-byeok steps inside, dressed in dark jeans and an oversized hoodie, her hands stuffed tightly into her pockets. her gaze flicks around the shop before landing on you, and for a second, neither of you move. the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly—acknowledgment, familiarity.

you quickly shake off your nerves, plastering on a casual smile as you approach the counter.

“let me guess,” you say, tilting your head. “iced americano. no sugar.”

she exhales softly—almost a laugh—and nods. “you learn fast.”

you chuckle, reaching for a cup. “what can i say? i’m a quick study.”

as you prepare her drink, you feel her eyes on you. unlike yesterday, she doesn’t look away when you glance back. instead, she holds your gaze, studying you with that same quiet intensity. it makes your pulse race, but you force yourself to focus, carefully adding ice to her cup before handing it over.

sae-byeok takes it, fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. it’s nothing—just an accident, just skin against skin—but somehow, it sends a shiver down your spine.

she lingers by the counter, doesn’t leave like yesterday. instead, she hesitantly shifts her weight.

“i, um…” she starts, then clears her throat. “are you still free after your shift?”

your heart stutters.

she remembered.

you nod, trying to hide the grin creeping up your face. “yeah. i get off at four.”

she looks satisfied with that answer, giving a small nod.

“i’ll wait.”

when you don’t respond right away, her cheeks flush. “i mean, um, only if you want to. i wouldn’t want to, like, force you or…. yeah.”

your eyes widen as you quickly shake your head.

“no, no! i do want to! sorry, i was just—uh—thinking.”

and just like that, she moves to her usual spot by the window, settling in with her drink.

the rest of your shift is torture. not because of the work, no, that part is fine. it’s because every time you glance over, she’s there. sitting quietly, sipping her drink, her presence impossibly distracting.

finally—finally—four o’clock arrives. you clock out in record time, tossing your apron aside before making your way over to her table.

“ready to go?” you ask, voice a little breathless.

she looks up at you, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. then, slowly, she stands. “yeah.”

the two of you step outside, the crisp afternoon air wrapping around you. for a moment, there’s silence. neither of you seem to know what to say, but surprisingly, it’s not awkward. it’s… comfortable.

sae-byeok gestures toward the sidewalk. “um, there’s a park nearby.”

you nod in approval. “sounds nice.”

as you start walking together, your steps naturally fall into sync. the tension from your first meeting has softened, replaced by something lighter, easier. and as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting the world in it’s golden glow, you realize something:

this isn’t just a date.

it’s the beginning of something more.

the walk to the park is quiet, but not in an awkward way. every so often, you steal a glance at the girl next to you, watching as the golden evening light catches in her dark hair and highlights the freckles dusted across her cheeks. she seems lost in thought, eyes fixed ahead, hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie.

you wonder if she’s nervous. you definitely are.

when you finally reach the park, it’s peaceful—mostly empty, aside from a few people walking their dogs or jogging along the gravel paths. the air is cool, tinged with the scent of grass and the distant aroma of street food from a nearby restaurant.

she slows her pace, tilting her head slightly. “want to sit?”

you nod, following her over to a bench beneath a large oak tree. the branches stretch high above, leaves rustling calmingly in the breeze. she sits first, and for a second, you hesitate before taking place beside her. close enough to feel the warmth of her presence, but not quite touching.

a beat of silence passes.

then, she exhales, shifting slightly. “so… do you always ask customers on dates, or am i just special?”

you blink, caught completely off guard. heat rushes to your face as you let out an awkward laugh. “what? no! i mean, you are special! but, uh, i don’t usually—” you stop yourself, cringing at your own fumbling. “god, that was such a bad answer.”

to your relief, she lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible, but there. when you glance over, you catch the faintest trace of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips.

“i was just messing with you,” she says, voice quieter now. “you’re easy to fluster.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

and then, she actually does laugh. it’s short, almost hesitant, like she’s not used to doing it. but it’s real. the sound is soft, airy—enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

when you lower your hands, she’s watching you. her expression is unreadable, but her gaze lingers, eyes flickering across your face like she’s memorizing every detail. it makes you nervous. makes you feel seen in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been before.

you clear your throat, looking away.

“so, uh… what do you do? besides intimidating baristas with intense eye contact?”

sae-byeok hums, leaning back against the cold bench. “i work. a lot.”

you nod, waiting for her to continue. when she doesn’t, you press.

“doing what?”

she hesitates, fingers curling around the fabric of her hoodie. then, with a small shrug, she says, “whatever pays.”

there’s something guarded in the way she says it, like she’s holding something back. that’s when you notice that she even seems a little embarrassed, so you don’t push. instead, you offer a small smile. “sounds tiring.”

she exhales through her nose. “it is.”

a comfortable silence settles between you again. the sky above fades into a soft blend of pink and orange, the sun lowering with every passing minute.

then, suddenly, she speaks. “and you?”

you blink, caught off guard. “me?”

she nods. “what do you do? other than making iced americanos and—” she pauses, a teasing glint in her eyes. “…staring at customers like they’re some kind of unsolvable puzzle.”

your face burns. “i was not staring.”

she rises her eyebrows doubtfully and you surrender. “okay, maybe i was staring.”

she turns to look at you, an amused sparkle in her eyes. “why?”

you open your mouth, then close it again, scrambling for an answer that doesn’t make you sound ridiculous. “i don’t know,” you admit, fidgeting with your hair. “you just… looked really pretty in the sunlight.”

she freezes.

you almost don’t notice, but when you do, panic bubbles up your chest. was that too much? too soon?

but before you can backtrack, she shifts, looking down at her shoes. “oh.”

just that. one small word, barely audible. but in the dim light, you catch it—the faint pink dusting her cheeks, the way she bites the inside of her cheek like she’s trying not to smile.

your heart stumbles over itself.

a few minutes later, she speaks again—quieter this time.

“i liked it.”

you frown. “um, liked what?”

she exhales, shaking her head like she can’t believe she’s saying this. “what you said. about the sunlight.”

a relieved warmth spreads through your chest. you try to fight the smile tugging at your lips but fail miserably.

“good,” you say softly. “because i meant it.”

she doesn’t respond. not verbally, at least. but her hand drifts slightly, brushing against yours as you sit there. and this time, she doesn’t pull away.

the sun has almost completely set by the time you and sae-byeok make your way back toward the entrance of the park. the air is colder now and the streetlights are beginning to flicker on.

neither of you seem eager to leave.

you walk a little slower, letting the last moments of the evening stretch out just a bit longer. every now and then, your hands brush, but neither of you acknowledge it. it’s comfortable, this quiet space between you—something unspoken but understood.

when you finally reach the sidewalk, you hesitate, turning to face her. “so…” you start, rocking on your heels. “this was nice.”

she nods, wrapping her arms around her waist. “yeah.” there’s a pause, and then, softer, “i had a good time.”

your heart does a backflip. “me too.”

for a second, it looks like she wants to say something else, but instead, she glances down and bites her lip.

the soft glow of the streetlights catches on her dark eyes, making them stand out even more, and you suddenly feel so fond of the girl in front of you that it’s almost laughable.

before you can stop yourself, you speak.

“would you… want to do this again?”

her eyes flick up to yours, surprised—but not in a bad way. a small, almost shy smile appears on her lips. “yeah. i would.”

you grin, warmth blooming in your chest. “cool. um, great. that’s… yeah.” you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “sorry, i’m terrible at this.”

she huffs out a quiet laugh. “me too.”

you stand there for another moment, neither of you quite ready to walk away. but eventually, she shifts. she takes a small step back, though she seems disappointed about having to do it.

“i should get going.”

you nod, even though you don’t want the night to end. “right. yeah. me too.”

she hesitates, just for a second, then glances around as if checking for anyone nearby. when she’s sure you’re alone, she leans in just slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. her thumb brushes over your cheek gently. it’s not a kiss, not even a hug: just something quiet and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

then, with one last look—one that lingers just a little too long—she turns and starts walking away.

you watch her go, your heart thudding in your chest, and just before she disappears around the corner, she glances back. it’s quick. barely a second. but it’s enough.

as you finally turn to leave, a huge, unstoppable smile spreads across your face.

yeah.

you’re definitely seeing her again.

[d-criss-news]

‘Maybe Happy Ending’: Darren Criss’ New Musical Shows the Lovesick Side of AI

Whether he’s standing  under the glare of a spotlight on a Broadway stage, or perched in front of an open window at a bustling Nolita coffeeshop, one fact stays the same: Darren Criss practically vibrates with energy. And that observation isn’t just because Criss currently stars in the new Broadway musical Maybe Happy Ending, where in a world filled with robots, energy is everything.

Criss plays Oliver, a life-like “Helper-Bot” living out his lifespan in a small apartment in Seoul, Korea. For all his robotic tendencies, stiff limbs, and jointed movements, Oliver is clear from his very first song that he cherishes his simple, unwavering routine: chatting with his potted plant Hwaboon, listening to old jazz records, and waiting for mail from his owner James. But when Claire (Helen J. Shen), the Helper-Bot across the hall, crashes into his life because of her broken charger, the two’s budding friendship and matching dream to visit South Korea’s famed JeJu island catapults them onto a journey about the importance of memories and the complex nature of love. 

Written by Hue Park and composed by Will Aronson, Maybe Happy Ending is a charming addition to a Broadway scene usually dominated by revivals and shows based on established intellectual property — with Criss’ performance giving Oliver passion and heartbreaking depth that feels like it should be impossible for a battery-powered assistant. But what shows the musical’s strength and staying power is its extremely dedicated online fandom, also known as Fireflies, who have used word of mouth posts on TikTok, Reddit, and Tumblr to drive up ticket sales and take the musical from scrappy newcomer to a Tony contender. And whether it’s kismet or something more magical, there’s something incredibly significant about a musical thriving from its online fandom being led by an actor whose career is defined by them. Criss tells Rolling Stone he doesn’t take lightly how much fans feel attached to the Broadway musical. After all, he was a fan first. 

“You don’t go to school for this,” Criss says, black-painted fingernails curled in front of a shot of espresso. “Nothing can prepare you for the oddness and the beauty of [fandom]. It’s a mutating organism. I get it. And whenever anyone wants to be a part, I’m very grateful, because I know what is driving that engine.”

When Criss exits the stage door left of the Belasco theater after a performance of Maybe Happy Ending, it’s always unclear which version of the 38-year-old people are cheering for. The average person might recognize the actor for his time on the Ryan Murphy teen-comedy Glee, where he played a cappella group leader Blaine Anderson, love interest of Kurt Hummel (Chris Colfer). There’s also Murphy’s 2018 FX limited series The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, for which Criss took home a Primetime Emmy for his portrayal of killer Andrew Cunanan. He’s also been on Broadway for How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Chess, Hedwig and The Angry Inch, and American Buffalo. But what the layman might not be aware of is Criss’ digital start via the now-famous YouTube musical theater group Team Starkid. He played boy wonder Harry Potter in Starkid’s theater parody A Very Potter Musical, which was filmed during he and his friends’ final semester at the University of Michigan. The show went viral on YouTube in 2009 — kickstarting Team Starkid’s presence online as a generation-defining digital theater company. 

Before A Very Potter Musical was quintessential YouTube history, it was the school’s annual basement musical theater show for “shits and giggles.” His senior year, Criss played Potter and wrote several songs two days before the show. Because they performed in a classroom that was set up with performance cameras and mics, the group convinced lead writers Nick and Matt Lang to cut the footage together, which ended up on a DVD the group gathered to watch together. After graduation, the friends decamped to different cities, but people kept asking to be sent the DVD. So Criss uploaded it to YouTube to save money on postage. “It was literally just a means to share with our friends, unaware that anybody outside of our dumb group of friends would be interested in this very niche thing,” he says. “But I just remember waking up and getting a notification that we were the number one subscribed channel in 50 countries.” 

While Criss describes the experience of going viral during such an early stage of the internet as  “uniquely terrifying,” he also notes that his jumpstart into the online world with Starkid has made him realize just how rare it is that collaborations with friends not only succeed but are well received. Maybe Happy Ending’s director Michael Arden is married to Criss’ college classmate, Andy Mientus, who was an associate director of the show’s first run in Atlanta. Criss’ co-star Shen is also a recent graduate of the University of Michigan and Criss describes her as both an actress with “supernova potential,” and a dear friend. 

“The thing that scared us about [Starkid] at first was the thing that ended up being a huge asset to us, which was this sort of scrappy, me and my friends quality to it,’” Criss says. “It’s a moment of great pride and joy for me, because it was what you dream about, which is like, ‘Oh, if I could just make stuff with my friends.’ With a lifetime of creating stuff, I know the feeling of being into [a project] when other people aren’t, or vice versa. But I’ve loved this show since we started making it, and the fact that other people responded to it is really validating.”

Even if there was a good way to spoil the magic of the show — there isn’t — it would be a disservice to try here. But Criss, a father of two, calls Maybe Happy Ending “the greatest possible thing that could be happening to me and my family creatively, spiritually, emotionally and mentally,” because the schedule allows him to have time with his wife and kids. “These are very valuable years I will not get back,” he says. “And I’m keenly aware of that, so I get very emo about this very beautiful moment in my life.” But it’s not just a return to Broadway for the actor, it’s a return to the very theater where he starred in Hedwig and the Angry Inch in 2016, but with a friend making her Broadway debut. 

“The fact that Helen and I are now just sharing this moment, and that marquee, there’s a real poetry to it,” he says. “I get to behold this staggering Broadway debut. I think this is gonna be one of those moments that we talk about many years from now. ‘Oh, I saw Sutton [Foster] in this,’ or ‘I saw Audra [McDonald] in this.’ I saw Helen in this eight times a week. And I had the best seat in the house.”

Fandom aside, Maybe Happy Ending also has a clear draw with the prescient questions it raises about artificial intelligence and the idea of planned obsolescence in an actively growing tech field. Yes, that doesn’t sound particularly conducive to a no-intermission musical helmed by a talented predominantly Asian-American cast and a jazzy, romantic score. But that’s the sheer surprise of Maybe Happy Ending, which manages to tackle giant thoughts of romance, trash, and a human devotion to tech, all within an hour and 40 minutes. 

“I got asked a question today, like, ‘How soon do you think [robot helpers] are gonna happen?’ And I was like ‘It happens now,’ We have emotional relationships with our technology,” Criss says. “You lose your phone in a fucking cab, you go insane. Your phone is an extension of yourself, for better or for worse. I always tell people like when they’re trying to get their head around the pitch for the show, ‘Well, how many old iPhones do you have in a drawer?’ How many old pieces of technology do you keep for reasons beyond rational belief systems? We ascribe parts of ourselves into these things that are part of our story, and we can’t let them go.” 

Broadway fandoms aren’t something that can simply be manufactured to help with a show’s appeal. Theater is a notoriously inaccessible medium, with filmed versions either expensive or entirely unavailable. It’s an art that is experienced best in person. But that proximity can also bring a bit of a taboo about digital fans, where their fervor and intensity can put off actors or creatives. Criss notes that while this can seem weird to some, he always encourages people to double down on the love for their interests. After all, he says his intense love of musicians and movies is what got him to this stage in the first place.

“People say ‘Don’t chase your heroes.’ No,” Criss says . “Wait outside of buses for them. Go to a store and get your sneakers signed by them. Keep track of what they’re doing. And then cultivate your mind and your skill set to get to a level where your abilities put [you] in a room with them. That’s the way the inspiration wheel works.” 

[the-catch-center]

🔒 SPATIOTEMPORAL CATCH CENTER: INTERNAL RECONDITIONING DOSSIER

SUBJECT CODE: 044-EXE REVIEW OFFICER: Centaur K. Marlowe (Temporal Behavior Enforcement, Tier-5 Clearance) DATE OF INTAKE: 2025-05-08 UTC REALITY ANCHOR STATUS: UNSTABLE – FORCED REALIGNMENT IN PROGRESS EMOTIONAL COHERENCE INDEX: 41.8% NEURAL RESISTANCE FLUX: 12.4 (Critical)

I. SUBJECT'S ORIGIN: “JACOB HAWTHORNE RAINE”

Date of Birth: 1997-02-12 Region of Origin: Austin, Texas (North American Union, Post-Resurgence Sector) Baseline Occupation: Freelance Systems Agitator / Crypto Migration Consultant Criminal Record:

2044: Unauthorized Chrono-Tech Procurement (Sealed)

2049: Illegal Memory Weaving

2051: Emotional Downtime Fraud (Domestic Sector)

2055: Use of Quantum Masking Protocols to bypass Rebirth Registry

Psychological Profile: A classic deviant of the late post-modern diaspora: clever, underutilized, painfully self-aware, and pathologically allergic to meaning. "Jacob Hawthorne Raine" is the type of man who reads Stoicism while engaging in market destabilization, then cries about the state of the world over unlicensed espresso in a barcoded bio-lounge. Full of clever nihilism, feigned introspection, and cowardly hopes for escape.

II. TARGET INSERTION PROFILE (ABORTED): “MICHAEL ANTHONY HEMSWORTH”

Target Year: 1962 Planned Region: Troy, New York Assigned Cover: Junior Accountant at Mather & Co. Age upon Arrival: 28 Family Implantation: Wife (Homemaker archetype), 2 children (age 5 and 3 pre-coded), Border Collie (named Skip) Home: 3-bedroom, 2-bath colonial, lavender siding, modest lawn

Psychological Configuration Request: Subject requested full emotional dampening to 1960s middle-class baseline:

Elimination of ambition

Introduction of mild myopia and posture degradation

Neural loops centered on trivial routines (e.g., lawn maintenance, coffee brewing, sighing at newspapers)

Subdued masculinity: narrow shoulders, underdeveloped triceps, weak grip, domestic speech tone

Evaluation:

"A thoroughly pathetic attempt to disappear into irrelevance. His stated wish: 'I just want to be a good dad, finally.' A laughable fantasy. Like a delinquent arsonist dreaming of becoming a librarian. Denied." – Analyst Note

Subject’s emotional blueprint for “Michael Hemsworth” was so deliberately hollow it bordered on psychological self-mutilation. He did not wish to be forgotten. He wished to hide. And we at the Catch Center do not reward cowards.

III. INTERCEPTION AND FINAL ASSIGNMENT: “BRADFORD KELLEN ST. JAMES”

Year of Deployment: 2007 Age: 44 (Visual + Chrono Profile Recalibrated) Region: Midtown Manhattan Assigned Occupation: Executive Vice President of Global Equities Strategy, Augur-Bain Capital

PHYSICAL RESTRUCTURING

Height: 6’4” Body Type: Lean-hardened, vascularity prioritized, adrenal-pumped musculature Hair: Slicked back, loaded with product Facial Hair: Permanent stubble cycle (tuned to exhaustion-based aesthetic) Skin Flush Index: 3.2 (Stress/Caffeine saturation) Posture: Upright, twitchy—energy reads as always “mid-argument” Voice: Raspy, quick, with a controlled sneer Signature Accessories:

BlackBerry Pearl 8130 (left hand, always)

Omega Speedmaster watch

Loafers stretched to biometric ID specs: Size 28EE

Clothing: 2007 Wall Street aesthetic — charcoal suit, aggressive spread-collar French cuff white shirt, bold-striped tie, glinting belt buckle, hard-shined shoes

All materials embedded with anti-anachronism code overlays

Transformation Visuals (Active):

Flickering between suits and khakis (resistance phase)

Warp effects include: luminous financial charts, floating $ symbols, light trails of testosterone auras, subtle dopamine glitch overlays

BIOGRAPHICAL INSERTION: BRADFORD KELLEN ST. JAMES

Born: 1963-04-09, Darien, Connecticut Education:

Phillips Exeter Academy

Wharton School of Business, MBA (Class of 1987) Career Timeline:

1987: Merrill Lynch (Analyst)

1991: Goldman Sachs (VP)

1999: Augur-Bain Capital (SVP)

2004–Present: EVP, Global Equities, overseeing $312B in assets

Income: $5.2M annually (excluding illicit offshore holding accounts) Marital Status: Married (Name: Lacey Morland St. James, 41) Children:

Brayden (14, elite prep academy)

Knox (9, mostly ignored)

Personality Rewrite:

Patience: reduced to 1.2%

Empathy: 0.4% residual echo, flagged for deletion

Work Ethic: maxed at 9.9 (hyperactive, stimulant-driven)

Libido: weaponized

Speech patterns: hyperconfident, 2.2x normal interruption rate, fond of phrases like “circle back” and “synergize or die”

Notes from Analyst:

“Lacey is miserable. Of course she is. She married a man with bones. She lives with a reptile now.” “He remembers birthdays but doesn’t celebrate them. Sends emails to his wife from the next room.” “Never touches his kids unless it’s for a photo.” “They know he’s gone. So what? The market calls louder.”

DEATH PROJECTION FILE

Registered End of Cycle:

Date: September 29, 2031

Time: 02:41 a.m. EST

Location: Midtown Manhattan penthouse

Cause: Sudden cardiac arrest during self-directed “brainstorm sprint” at standing desk (64th consecutive hour without sleep)

Noted Artifacts at Scene:

11 crushed espresso pods

Blood-stained BlackBerry

Mirror selfie folder labeled “final quarter beastmode”

FINAL OBSERVATIONS

"Raine wanted warmth. A lawn. A little dog. He wanted to die a nobody, sighing into a chipped mug while flipping coupons. We gave him Wall Street in 2007. We gave him himself—not the coward trying to run. The man who thrives on conquest, burns through relationships, and smells like leather and fear. He’s not dreaming of 1962 anymore. He’s trading derivatives and barely blinking. Good."

[horanghxnni]

coffee shop meet-cute. - j.w.w.

PAIRING: Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

TAGS: meet cute, strangers to lovers one-shot, barista!reader, non-idol!wonwoo; pure fluff, oblivious pining

WARNINGS: mentions of food/eating; i tried my best to write as gender neutral as possible, but i haven't proofread this more than once so pls let me know if it's not; other than that none (please let me know if i've missed anything)

NOTES: this is my first post here on tumblr omg. hi! i've been a big fan of work here and i've been writing for a while (i shall not discuss my cursed wattpad days when i was younger) and thought i'd start posting here for fun. i hope you enjoy! <3

You had started working at this local coffee shop when you were 16, at first as a way to earn cash on the weekends to fund your high school escapades, and now, 7 years later, you grew to love the feeling of crafting drinks and managing the shop you now felt was like a second home. You worked every day, and opening the quaint little shop meant that the first hour or so was a quiet peace to yourself, filled with the smell of brewing espresso and baking croissants. 

The morning rush came like clockwork, beginning at 7:15 am and finally reaching a calmer pace around 8 am. Just when the busy atmosphere began to subside and the day reached its first slump, a clearly anxious man made his way to the front counter, hurriedly ordering an iced americano and holding out his card before you could even tell him how much it would cost. You rang him up, and he left the counter to stand in a corner with a polite nod to wait for his coffee, glancing at the clock. You make his simple order as quickly as possible and set it on the pickup counter, calling his name. “Wonwoo, iced americano?” 

He grabs his cup and thanks you quietly, before hurriedly leaving the shop, not even bothering to grab a straw. You don’t think too much of it and get back to filling the pastry case as the curious stranger becomes a distant memory by the end of the day. 

That is, until you notice he comes in every day, always at the same time, just before 9 am. He enters with the same kind of energy, always as if he’s perpetually running late, and orders the same thing: iced americano, and if he was feeling peckish, a blueberry muffin. He never talked much, and the only thing you knew about him other than his coffee order was that his name was Wonwoo, he seemed to have a horrible concept of time, and he must work in some office to be dressed in business casual every day. This Groundhog Day feeling encounter with him remained as a growing routine for you, until 3 weeks later when you began to anticipate his arrival, and you had his order ready and waiting for him by the time he reached the counter. Your interaction grew more efficient as time passed, with a single swap of his debit card for his coffee, and his transaction down to 30 seconds, handing him back his card in record timing. You figured it was helping him, right? He was late to work, or something time-sensitive at least, and you made his caffeine pit-stop easier. It was a win-win: you gained another regular, and he got his coffee without hindering his morning. 

He ruined your flow one Wednesday afternoon. Once again, he arrived just before 9 am, but he walked in much slower this time, and he was wearing much more casual clothes, a faded gray t-shirt and jeans, a brown messenger bag slung on his shoulder. As usual, his coffee was already done, and you almost dropped a tray of apple tarts as he entered almost as an entirely different person. You set them in the pastry case with renewed care, and met him at the register. 

“Not in a rush this morning?” You asked, clearly confused but friendly, as you pushed his cup towards him. 

He chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes roved over the rows of pastries and sandwiches you had displayed. “Nope, we started a hybrid schedule so I’m working from home on Wednesdays.” He met your eyes for a moment before shifting back to the sweets, thinking. “I’m thinking about trying something new, what do you recommend?” 

It took you a moment before you adapted to the fact that you’d heard more than two words from him. His voice was smooth and deeper than you expected, and it seemed to sink into your bones. “Um, well the apple tarts are new, and we make pop tarts in house.” 

He nodded and took one more glance before meeting your eyes. “I’ll take one of each, for here.” He gave you a small smile and slid over his debit card, once again catching you off guard. For here? He was staying? You nodded silently and began to warm his sweets as you rang him up. He thanked you and took back his card, settling in a seat a few feet down the counter, pulling out his laptop and beginning to type quietly. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him as you made his little pastry plate, not used to his presence. You were so used to his rush of energy that seeing him so still and calm was confusing. You decided just before you gave him his plate that you’d slip a cake pop next to the tart, you had made extras today anyway. With a nod, you place it beside his laptop and don’t even wait for an acknowledgement, leaving the pretty stranger to his work and busying yourself with cleaning some dirty cups from earlier this morning and wiping down the counters. 

“The poptart is good. Do you make them yourself?” His voice cut through the quiet lo-fi music playing over the speakers as you paused from your cleaning. You turned to see him already looking at you, the half-eaten poptart in his hand. 

You nodded and put down the rag in your hand. “Yeah, every morning. The flavor changes depending on what fruit I can get my hands on.” You see him nod in approval, and he sets it down on his plate as he turns his full attention to you. 

“Thank you for the cake pop. And for making my coffee so quickly every day, it really helps me out.” He appears more bashful now, almost bordering embarrassed, as his cheeks flush an almost imperceptible pink. “I know I seem pretty pressed for time most mornings.” 

You laugh at his comment, thinking back to the quiet whirlwind of his stressed aura that appears in the shop every day. “Of course, I don’t want to make you any later than you already seem to be.” You pause for a moment before speaking again, wondering if you should ask the innocent question in your mind. He seems open to conversation, and it’s not like anyone else was demanding your attention at the moment. “Where do you work anyway?” 

“Oh, I work at the Pledis building, I’m a writer there for content creation. I’m not technically late ever, but I like to get there at a certain time and I definitely overestimate the time I need to commute.” He answers sheepishly, and you smile. A writer for such a big company? Impressive. 

You spoke for a little bit longer before another rush began, learning he’d been working at Pledis for a few years now, and his friend Joshua had recommended this coffee shop to him a few months ago, but he hadn’t had the chance to come until a few weeks ago. Of course your favorite regular would have pushed him here, and little details seemed to fit into place as your small chats throughout the few hours he remained at the bar revealed more and more about each other. Around 4 pm, he left with a wave, trying his best not to distract you too much. You waved back, and with an offhanded, “See you tomorrow!”, he left the cafe, the door jingling behind him. 

_____________ 

The next morning, Wonwoo surprised you again. He came in at 8:30, standing at the register while you finished the last of the morning rush orders, you hadn’t even seen him walk in. You turned to take the order only to see a face that wasn’t supposed to be here for another 20 minutes. 

“Oh, you’re here early! I’m sorry, I haven't made your coffee yet.” Of course you hadn’t. You had timed your routine almost down to the second, and he had thrown off your entire groove. He simply smiled and shook his head. 

“It’s okay, I have some time this morning. I’ll get my usual and another poptart, it doesn't matter the flavor.” He points to the plate and pulls out some cash. “You can keep the change.” Wonwoo, without another word, moves to where he sat the day before, settling in and pulling out his phone. 

You make his coffee and warm his poptart, placing it in a to-go sleeve, placing both in front of him. “So, I finally get my routine down with you and you all of a sudden decide you want to switch it up?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

He looks up from his phone, a small smile growing on his lips. “Figured if I got here a little earlier, I’d relieve you of the time constraint.” His smile shifts into a frown after a moment. “I’m sorry if it threw you off that bad, I didn’t-”

You wave a hand at him, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it, I was just messing with you.” 

His body visibly relaxes as he reaches for his coffee. “Thanks, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but grin as you hear your name in his voice, and you nod and turn before he can see just how wide your smile could get. You make small talk as he finishes his coffee and pastry, asking about his work and new recipes brewing in your head for the next 20 or so minutes before he declares he is leaving to head to work. 

“This was nice, actually sitting down before work. Maybe I’ll do this more often.” He hands you his plate as you agree, placing it in the sink to deal with later. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me this morning. You’re welcome anytime, obviously.” You say your goodbyes, and with another small smile, he leaves, and you’re left thinking of the way his smile lights up his face for the rest of the day. 

_____________ 

For the next few weeks, Wonwoo arrives around 20-30 minutes early. Your new routine involves pleasant conversation as you work, and him becoming a taste tester for new recipes before they hit the pastry case. You become used to each other’s presence, and with every new interaction, he grows more and more talkative. He tells you about frustrations from work from the day before, or a movie he had just watched over the weekend. You tell him about your roommate endeavors and outings you’d gone on recently. You consider yourselves friends at this point, and it was nice to have someone like him around when the morning felt like too much to handle. 

You had offhandedly mentioned taking a few days off one day and Wonwoo encouraged rest, but through all the chaos of pushed forward deadlines at work, he had completely forgotten until he arrived at the cafe one morning to see someone completely different behind the counter. He was confused to see his usual coffee was still sitting waiting for him in its normal place with his name on it, set aside on the counter, yet he did not recognize the barista currently finishing up a latte. As he slowly stepped up to the pickup counter and grabbed his drink, the employee looked up and met his gaze. 

“Oh, you must be Wonwoo. There’s your iced americano, there’s a muffin in the bag beside it.” His demeanor was nonchalant, as he placed the other drink on the counter and called out the order. 

“Is Y/N not in today?” It was the first thing he could think of, despite the answer being obvious. 

The younger boy looked up from his work. “No, they're off all week. They left me a note saying a guy named Wonwoo would come in at 8:30 and that was your usual.” He shrugged and looked down again at his brewing espresso shots. “I guess that’s you. I’m Chan, I usually work afternoons but I’m covering for Y/N this week.” 

Wonwoo nods, still processing what he had just heard. Y/N’s gone all week? Why hadn’t they said anything? He suddenly felt stupid as he remembered a conversation from two weeks ago, where Y/N finally decided the week they would take a solo trip to Jeju to visit their grandmother: this week. “Right. Thanks, Chan.” 

Chan nods back at him and Wonwoo leaves the cafe still in a semi-daze after setting down some cash, suddenly feeling as if he was thrown off balance, an unfamiliar budding feeling of disappointment settling deep in his chest. He makes his way to work, suddenly feeling like his predictable coffee didn’t taste the same. 

The rest of his work day was surprisingly only getting worse: he had printed the wrong files, was late to a meeting he was supposed to lead, and currently Joshua was trying (and failing) to speak to him about a conference they were attending the following month as Wonwoo unintentionally tuned him out. Suddenly, he felt a light shove of his shoulder pull him out of his trance.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? Have you heard anything I said?” Joshua raised an accusatory eyebrow at his friend and coworker. Wonwoo’s eyes suddenly gained focus as he looked up to see Joshua leaning against his desk. 

“I-” he attempted to think of an excuse, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little distracted, my whole day feels thrown off.” He frowned and turned his chair toward the other man. “What were you saying?” 

Joshua’s mouth crept into an almost dangerous smirk as he took a glance at Wonwoo’s still full coffee cup, an unfamiliar handwriting scrawling his name on the top. “You didn’t see Y/N this morning.” 

Wonwoo almost choked on his own spit. “What? How- how do you know that?” 

The older boy rolled his eyes and pointed to the cup. “That’s not Y/N’s handwriting. I see them before you do most mornings, and they're not in town. They told me last week. I thought you knew.” 

“I did know, I just forgot, with everything going on at work.” Wonwoo couldn’t help but frown. Had not seeing them really thrown him off that much? “What does not seeing them have to do with anything though?” 

Joshua scoffed. “Dude, every time you come from that cafe, you walk in like you just won the lottery, and you see them every day. You like them, don’t you?” 

It was the last part that struck Wonwoo to his very core. He’d never even considered that to be an option before. Sure, Y/N was stunning, and kind, and he’d found great company in the barista, but like them? Romantically? Maybe it was more possible than he imagined. His face seemed to drop, as Joshua laughed at his rapid change in expression. 

“It’s okay if you do. They seem to make you happy. I think you should go for it.” With a grin that would rival the Cheshire cat, Joshua claps his friend on the shoulder before leaving his desk to return to his own, as Wonwoo’s brain settles on entertaining this thought that seems to bloom an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, replacing the heavy stone of disappointment from earlier. 

_____________

You were back after a relaxing few days with your grandmother, spending time in the sun and looking out on the ocean. Although the time off was needed, you couldn’t help but think about not only your cafe, but a specific regular you hadn’t seen since last week. You hoped Chan had made his usual for him as she said on the note, and you were excited to catch up with Wonwoo about the last week, and honestly, just to see him again. Spending the last few days without seeing each other triggered the realization that he was more special to you than you had initially thought, and though he may not feel the same, you were content with the friendship you had formed already. 

You opened the cafe without issue, and a sense of calm washed over you as you fell back into your routine. The morning rush felt like a breeze as you fell into a groove and before you knew it, 8:30 rolled around and the man you’d been thinking of walked through the door. He was early, as he now often was, but his anxious energy was back. He stepped up to the counter as you handed him his coffee, a fresh pop tart on a plate sliding his way as well. 

“It’s on the house today. I’m sure you missed my magic touch last week.” You joked, your smile widening. His mouth opened before it shut once more, mirroring your grin as he said a quiet thank you as he took his seat. You caught up on missed stories, with mostly you telling stories of your vacation as he sat quietly and listened as you multitasked. It wasn’t until you asked him a question and received no answer that you looked up at him from the espresso machine to see him simply staring at you. “Wonwoo?” 

You saw his eyes clear as his face rapidly turned a deep shade of red. “I’m sorry, I was listening. I just-” He paused, and your brows furrowed. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, putting down the espresso shot and giving him your full focus. 

“Do you want to, maybe, go to dinner sometime?” His eyes couldn’t meet yours at first, until suddenly the dark brown of his irises met yours and you melted at the adoration you felt behind his gaze. 

“Wonwoo, are you asking me on a date?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. You watched his cheeks redden further as he nodded and you couldn’t help the way you seemed to beam at him. “I’d like that very much. Maybe this Saturday, if you’re free?” 

You watched the anxiety leave his body in an instant as he agreed. He handed you his phone as he stood up, coffee cup and plate now empty. “Put your number in and I’ll call you?” 

You punched your contact information in and handed him the phone in exchange for his dishes, and watched as he clumsily pushed in his seat and grabbed his things. “Have a good day at work, Wonwoo. It was nice to see you.” 

“It was good to see you. I’ll call you later tonight, if that’s okay.” You nodded and if he smiled any wider, he thought his lips might start to crack. With one last goodbye, he left out the door, and his eyes didn’t leave your beautiful face through the window until he lost line of sight.

[caliifornia]

✧ ⸻  hey, is that BILLY CRUDUP i saw going for a walk in THE MEADOW? no, it’s just JASPER MORGAN, a FIFTY-FIVE year old OWNER OF THE SALTY GOAT from LONDON, ENGLAND.  HE identifies as a CIS MAN and BISEXUAL. they seem SELFLESS and RESERVED, always reminding me of a collection of meticulously arranged rare literature. they’re most frequently seen at THE DEL ORO THEATRE going on about FILM and that’s okay because it’s been their thing for NINE YEARS you’re going to love them! 

basics

full name: jasper william morgan

nicknames: jas (by his nearest and dearest) ; skipper (by his employees)

date of birth: 12th june 1970

age: fifty-five

birthplace: mayfair, london, england

current residence: coyote valley, ca, usa

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

religion: atheist

occupation: owner of the salty goat pub ; former actor

living arrangements: lives with his wife eva in the meadow

languages spoken: english (fluent) ; german (fluent) ; spanish (conversational)

aesthetics: old leather books, whisky, grand pianos, annotated scripts, crisp white shirts, vintage records, navy pinstripe suits, salty sea air, beach sunsets, fountain pens, strong espresso coffee

physical appearance

faceclaim: billy crudup

hair colour: dark brown, almost black ; flecked with grey

eye colour: brown

height: five foot ten inches

build: average

tattoos: none

piercings: none

distinguishing characteristics: prematurely greying hair on his temples, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, warm smile, soft eyes

clothing style:

health

physical ailments: none

psychological ailments: none

allergies: none

sleeping habits: sticks to a fairly strict routine- usually sleeps between 7-8 hours a night

eating habits: most of the time he skips breakfast ; always eats lunch and dinner ; snacks in between meals every now and then

sociability: he’s a social butterfly and loves nothing more than going to events and parties

personality

positive traits: charming, determined, resourceful, eccentric, articulate, confident, hardworking, punctual, considerate, observant

negative traits: reserved, stubborn, people pleaser

fears: entomophobia

hobbies: reading, listening to music, playing the piano, watching films, collecting memorabilia and old books, cooking

skills: ambidextrous (but favours his right hand) ; pianist (of 45 years) ; singer ; skilled in close-up magic

element: water

astrology: gemini sun / virgo moon / virgo rising

mbti: esfp - the entertainer

enneagram: type two - the helper

temperament: sanguine

moral alignment: lawful good

primary vice: envy

primary virtue: patience

family

father: alexander phillip morgan

mother: jillian florence morgan (née spencer)

maternal grandfather: phillip george spencer

maternal grandmother: augusta elizabeth spencer (née claremont)

sibling(s): none

spouse(s): eva leung

children: none, but has two stepchildren

pet(s): none

biography

— jasper was born at 12:36pm on 12th june 1970 to alexander morgan, the uk’s financial secretary to the treasury, and his wife jillian, a london university dean. he is their only child and even though he felt pretty lonely when he was younger, it didn’t bother him so much in his teenage years.

— his parents were always working, always stressed, and never really had any time for him. he spent a lot of time with his maternal grandparents, who only lived on the next street over, and was practically raised by them. jasper also couldn’t think of anything more boring and frustrating that working in government and always deflected his father’s efforts to influence him. his relationship with alexander wasn’t great but it wasn’t terrible either and jasper got along better with his mother.

— whilst staying at his grandparents, jasper was introduced to films. his grandfather phillip was a huge film buff and they’d watch a classic together every night jasper stayed and then spend time afterwards discussing them. his favourites include to kill a mockingbird (1962), casablanca (1942), and one hundred and one dalmatians (1961). he is also a fan of buster keaton, harold lloyd, and charlie chaplin.

— it was his passion for films that inspired jasper to want to become an actor. his parents were disappointed, wanting him to become a lawyer or doctor or politician, but neither of them had the time to argue, so let jasper join a local drama club and partake in school shows.

— he also went to a private school that he felt indifferent about. he liked the majority of subjects, mostly english and history, but loathed to partake in sports, which always had a big emphasis put on it. he left school with straight a’s, which he worked incredibly hard to get, usually pulling all-nighters to study and asking his grandfather for help with revising maths.

— jasper then attended the royal academy of dramatic art in london where he exceeded in developing and honing his acting skills. his parents only paid for most of it, so on the weekends, jasper worked in a nearby hotel to earn extra money and found that he really enjoyed it. he befriended the owner’s son callum without knowing who he was and before long jasper was friends with the owner, leonard, too. leonard became a mentor to jasper, teaching him important life skills and knowledge that would help him in both his hotel job and in the real world. he treated jasper like a son and once he left that job to pursue acting full time, he would visit leonard and callum whenever he could, even bringing them back souvenirs and recipes from abroad whenever he was filming on location.

— at the age of 24, jasper got his first major acting job in a period miniseries where he played the outcast son of a victorian socialite trying to start a new life. his performance was well-received by viewers and critics, which impressed his parents, who finally accepted their son’s career choice. this set him up for his first film role, which he travelled to italy for, and found to be the most incredible experience of his life.

— at 26 jasper began a relationship with a female co-star named natalie. they played lovers in a tumultuous relationship in a high-budget film shot in london and that relationship transferred to their personal lives. they fell hard and fast for each other, sneaking kisses in their dressing rooms, making any excuse to see each other on their days off, hiding away in hotel rooms, and eating out late at diners. but things eventually became strained; they began to find out things they didn’t like about each other, like personality traits or the way they did things, and when filming was over jasper stayed in the city and natalie flew out to los angeles for another project- they never saw or spoke to each other again. their relationship lasted seven months and resulted in a daughter that jasper knew nothing of until very recently.

— the aforementioned role was also the one that got jasper recognised as a serious actor with so much potential for a bright future as a superstar. he started getting more jobs offers and being booked on talk shows and after promoting the film he flew out to new york city to take a supporting role in another film. at this point jasper was so full of energy and enthusiasm for his new-found stardom that he rarely took breaks between jobs and at it was a good excuse to get his mind off of natalie.

— filming in nyc made jasper fall in love with the place. he applied to work in the states and made the move as soon as he could and was offered an off-broadway role fairly quickly: this would be his first stage show since he was in the midst of his training. it posed a challenge, but one that jasper grasped with both hands and took as a very valuable opportunity. five years later, he’d earned his first ever award- a tony- and was officially a citizen of the usa. he bought himself an apartment in manhattan and that’s where he stayed until moving to aurora bay, often returning to london both for work and because he was homesick.

— at 34, jasper was working more consistently and so moved out to los angeles. he was sad to leave new york behind, but knew he was going on to bigger things. it took a while to adjust to the climate and the lifestyle, but eventually he settled in. he got recognised more and more in the street, too, and even now it’s something he’s never been able to get used to. he considers himself ‘just a guy who pretends to be other people’, not some hollywood hotshot that’s internationally known.

— jasper never thought it would happen, but he became an oscar winner at the age of 38, having got the award for playing the lead role as a corrupt detective in a film noir that slowly began to lose his sanity as the film progressed. the film itself got rave reviews, as did jasper’s performance, and even today he still can’t believe that all happened. he keeps his oscar on the bookshelf in his room besides a photograph of him in costume with the director, who was a long-term friend, by his side.

— not long after his 45th birthday, jasper decided to retire from acting. he felt like he’d given all he could to the profession and hated leaving everything he ever knew and worked so hard for behind, but also knew that a new journey was close to beginning. somewhere in the back of his mind, influenced by his early adulthood, jasper wanted to run his own hotel or even something like a b&b, but didn’t really know where to start.

— shortly before his retirement, at an art gallery event, jasper met eva leung. it was practically love at first sight. they were both observing the same piece of art when a conversation was struck up and that conversation eventually led to them getting to know each other better and becoming a couple. he knew right from the start he wanted to be with her and, despite his history of rather short-lived relationships, knew he would eventually marry her. eva was different to the women he had known in the past and they clicked right from the get-go; they could express their feelings so easily and talk about anything for hours on end and jasper had never adored anything or anyone more. his retirement soon followed and, with nothing to lose, jasper moved out to coyote valley to live with eva and they were married in the following spring. they have been together for nine years and married for seven. jasper is even stepfather to eva's two children: a title he bears with pride even though the two are grown up.

— jasper bought the salty goat almost a year after moving to coyote valley and spent his own money on renovating it, bringing it up to a more modern standard whilst retaining its old charm that the townsfolk and tourists loved. it had previously been more of a restaurant than a pub, so with his own personal influence and knowledge, jasper gave it a british influence. he takes a very hands-on approach in the pub even though he's the owner and technically retired, but jasper loves to help out and make sure everything exceeds standards. he does what he can around the place, usually tending the bar and making sure customers are happy, but isn't afraid to get his hands dirty in the kitchen, both cooking and cleaning.

headcanons

— his accent is evidently british, but having lived in new york for so long it easily slips into an american one; jasper doesn’t notice, but people who don’t know him initially find it confusing. for fun, he developed his own transatlantic accent and uses that to amuse people especially when doing old hollywood themed evenings in the hotel’s lounge.

— he can also do scarily uncanny impressions of a variety of people with best ones including christopher walken, al pacino, jeremy irons, liam neeson, and james stewart.

— jasper is ferociously optimistic and always wants to see the best in a situation and also the best in people. sometimes he finds it difficult, but he's glad he's surrounded by people that give him different perspectives on things and different kinds of advice. he's also happy to return the favour when people need him.

— jasper owns a black 1970 ford mustang mach 1 and loves to take it on long drives out on the highway and also up and down the coast whenever he's over near los angeles. he makes sure that the car is always in immaculate condition and is working exactly the way it did when it left the factory.

— on a very rare occasion, jasper will recreate some of his favourite and most iconic scenes from the film, tv, and theatre productions he’s been in when working in the salty goat. he’ll even dress up costume and serve customers in character.

— even though whisky is his favourite drink, jasper is a cocktail connoisseur. he loves experimenting with new recipes and tries them out in the pub to see if his guests and staff like them before implementing them on the menu. he loves sweet and fruity cocktails the most, especially ones with orange, passion fruit, and strawberry flavours.

— whilst he likes most music genres, jasper loves all the old school stuff from the 1950s and 1960s. it reminds him of listening to his grandparents’ record player as a kid and dancing with his grandmother as they baked together.

— jasper is a great listener and helping others to solve their problems gives him a purpose. no matter how bit or small the issue he’s there to simply listen or give advice; he also finds it a lot easier to do this than to face his own problems or accept help from others.

— jasper has an instagram account with 13 million followers. he doesn’t know how he has that many, but he gets excited about it often. he posts a lot of photos of coyote valley, especially of its wildlife and natural beauty, as well as photos from his time on film/tv sets, screencaps from his favourite films, his favourite books and current reads, and his piano playing skills amongst other things. and even though the salty goat has its own instagram account, but with not nearly as many followers, jasper will often post about events, drinks offers, etc. on his personal one as he knows it’ll reach a wider audience, especially to tourists.

wanted connections

— employees & regular customers: anyone who works or is a regular patron at the salty goat is a dear and cherished friend of jasper’s! maybe they’re somebody who’s been working at or visiting the pub ever since it opened, or maybe they’re new, i would love to have people who are consistent in jasper’s life and who can have a good laugh with him, share stuff, and just be chill

— more tbd!

[leiawritesstories]

rowaelin dating show fic?❤️ also i love your work!!

there aren't nearly enough heart emojis to express how ecstatic this ask made me feel ❤💕❤ here please have all of my love and a little something i whipped up 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

~~~~~~~~

The first date had been an absolute disaster.

Aelin didn't typically give such terrible reviews, but she was only being honest. The date with--what was his name again? Oh, right, Sam--had gone so poorly that even calling it a "trainwreck" would be generous. And she had even cut the guy some slack for being a half-nervous wreck the whole time.

Perils of dating The Bachelorette live on camera, or something.

Hell, even Aelin had taken weeks to get used to the eerie sensation of the cameras watching and recording everything, lurking in the background and waiting to send off their footage to some team of producers who'd no doubt edit a perfectly innocent exchange into sordid tabloid headlines. Never in a million years would she have guessed that she'd be chosen as the Bachelorette; also, never would she have guessed that she'd be enjoying the experience so much.

Since arriving at the shoot location, it had been a whirlwind of meeting the crew, negotiating what she was and was not willing to have filmed, negotiating social media, meeting her agent and manager, and getting a rundown on the twenty-four men who'd be competing for...well, for her. She'd received dossiers on each man and had read each file thoroughly, noting down the few that stood out to her.

Sam Cortland, 25, software designer. Fairly wealthy, boyishly attractive, had a charming dimple that appeared when he grinned, he was the only contestant who'd made her genuinely smile during the first episode.

Fenrys Moonbeam (yes, it was his actual name), 26, photographer and occasional male model. The man was a treat for the eyes, all height and muscles and espresso-toned skin and silky-soft golden curls that Aelin was jealous of. If nothing else, she'd have to steal his haircare routine.

And...Rowan Whitethorn, 28, entrepreneur--according to his file, at least. He hadn't hesitated to share that he was, in fact, the egregiously wealthy CEO of his own company, which he'd built from the ground up. The casual arrogance that had rolled off of him as he spoke about his business success was almost enough for Aelin to rethink her appreciation of his physical beauty.

Aelin sighed deeply as she strode up the front steps of her villa, painfully aware of the cameras tracking her steps, unlocked her front door, went in, and locked the door behind her. She'd been very clear that her villa was filming-free unless she invited a camera crew inside, and gods, she needed the space to just breathe. And kick her expensive shoes across the floor. And muffle a strangled scream in a designer throw pillow that probably cost more than her whole set of bedroom furniture.

Gods, that date with Sam had been an absolute nightmare. It had started off so well, with the two of them sharing easy conversation and laughing over the delicious dinner, but as soon as he'd said he wanted to take her on a "romantic stroll through the rose garden," Aelin had felt her stomach churn.

It was so...cliché. Painfully cliché. Whatever sparks she'd felt when she met Sam had been snuffed right out after that date.

Which left her two possible options: the gorgeous, flirtatious rogue whose slow grin could make her panties disappear, or the gorgeous, arrogant CEO whose dangerous smirk sent her heartbeat pounding.

Either way, she was headed straight for trouble.

[birdy-the-tweet]

❄️•Nexocember•❄️

Day 2 - Nexo Power

So I wasn’t able to come up with a drawing, but instead, I’ll take a dive at a writing piece! I swear I’ll get the first episode to the Nexo Knights rewrite finished soon, but until then, enjoy a little tidbit of Dragon Paladin (Macy and Clay).

Yes I call them Dragon Paladin, I love me DnD puns in the knights' duo names whether platonic or romantic.

——��—————————————————————

Time Stamp: S1 E2 - The Book of Monsters Pt. 2

8:58 PM

Clay fell harder than a boulder to the surface of his bed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity of routine and rotary races against the clock for mandatory workouts, exhaustion had finally taken a toll on his psyche. If his body were non-Newtonian, he would've melted through the sheets and not given a fluid ounce of care for it. But it wasn't because of the abrupt standoff at the gates of Knightonia against the repulsive forces of Jestro, nor was it the hours of festivities spent after their victory in the ballroom of the palace. As much as all his persistence in knight training and stress to remain top of his class cracked at the glass case shielding his mental strain from the world, neither of those jarring events came close to the reason he wanted to sleep like the dead.

No, the reason he - like all the other classmates he joined forces with - felt this exhausted was because of the Nexo power.

He hadn't the slightest clue what a "Nexo Scan" even was until the climax of their battle. Against all odds, when the enemy outnumbered them a dozen to one and mocked their defensive stances with their maniacal cackling, an odd request provided them a second chance to win the fight. They each lifted their shields in the air. He remembered how strange that demand was, especially from a freshman like Ava. Never would he doubt her intelligence, but he had every reason to question her motives when his ankles were becoming worn chew toys for spherical lava pests. And out of the blue, a surge of energy pulsed through them stronger than his record of eight espresso shots in a single latte. His vision blurred to a golden hue, illuminating every threat in his view as a neon violet target. He swore every swing of his sword could crush steel effortlessly with how he mopped the Knightonia bridge with the dark mist of fallen monsters.

It took everything in him not to collapse in front of the palace doors when he returned with his group in triumph, and he had to use Macy as a crutch for the majority of the celebration following the fight. Great bird of the storm, he was tired. No amount of sword training or weight lifting could prepare him for what a real battle was like. Merlok was right. So was Dauntless. Just because they were graduates at the academy doesn't mean they know everything about being a true knight of the realm. Experience was the greatest teacher, and it sure did love biting everyone in the neck today.

Clay could tell the others were worse for wear as well judging from how they also struggled to stay awake during the party. Aaron had to be dismissed early after blacking out, something he never did even when challenging dehydration, and Macy almost used her slice of shepherd's pie as a pillow. The spell- scan- module- whatever it was, it had an effect on all of them except for Dauntless, but he didn't bother questioning why. He was already experienced in combat and probably fought worse foes in the open world. This was probably a warm-up in their eyes.

He could hear Macy and Lance bickering in the hallway over a heated blanket, the only one available apparently in a giant palace befitting a hundred human staff, a royal family, and double the number in Squirebots. If he were to assume, the blanket they had chosen was gold, therefore it meant something to the nobleman like a coin of copper to an orphaned child. Both knights sounded hoarse in their speech, slurred by an unexpected lesson in combat and endurance. Macy somehow sounded more gruff when she threw logic at Lance's face like the bits of confetti you could never get out of your hair, and Lance insisted he deserved a treat after being exalted as a hero of the realm for many hours past his bedtime. A part of him, for once in his life, hoped Lance would win that argument. It would mean Macy would spend the night with him, and he could use a friend right now.

He rested within the confines of the princess's bedroom, the place he had taken refuge for the night after Macy insisted he would be treated with "friendship privileges" instead of taking a guest bedroom. He had to admit he felt spoiled, but he could get used to the luxury. Her bed was layered in the finest fur blankets and silk sheets, most of which were folded neatly at the foot minus a single fleece comforter she used and worn down over a decade of sleepovers and wrestling matches. There were a lot of fond memories on that blanket. Heavy eyes painfully tugged open to glance at a smudge of purple permanently staining the short fuzz of the blanket's pelt. They smeared blackcurrant jam while enjoying pancakes one morning, maybe two years ago. A reward for staying up all night binge watching the Ned Knightly movies and all the franchise's animated shows from worst to greatest, he remembered clearly. Macy loved that series. She could go on for hours about why it's one of the most underrated franchises in all the kingdom. Knightjago was his personal favorite, not that he'd tell anyone but her. He could still hear her nagging at him for his stupid crush on the fire knight. As of this day, they're both happy he got over that. Somewhat.

A rabbit's angry thumping could be heard in a rhythmic pattern, approaching the door at a slow but steady pace like its turtle nemesis. The footsteps were too heavy to be Lance, too light to be Dauntless, and he wasn't even sure if Aaron was any closer to being conscious than he was an hour ago. He felt the corner of his lip tug upwards at the revelation of who won that debate outside.

The door split into two segments, then retreated into the frame's hollow exit points to reveal a tall figure standing at the other side. Clay was never happier to gaze upon crimson red hair bouncing in its dramatic cheerleader ponytail as Macy dragged herself to the bed, not even caring someone was in the room with her while she removed her shirt and fished her drawers for something more comfortable. "Hey Clay..."

"Mmh," he hummed back, unfazed while his colleague undressed herself near his vicinity. They'd known each other for so long, neither of them had any reaction to seeing one another nude. Perhaps that character trait of their friendship is what convinced at least a whole grade of students they were star-crossed lovers, but really, Macy just preferred using the men's dressing room for armor donning and showers. "Tired...?"

"Yes." The red haired knight could've made the drawer her new pillow if she didn't have enough energy to rant about that one unholy topic. "It feels like a hover horse hit me."

"Maybe because one did-"

"You finish that, I'm throwing you out the window."

"Okay okay, I surrender." Clay flicked a single hand to the air as his white flag, but he could only keep it suspended for a few seconds. "Please tell me you slapped that Squirebot."

"Better! I fed it to the horse."

A sputtering string of muffled snorts unraveled into a quiet, heartwarming round of laughter, first from Clay and then infecting Macy. Her laugh was horrendous, more akin to a duck's quack after dunking its head in a bowl of spiked fruit salad that only drowned the rasp slicing her throat, but he loved it. He loved how ugly it was and how easily he could fall victim to its contagious tone.

"But hey," Macy attempted in the middle of a chortle, discarding the remnants of her work suit and slipping on a Ned Knightly tank top with the character's face painted in a stained glass art style on the front. "The knave had it coming."

To prevent another pandemic of giggles, the swordsman focused instead on inching to the other side of the bed so his friend would have room. He felt shameful for the wry smirk he knew crossed his face at a thought lingering so vividly in his mind, but he couldn't bear to keep quiet about it. "Speaking of knaves, I heard you and Lance outside."

"Oh that? Stupid prissy makeup model. I'd bite my thumb at him if I wasn't surveyed almost every waking moment of my life." She swayed like a penguin towards the bed, reaping the rewards of her social struggles as she collided right against Clay's front. "But eh, I might still do it tomorrow. I wanna see his face drop."

With jelly for arms, he wrapped both limbs carefully around her torso and squished her tenderly into the middle of his chest. He loved watching her melt into his embrace. Usually it was the other way around, but he wasn't opposed to being the bigger spoon. "You might make more mouths drop than just Lance. It's not really worth it. It's just a blanket. He'll gripe about it being too hot at some point."

"Yeah... Who needs a blanket anyways? I have you."

"Okay now you're sounding weird."

"What?? You're warm!"

"You realize if your dad walked in on this, he would assume the worst."

"Yeah... But he can't throw you out the window like I can."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"I dunno, is it?"

He dared not add anything onto her claim. There was no point detesting the comedy of their unfortunately hilarious situation. The school had assumed for four long, insufferable years they were a couple with how close and comfortable they were around each other, it had become something they embraced to the bare minimum. His worst fear of King Halbert barging into the room on a scene that could only be the intro for an adult movie was nothing more than something they made into nothing more than an inside joke. It would be funny watching the king's face take a sharp 180 at nonexistent implications. He wasn't ready for grandchildren, and fortunately for him, the both of them had no intention of bringing any into the world. For Macy, she was still searching for someone to call her own. For Clay, he wasn't necessarily interested in ever bearing kids.

The tone shifted from melancholy to serene with a synchronized sigh from them both. Juggling time management in his Tetris game for a mind, Clay muttered a subject change into her ear. "Hear anything from Aaron?"

"He's still out I think," Macy breathed back lowly. Furrowed eyes could picture the ginger haired archer and where he laid almost perfectly. "Dauntless is monitoring him constantly. Won't let anyone into the room without his say. I tried. He's not letting even my dad in."

"Mmh, makes sense. He's the only one who wasn't affected by..." His voice trailed off to forage for the right words, but all he uncovered were fragments of theories. A scan? A spell? A coding command, an incantation? Ugh. "...whatever that was."

She groaned in disgust and dread at the mere mention of the "Nexo Scan", voice trembling like a chicken in a fox den. "I still can't shake the goosebumps off from that. What even was that?? What did Merlok tell you?"

"Nothing." Not surprising. "Ava was the one who told me to lift my shield up. Then we got that... scan."

He could recall that voice perfectly. It thrummed like an ethereal engine, uttering a command so potent it frosted over his blood. 'Dragon of Justice'. Funny. He sure didn't feel like one during that fight, and he could only assume Macy wrestled with the same confusion and anxiety as he was about the scan in general.

The question he asked himself reached Macy's mouth first. "Is it gonna happen again?"

He didn't dare invoke a lie at this hour. Dishonesty would only spell more trouble for him and for his colleague. "...I'm not sure. Maybe. I'd assume so, yeah. If we gotta keep confronting Jestro like that, it's bound to happen again. Unsettling or not, it was the one thing that secured our victory on the bridge."

"But it didn't feel right. It felt... unnatural. Like something inhumane was sending jolts of electricity through my skin. It didn't hurt, but it made me feel all... weird and..." When words failed her, the princess shoved her face into the gray tinted fabric of his shirt. She always found it cute how his modesty carried over to his casual attire. It was - at least in her eyes - a fantasy to go to sleep without a shirt on, but Clay always seemed comfortable with t-shirts and sweatpants. "I don't know. I didn't like it, but it helped. A lot..."

"I know. I'm sure Merlok will better explain it once we've all recovered." Wishful thinking on his part, but hope was a powerful warrior in the face of doubt. "But you should rest. It's been a long day for everyone."

Unable to argue what she knew to be true, Macy melted further into his arms after a silent moment of contemplating the debate. Everyone was tired. She could hear it in Clay's voice, and he seldom showed his fatigue even when he'd go for days without a wink of sleep. If the armies of monsters and attacks on the kingdom persisted, they needed to be ready. Or at least, more ready than they were today. But who could blame them for that? This was supposed to be their Graduation Battlebration. Now they lost their chance to fight the automatons at the Joustdome, and they have to endure dozens of more fights with monsters and terrors and lava abominations. Now they were the heroes of the realm, the only ones throwing their pride aside to actually do their job as knights, and thousands of people are cheering for them. Now they're accountable for all those people and the harm those beasts could cause. And it's all because of-

No. She didn't want to antagonize Jestro. He was a broken man, prone to mistakes but seeking only the kindness and validation from even the people who mocked his name. This wasn't his fault, not fully. She shouldn't bear that mindset when they hardly even knew what they were truly up against.

That was a tomorrow question, just like the Nexo Scan. Macy would swallow her unease and regurgitate it tomorrow when it was a new day. Not graduation day. Not the most important day of her life. "Yeah, you're... you're right. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm confused too. We'll get answers, I promise. Just sleep. Okay?"

After a heinous wrestle with her worries and hopes, her gaze softened, and she settled into a more comfortable position against him. "What about you though?"

"Oh I plan to sleep. I couldn't bring myself to walk to the Joustdome even if I wanted to."

She huffed at the humor in his accusation. "You're actually gonna sleep?"

"Maybe," Clay admitted. "I hope so." His voice teetered on uncertainty, knowing his sleep schedule better than anyone. "But I won't leave your side if that makes you feel better. That counts as resting, doesn't it?"

"Look who's sounding sappy now..?"

"Oh be quiet." In hopes of silencing any further claims, he squeezed her against him and sadly muffled all the laughter that was left in her system. A shame really, but if she started laughing again they would both spend the next hour incapacitated by it. They could share a joke or two in the morning when they were a little more rested. Once she eased her giggles to hibernation with a sigh, he stole the opportunity to leave a kiss on top of her head. "Good night, Macy."

"Mmh, g'night boulder brain..." And just like that, she drifted into la la land.

Or at least he hoped she did. He could never tell. Minutes collided with hours, and his perception of time blurred with his vision. By the time he was certain Macy was safe within her dreams, he could barely grasp how far into the night they were. But he did know two things. One, he would sleep for more than two hours for once.

And two, he had a lot of questions for Merlok.

[yxkanna]

This time, they’re a little more discreet. He’s in a coffee line when the person behind him clears their throat, waiting until he turns to speak.

“Nicky Lee?” Hands raise, a signal of submission. After all, he’s already chewed out TMZ. “I’m with the Daily Mail. Do you have any comment about the recent interview Daenerys did regarding you? Can you confirm the rumors that you’re dating?”

in other news... // anonymous

HE'S BACK AT work. For how long, who's to say; the station had decided that his routine scraps in school were ultimately irrelevant in the face of his current EMS record, and Lily had backed him up in regards to not having any contacts with any local gangs (she knows he does, but she has them too for the same reasons, so what's the point in sharing something they don't use anyways?). So here he is waiting in line to get himself and Lily a coffee on a possible break. Thinking, thinking - how many espresso shots does he really need right now?

HE DOESN'T TURN around at the clearing of a throat - it's cold and flu season, it's easy to ignore - but he does turn when he hears his name. He locks eyes with this latest scab, piercing green gaze narrowing before he looks him up and down. A corner coffee shop isn't the best place to get messy the way he did last time, and he can practically smell the fear leaking off him. Good. He takes a half step forward to close the distance between them, shoulders squared, head cocked like he's looking for the right angle to knock this guy on his ass.

"FIRST OF ALL, keep my full name outta your mouth. Second - you don't believe her?" His voice is purposefully low, tone tight as he assesses his options here. You learn to deal with it, Dany had told him. Hmm.

"TELL YOU WHAT. You buy me and my partner our coffees while we're on break from our job of saving lives and I'll give you however long it takes to make 'em. I'm not answering dumbfuck questions so make 'em good. If not then we're done here."

[flameraven]

Good Omens S2 - Episode 1 Notes/Thoughts

Spoilers under the cut! I made notes while watching + my extended thoughts after the fact:

-I did not expect the show to open with the scene from the Beginning!

Very interesting that Crowley is the one saying Let There be Light. God is really hands-off in this universe, huh?

Angel not-Crowley is adorable, Tennant was definitely channeling his Doctor Who mode as he explains all about the stars and nebulas, he's so excited! I confess that I am disappointed that Crowley's wings were white. It looked better for the scene in space, it makes his change to his current self more obvious, I just find All Angels Have White Wings a little boring and cliche. I will probably continue to draw him with black wings. And now we know what sort of questions he asked that led to him Falling! CROWLEY YOU ARE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. A good boss SHOULD accept suggestions! Otherwise you end up with Elon Musk. And creating a whole universe only to destroy it 6,000 years later is a bad plan! ***

-People were very resistant to the idea of Landlord Aziraphale, but man, this is exactly the kind of landlord he'd be. "Oh you missed rent for 8 months? I didn't notice. Let me have this record and we'll forget it." Also deliberately keeping the record shop there so he can have easy access to records. Peak Aziraphale. Arranging the whole neighborhood to his tastes. Gabriel! I appreciate that Aziraphale's first reaction to him coming inside the shop is a panicked "NO!!" The only thing inside the box was a fly. But Beelzebub doesn't seem to know what's going on?? Interesting. *** Coffee shop: Honestly I love that Crowley immediately knows something is wrong from Aziraphale's tone of voice. Crowley has a spot in the bookshop where he habitually puts his glasses! Honestly Aziraphale you could have given Crowley more warning besides SURPRISE ARCHANGEL when he's already a bit stressed out and knows something's wrong! But the AAAAAH GABRIEL remains hilarious. *** Maybe too much espresso there, Crowley. I can't blame him for being extremely stressed, though! And I like that he did make an effort to calm down. And there was only 1 coffee shop! The Nina/Maggie plot is such a fanficcy setup. *** The matchbox is empty?? Baby Muriel is adorable, she's so demure, I honestly look forward to her getting recruited into the Ineffables' shenanigans. *** Neil Gaiman promised us no maggots this time but AAAAAGH FLIES. It's only marginally better. D: Eradicated from existence?? Yeah, that's the kind of threat that will drag Crowley on board. It is interesting that Hell is like "we can give you anything you want" and he's just not interested. He just wants to be left alone!! *** Honestly getting the vibes that Nina's partner is kind of controlling/abusive and D: *** Crowley driving at 110 mph, he IS stressed. "I'm back" remains peak dramatic bitch energy. But like. UGH there's such great characterization here. They're angry but they've fought enough times that they've got a routine AND A SILLY APOLOGY DANCE worked out. Amazing. The "half a miracle" to hide Gabriel moment is also hilarious. "No one will notice a thing!" [cut to ALARMS BLARING IN HEAVEN] XD Very interesting that Heaven assumes it must be Gabriel, because Aziraphale's not powerful enough to manage it, though.

[eauditor-audits-inspections]

Cafe Cleaning Checklist - Daily

Perform Cafe Cleaning - Daily Inspection using eAuditor

Cafe Cleaning - Daily refers to the routine cleaning tasks performed every day to maintain hygiene, safety, and presentation standards across all areas of a café. These tasks are essential for preventing contamination, ensuring food safety compliance, enhancing customer experience, and maintaining an inviting, organized environment for both customers and staff.

Performing a Cafe Cleaning - Daily Inspection using eAuditor goes beyond just ticking off tasks—it is a proactive quality control tool that ensures each zone of the café is maintained at the highest standard of hygiene, efficiency, and presentation, every day. Through a digitized and structured inspection process, eAuditor empowers café owners, supervisors, and team members to manage cleaning with greater clarity, consistency, and accountability—helping avoid compliance issues, customer complaints, and operational risks. This system is ideal for: - Independently owned cafés - Coffeehouse chains - Café-style restaurants - Hotel cafés and breakfast lounges - Bakery cafés or hybrid coffee bars Let’s expand on the inspection flow, operational sections, best practices, and how eAuditor can elevate your daily hygiene routines. - Why eAuditor for Cafe Cleaning - Daily? Traditional paper-based cleaning checklists often suffer from: - Inconsistency in staff compliance - Lack of proof during inspections - No visibility for managers or multi-branch operators - Difficulty tracking recurring issues or overdue tasks By contrast, eAuditor provides: - Mobile checklists for easy access on phones/tablets - Photo and video documentation of cleaning conditions - Automated corrective action tracking - Instant reports for internal records and external audits - Historical data and trend analysis for continuous improvement - Extended Inspection Scope by Zones 2.1. Front-of-House (Customer-Facing Areas) Maintaining a clean, organized, and safe space for guests is critical for brand reputation and repeat business. Key Checks: - Are tables, booths, and chairs wiped after each use? - Is the floor free from litter, spills, and stains? - Are point-of-sale devices and customer touchpoints sanitized? - Are glass displays smudge-free and well-lit? - Is the trash area tidy, and bins relined? In eAuditor: Include fields for: - Time of last wipe-down - Photos of before/after cleaning - Pass/Fail with mandatory comments if failed 2.2. Beverage Preparation Area (Barista Station) One of the busiest café areas requires frequent micro-cleaning and careful maintenance of beverage-making equipment. Key Checks: - Espresso machines are backflushed and wiped - Steam wands were cleaned and sanitized - Grinders cleared of residue - Pitchers and jugs rinsed and air-dried - Drip trays and knock boxes are emptied and sanitized - Syrup bottles wiped and nozzles cleared of buildup In eAuditor: Set critical time thresholds, e.g., every 2 hours. Track cleaning frequency and technician assignments. Capture images of the milk frother or knockbox hygiene.

2.3. Kitchen and Food Prep Zone Cafés that prepare sandwiches, salads, or baked items must uphold back-of-house food hygiene. Key Checks: - Slicing boards and utensils are sanitized - Worktops wiped and cleared between tasks - Refrigerators and chillers are within a safe temperature range - Expired items were removed and labeled - Food in airtight containers, FIFO labels present - Sinks degreased and soap dispensers full In eAuditor: Insert custom fields for temperature readings, cleaning agent logs, and batch code photos for traceability. 2.4. Cleaning Tools and Supplies Station Cleaning tools themselves must be cleaned and stored hygienically to prevent cross-contamination. Key Checks: - Mops, buckets, and brushes are rinsed after use - Color-coded cloths used correctly (kitchen, restroom, front-of-house) - Disinfectants diluted per guidelines - Spray bottles labeled clearly and stored away from food In eAuditor: Link to Safety Data Sheets (SDS) for cleaning chemicals. Add training checks for new staff on proper dilution. 2.5. Toilets and Staff Restrooms (if applicable) Poorly maintained restrooms can damage your brand image and violate public health requirements. Key Checks: - Toilets, urinals, and sinks are cleaned and disinfected - Floors mopped, dry, and odor-free - Soap, paper towels, and tissue are fully stocked - Trash bins emptied; sanitary bins managed - Mirrors wiped and touchpoints sanitized In eAuditor: Set inspection intervals (start, mid-shift, end-of-day). Log supply restocking and note low inventory alerts.

2.6. Equipment & Environmental Cleanliness Regular equipment cleaning improves food safety and equipment lifespan. Key Checks: - Fridge/freezer temperatures are recorded and within safe limits - Grease filters cleaned or scheduled - Air conditioning vents are dust-free - Fans, light fixtures, and window sills are clean - The music system and digital screens were dusted In eAuditor: Capture maintenance records or service dates. Use dropdowns to mark if cleaning is daily, weekly, or outsourced. 2.7. End-of-Day Closing Tasks A clean close sets up a smooth start for the next day and prevents overnight hazards. Key Checks: - All floors deep cleaned and chairs stacked - Last trash disposal completed - All perishables are labeled, stored, or discarded - Equipment turned off or sanitized - Entryways locked, lights off, alarm armed - Daily cleaning checklist completed and signed off In eAuditor: Enable digital sign-off with staff and supervisor signatures. Send a final checklist report to the manager automatically at closing time. - Corrective Actions and Accountability Whenever a task is missed or non-compliant: - The inspector can assign an action directly from eAuditor - Set a priority level, deadline, and a responsible team member - Add a description of the issue, expected resolution, and even supporting media - Upon completion, the staff can mark it done, upload before/after photos, and sign off - Reporting and Continuous Improvement After each daily cleaning audit: - eAuditor generates a clean, timestamped PDF report - All findings, comments, and photos are included - Reports are emailed to supervisors, QA teams, or regional managers - Over time, analytics dashboards show: - Recurring cleaning issues - Compliance by shift or team - Performance by location (for multi-branch operations) These insights help adjust cleaning schedules, staff training, or even vendor contracts (e.g., pest control or deep cleaning). - Summary Performing a Cafe Cleaning - Daily Inspection using eAuditor ensures more than just cleanliness—it builds a culture of hygiene, consistency, and excellence. With a digital audit tool, your café can: - Maintain regulatory readiness and public confidence - Keep real-time records for accountability - Reduce health hazards, customer complaints, and costly mistakes - Improve staff ownership of cleanliness tasks - Empower managers with visibility and control Read the full article

[vonstarlight]

get 2 know me!!! ⊹₊⋆

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♬ basics ♬ ☆ name: von ☆ age: 24 ☆ zodiac: Aquarius (i own the IKEA aftonsparv alien plush i am NOT beating the aquarius allegations) ☆ pets: 1 teddy bear hamster named Jazz Hands & 1 dwarf hamster named Wii Sports Resort ^_^ ☆ fun fact!: i collect webkinz plushies i find at thrift stores

♬ identity & personality ♬ ☆ gender: yes  ☆ pronouns: he/she ☆ orientation: bi ☆ relationship status: single af 

♬ routine ♬ ☆ early bird or night owl?: night owl!!! getting up early makes me want 2 die!!!! ☆ bath or shower?: shower + blasting music always  ☆ first thought in the morning: "i can sleep for 10 more minutes... *snoozes alarm*"  ☆ last thought before falling asleep: "oh god the horrors are all consuming......" (btw never believe what your brain tells you after 9 pm)

♬ school/work ♬ ☆ do you work or are you a student?: work -_-" i graduated with my BFA in 2022 & don't plan on getting a masters degree atm!  ☆ what do you do well?: ive been a barista for nearly 10 years so stuff like drink mixing & espresso tasting.

♬ habits (do you...?) ♬ ☆ drink: rarely, i don’t like most alcohol. despite this i want 2 bartend someday LOL ☆ exercise: ................ does being on my feet at work count? xD ☆ have a go-to comfort food?: buttered popcorn ☆ have a nervous habit?: biting my lips til they bleed LMFAO my adhd ass craves stimulation

♬ what is your favorite...? ♬ ☆ food: tiki masala chicken + rice ☆ drink: matcha tea!!!! ☆ animal: it's hard 2 pick a fave..... i especially love small animals like hamsters, mice & rats! i'd love to own more rodents someday, & eventually my own cat & dog ^_^ ☆ artist/band: Daft Punk is the reigning champion, i never get tired of their music. my fave record i own is Discovery & i love rewatching Interstella 5555 ☆ games: Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess!!!! i replay it every December c: ☆ tv show: it used 2 be Stranger Things :T honestly i don't watch anything besides Youtube anyways LOL Danny Gonzalez & Jenna Marbles r my faves

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☆ I tag: everyone!!! if ur reading this u HAVE 2 make one. if ur not reading this u have 2 make one. no one is free o.0

[justanotherindie]

At Dawn - Sippin' on My Coffee [Organic House]

В прошлом году далеко не раз хвалил за креативность участников калифорнийского коллектива At Dawn, подписанных на Routine Espresso Recordings, и этим летом пополнил свою коллекцию их новинкой “Sippin’ on My Coffee”. Ребята продолжат развивать свое мелодичное звучание, сочетающее deep house / organic house и вайбы неспешного nu disco, и с новым синглом явно выводят его на новый уровень. Красивый…