salemsarc

[salemsarc]

iloveyoucon east 2020 - original

Clicking and typing sounds still invaded Wynn’s idle thoughts even outside of his work time. After all, it was all he heard while he was working. Wynn pinched the bridge of his nose. Today was too long. Anthony was still his lovely self, he obviously has not gotten over the hickey incident that happened over two weeks ago. It was goddamn frustrating, but all that mattered was that he was home now, and hopefully Gabby would be home too.

“Mmm, Gabs, I’m home,” called out Wynn upon opening the front door. No answer. He might be in class still, no matter. Instead of being all sulky over the lack of boyfriend, he made his way to the kitchen to decide on dinner.

“We do have some ingredients…” There were some chicken thighs in the freezer but Wynn didn’t feel like cooking anything. He would probably order takeout, or Gabby would end up cooking something.

“Hm? Baby? You didn’t tell me you were home?” Gabby was peeking out from their bedroom with a towel haphazardly thrown onto his hair. It was obvious that he just came out of the shower.

“I called out, but no one answered, I thought you were in class.”

“Yeah! But I’m still here!” Gabby had disappeared back into the room and Wynn abandoned whatever he was looking at in the kitchen to pester Gabby. His boyfriend was sprawled out on the double bed, fiddling with his phone. What truly had Gabby breathless was what he was wearing.

Wynn recognized the shirt that Gabby put on as one of his own, from a work conference he went to in Miami. It fit rather well on Wynn, he usually wore it when he worked out. But on Gabby, it was so much larger on his small body. Wynn was nine inches taller than Gabby, that shirt was wearing him. Wynn felt like he was being stabbed.

“Gabs, is that my shirt?” Wynn asked, desperately trying to keep up his false composure.

“Yeah, it still smells like you and I was feeling all sad because you were still at work.” Gabby looked up from his phone momentarily with those doe eyes of his. The light from the nightstand hit Gabby’s eyes just right, making them sparkle ever so slightly. God, Wynn was going to die.

Wynn decided to jump on the bed right next to Gabby. He smelled clean and of vanilla.

“Cute.” Wynn whispered to no one in particular. Gabby turned innocently to Wynn.

“I’m always cute!” He had a snarky look on his face to conflict with the feigned innocence. Regardless, Wynn still found himself catching Gabby’s lips in his with an arm wrapping around Gabby’s slim waist. He tasted like peppermint and love, something that Wynn could taste forever. Surprisingly, Gabby was the first to poke his tongue at the seam of the other’s lips. Wynn allows Gabby to lick into his mouth with ease. The kiss never becomes more hungry than sweet, but Wynn still found himself working a hand into Gabby’s wet hair.

Gabby was obviously feeling a little hungry though, he separated from Wynn’s lips, with a string of saliva connecting them. Whining at the loss of contact, Wynn stopped when Gabby moved down to suck marks onto Wynn’s neck. He seriously couldn’t find it in himself to care that much when it was his beautiful boyfriend marking him. Eventually, Gabby stopped and climbed on top of Wynn, touching their foreheads together.

“You wore that shirt on purpose,” growled Wynn.

“It worked, though!” Gabby had a cheesy smile on his face that melted Wynn immediately. They would need to get an actual dinner before they foiled their appetite.

[salemsarc]

space heater of the plague - original

The rustling of Wynn’s jacket is what caught Gabby’s attention while he was getting ready to go to sleep. It wasn’t that cold outside, Gabby wondered why Wynn was wearing his heavier coat in the first place. Instead of dwelling on that thought for any longer, he yelled for Wynn to come to the bedroom so he could greet his boyfriend as he came home from work. Wynn was standing right in front of the bedroom door, looking worn for wear.

“Hi baby!-”-Gabby planted a quick kiss on Wynn’s lips-”How was work?”

“Mmmm…” Wynn just hummed for a few seconds before responding, “I’m tired and work is a lot of work.” He was definitely tired.

“Great observation, baby. Work is indeed work.” Gabby quipped with a smirk, fully expecting to be flicked by Wynn. Except, that flick to the forehead never came.

“No sex tonight… I’m too tired for… shit?” Wynn just kissed the crown of Gabby’s head before waddling off to bed and immediately falling asleep. Now that was definitely weird. Not that Gabby minded the cockblock for that night, but Wynn almost never tells him that. Gabby just ended up going to sleep beside his heater of a boyfriend, but man, was he hot (figuratively and literally).

Upon gaining consciousness, the sullen look on Wynn’s face reappeared in Gabby’s mind. Under his eyes, the bags were deeper than usual. I could carry my groceries with those babies. Gabby giggled at his own joke, but back to business.

Wynn was a rather warm person, which Gabby loved. But, last night, cuddling up next to Wynn made Gabby feel like he was on fire. He also thought about Wynn flat out denying sex before falling asleep. That’s it. The only time that Wynn outright took sex right off the table was when he was sick, because he didn’t want to get Gabby sick. That bastard wasn’t slick.

That’s when Gabby opened his eyes and turned around in bed to see Wynn laying beside him, in his boxers, just staring at the ceiling.

“You’re sick!” Gabby accused him with a pointed finger aimed at Wynn.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wynn murmured, blinking three times in a row. 

Gabby knew when Wynn was lying.

“Come here!” Gabby made his way over to Wynn in an attempt to feel his forehead.

“No!” Wynn rolled over to the other side of the bed and threw himself under the blankets. Gabby ripped the blanket off of the bed and wasted no time in jumping right on top of Wynn.

“You’re burning hot! You are sick!” Gabby yelled. Wynn just sighed and relaxed his body.

“I have to get to work though.” Wynn slurred.

“Like hell you are! You’re staying right here in this bed and you’re not allowed to move.” A loud groan came from Wynn’s sickly body as he weakly pushed Gabby’s weight off of him.

“I have to go to work, baby. There’s a deadline next week for-” Gabby’s finger squished against Wynn’s lips.

“Shh. Fuck your deadlines, you’re sick. If they start giving you shit for being sick, I’ll go in there myself and whack some old men with my chancla.” You don’t fuck with the chancla.

Wynn conceded and let himself relax a bit. Gabby rolled off the bed and went to the kitchen to go get them some breakfast. He didn’t have class until the late afternoon, and he would be willing to skip it anyways. He just ended up frying some rice with some egg, something that should be easy enough on Wynn. Gabby reentered the bedroom to see Wynn sitting up, on his laptop.

“If you’re doing work, I’m going to put baked beans in your shoes.” Gabby threatened with a glare.

“Relax angel, I just want to watch something. Also, we don’t even have baked beans.” Wynn coughed a few times and slouched against the pillow he was using to prop himself up. Gabby felt his resolve soften.

“I’m going to feed you.” chirped Gabby.

“I can feed myself, babe.”

“Yeah! But I want to and I have an excuse to do so now.” Gabby already had a spoon next to Wynn’s mouth. Wynn reluctantly accepted Gabby feeding him and most definitely did not enjoy it, no matter how many times you ask him.

They ended up watching some shitty action movie with terrible special effects. Gabby was not paying attention to the movie, but he was indirectly. By staring at Wynn, who was actually watching the movie, of course. The dollar store effects were enough to make Wynn laugh a little, which was beautiful to Gabby. His face would scrunch up slightly and small wheezes would escape from his mouth, just a tiny bit scratchy. It satisfied an itch in Gabby’s brain, just watching and hearing it.

“What did you think of the ending?” asked Wynn in a tired voice. That voice was very distracting and not fair.

“Uh… um… explosions were cool?” said Gabby very unconfidently.

“There were no explosions at the end, angel, were you even watching?” Wynn was looking right through Gabby now and Gabby was now dying on the inside.

I was watching something alright, hot damn. Gabby thought to himself. Except he didn’t, he said that out loud.

“Even though I look sick and gross, you still find a way to be whipped for me.” That earned a slap on the shoulder from Gabby. Regardless, Gabby pushed Wynn’s laptop aside so that he could rest his head on his boyfriend’s chest. The steady heartbeat put Gabby’s mind at ease.

“You sound congested,” muttered Gabby while feeling the rise and fall of Wynn’s chest.

“That’s because I am, you dork.” This man was going to be the end of him.

Gabby craned his head to look at Wynn, who was looking down at him.

“I’m going to kiss you and I don’t care if I get sick.” Gabby leaned in and was surprised when Wynn didn’t say anything about it. Anyways, their lips still come together with a lower intensity, not necessarily being laced with lust. They melted into each other, with Gabby slowly climbing on top of Wynn. Gabby doesn’t remember when he swiped his tongue across the other’s bottom lip, but he very much enjoyed having Wynn’s tongue in his mouth. Feeling a little greedy, Gabby let his fingers wander below Wynn’s waistband, when Wynn promptly bit Gabby’s tongue.

“Ow! Wha wath tha fo?” exclaimed Gabby when he snapped backwards.

“I’m still sick. None of that foolishness for you.” deadpanned Wynn in a stupidly matter-of-fact way.

“You don’t know that I was going to do that.” Except, he was. “Just go to sleep, since you’re so sick.” Gabby half-hearted pushed Wynn’s face to the side. Wynn was already asleep.

“Forget it.” whispered Gabby, settling back onto Wynn’s chest.

[salemsarc]

the fun of normality - prologue - ao3

It isn’t all that worrying to Kenma when he spends almost his entire day inside of his office. But for Kuroo, it’s a slightly different story. He knows that Kenma will eventually take care of his own needs if things do get dire. The rooster-headed fool just can’t help but worry, but he’s been like this for the ten years that they’ve known each other.

“Ah, I died.” Kenma deadpanned to his streaming audience. He was currently in the middle of a long-winded live stream and his character had just been shot in the head.

“Whatever, it’s fine. I have been playing for a really long time…” The chat was disappointed.

soapsoul: lmao

pyr0p3t3r3: No Don’t Leave

Kodzufan: I just got on :(((

lanestreets: calm down guys

“Relax guys. I’ll be streaming tomorrow too,” -he shut off the stream abruptly- “I just want to spend time with Kuroo.”

Kenma let out a sigh before standing up to stretch. A few creepily loud cracks later, he was up to wait for Kuroo to come home. Since he was a chemical engineer, he worked a lot outside of the house. He decided he might as well fall asleep for a bit waiting for him.

***

Kuroo tapped the door open with his foot since he was carrying bags of takeout. He kicked off his shoes and set the bags on the kitchen counter before loosening his tie.

“Kenmaaaaa!” He called in a sing-song voice.

“Mm.” A low grunt was heard from a bump on the couch.

“I brought you takeout. Get your overworked but really nice ass up.”

“Can it, won’t you?”

Kenma rolled over and smushed his face into one of the various throw pillows on their couch. Kuroo really liked buying ones that had those stupid quotes on them. The one Kenma happened to be using was Live, Laugh, Love. He didn’t get to enjoy the scratchy pillow for long before a pair of muscular arms scooped Kenma from his vegetable state.

“Put me down, Kuroo”

“You need to eat,” Kuroo pinches Kenma’s forearm lightly, “you’re too skinny.”

“Yeah okay, just put me down.” Kenma retorted with a little more malice in his deadpan voice.

The blocker finally relented and put him down, next to the kitchen table. Kuroo had ordered some ramen and takoyaki, presumably from the place across the street from their apartment. It did smell good. Kenma hadn’t really eaten all day, save for the bag of trail mix that he would eat while working. Kuroo is kind of a health nut so trail mix is probably the best Kenma would get.

“How was work?” Kenma asked.

He was breaking apart his chopsticks while Kuroo was thinking.

“Oh! It was fine, but I have to go away for about a week on Monday for some stupid convention.”

Kenma broke his chopsticks unevenly at that. As much as he’s used to being holed up in his office all day, Kuroo was still in the apartment or in the general area with him. A week without Kuroo sounded weird.

“I have to go to California! Ugh! Imagine how long the flight’s going to be!”

“Can I come with you?” Kenma asked before he knew what he was saying. Kuroo leaving meant that he could’ve had time to work without getting distracted by his stud of a boyfriend. He does like being “distracted” by Kuroo after all.

“Oh that’s a good idea! It’ll be like a vacation! We can finally be aloneeee~” Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows while saying that.

“Not a sex vacation Kuroo. I want to see California” Kenma would never admit that he couldn’t handle not being able to be held by Kuroo for a week.

“Ah, you’re no fun. Maybe Bokuto wants to come! With Akaashi, of course.” Kuroo lit up at his own idea and immediately pulled out his phone before Kenma could say anything. I’m in love with a hopeless idiot. Kenma says that in his head more often than he would like to. Well, an idiot who’s also a chemical engineer.

The last piece of takoyaki was shoved in Kenma’s mouth and he stood up to start making his way to bed.

“I have to be up early tomorrow. I have a video call at eight and I don’t understand how you can wake up before me.” Kenma mumbled with slightly bitter tone.

He ended up crashing into their shared bed face-first, too tired from having to interact with his subscribers. Kenma was half-asleep when he felt something jump on his back. It was undoubtedly Kuroo, so Kenma rolled out from under him after he caught the breath he lost.

“I love youuu~” Kuroo whispered.

“You almost broke my back.”

“Do I need to take you to the ER? You break bones so easily.”

“Relax, it was a joke.” Kenma softened being curled up in a blanket of Kuroo.

He put his face in the crook of Kuroo’s neck and kissed the bottom of his chin. He really did love to cuddle with Kuroo more than anything else. He just won’t admit it out loud, he needs to keep up his “tsundere” persona. Kuroo had pulled the comforter over both of them.

“I love you too, Kuro.” Kenma whispered. He turned his head to find Kuroo dead asleep. Being a chemical engineer seems pretty hard after all, he couldn’t blame him. But saying it was enough for Kenma for now. It’s enough to love him.

[salemsarc]

untitled drabble - ao3

Noises of pots clanging and assorted teenage trolls screaming became too commonplace in Dave’s life. Karkat was probably throwing another tantrum, most likely caused by Vriska. Judging by the cacophony of pain that was bleeding through Dave’s doorframe, Karkat probably got hit with an iron skillet that Rose had brought.

“Rose’ll kill those poor aliens.” He said out loud to no one in particular.

“Goddammit I have fucking had it with these fuckbagging shitlickers-” Karkat’s voice was becoming stronger and more grating as he continued his sentence.

The door was kicked open in a not-so-graceful way but it was Karkat for crying out loud.

“The doorknob was right there, right there, Karkles. It’s probably wondering why you ghosted it and refused to turn it’s pretty little self in order to let yourself into my room. Shameful,” Dave said while clicking his tongue and shaking his head. Instead of Karkat’s usual rage-filled response that Dave had totally expected, Karkat had thrown himself onto Dave’s cold, hard floor.

“I cannot believe those nooksuckers, Dave. I’m ignoring that fact that you used that godawful name again because I am so unbelievably mad-” -Dave went to go lay down next to Karkat’s pitiful form-”-at these fuckasses. Going after my blood color? Making silly little jokes that a grub could come up with even with their partially formed thinkpan?”

The troll stopped right there, having chosen to let out a deep sigh of exasperation in its stead. He said that he “didn’t give a flaming shit” about the blood hierarchy in the first place, but Dave knew better than that.

[salemsarc]

untitled satire - original - ao3

The newfound darkness slowly closed in on the ice-laced walls. Some raw chicken that was supposed to be for dinner dug into a young boy’s torso.

“Caroline! Let me out you witch!” Matthew was in quite a predicament.

“Not until you tell me where you put my paintbrushes, twerp.” He could practically see her veins bulging out of her head.

“Fine! They’re in my shirt drawer! Please-“ Matthew’s plea was interrupted by a noise that could only be described as a wind blowing through a campfire. “Hello? Caroline?” The weight that was on the freezer door had vanished.

Using all of the strength he had left in his bitterly cold body, Matthew kicked his leg at the door and it swung open with a crash. Immediately, he fell out onto his hands. “Jesus Christ.” The warmth was welcoming to his arms and so he was able to lift himself back up.

Looking behind him, Matthew saw the shattered china from the force of the freezer door opening. “Mom’s going to kill me.” He suddenly looked down at a pile of ash. As Matthew’s senses returned, he slowly realized what his world looked like.

Most of the furniture in the kitchen had burn marks on them. His vision was clouded by smoke. Matthew peered over to the tablecloth on his dining table. It was on fire.

“Fuck.” He ran through the apartment, ignoring any other damage present. He grabbed the doorknob with his still wet shirt and to his surprise the knob wasn’t burning. Two doors down was a fire alarm that he then pulled.

After jumping down a few flights of stairs, he reached the parking lot. “Help! There’s a fire in my building!” He yelled desperately. It took Matthew a moment before he realized there was no one around him. Considering this is Chicago, this was highly, highly unusual. Impossible even.

All around, buildings in his view were coated in a thick layer of ash or were charred beyond recognition.

“What happened?” “Was there a fire?” “Why isn’t anyone else outside?” Thoughts were slowly piling up in his head as he took in his surroundings.

He sat on the ground. “Whatever this is, I think I’m on my own now.”

Being the last person on Earth at the age of 12 was certainly not what Matthew expected of his life, but things happen. Around two year have passed since then. There was enough food items preserved in freezers at the convenience stores to keep him well-fed. Also enough to bake a cake.

A fairly shitty cake sat in front of Matthew. He had calculated that today was his 14th birthday. He also calculated that he was on his last shred of sanity.

“Happy birthday Caroline,” he looked over to the sack of cotton with a blonde halloween wig on top, “it’s our 14th birthday!” He smiled warmly at the unresponsive sack.

He struck the flint with ease, having to do this more times than he cared to remember. A toothpick was lit and Matthew began to sing.

“Happy birthday to us, happy birthday to-“ A knock on the door rudely interrupted the exciting celebration. “Excuse me, Caroline. I think we have a guest!” He remarked with a twinge of excitement.

Matthew grabbed the doorknob and swung it open to reveal a strange figure. “Hello! Are you here for the birthday celebration! I’m turning 14 and so is my sister!” He gestured towards the sack with a wig.

“Human?” A garbled voice came from the figure. It began to morph into what appeared as a melted Ken doll.

“I’m pretty sure, yes. Would you like some cake?” He was unfazed by the transformation in front of him.

“Human gone.” Spindles of metal came forward and grabbed Matthew’s head. A scream couldn’t even escape before a sickening crack came after the twist of Matthew’s neck. During all this, the garbled voice of the figure chanted to the box on its chest.

“Hello CQ, is Skrub. Earth dead.”

[salemsarc]

untitled satire - original - ao3

If Paris is the city of love, then Layla would say that a coffee shop is the city of unrequited love. She’s heard it all. No, she did not scrape her knee. No, she is not homework, and she is definitely not from Tennessee.

She didn’t expect working as a barista would be so exhausting. Well, she did, but not in the way of tolerating terrible romantic advances. But making overly-complicated orders was exhausting in its own right.

“Who even orders two kinds of milk?” Layla had a habit of murmuring to herself while she worked. She put the drink on the counter with only a slight excess of force. “Number 34!” Layla yelled with a twinge of annoyance.

That flew out the window when a boy barreled through the door and flopped down on the counter.

“Anyone. Literally anyone. Please.” he sputtered out.

Layla rushed over with a more anxious version of her customer service smile.

“Welcome, sir! May I… uh… take your order?”

“Coffee. Black. The biggest fucking size.”

“Alright sir! But are you… okay?”

The boy responded by threading his fingers into his deep brown locks and grunting. He stood up to reveal deep bags under his eyes. I could move to Canada with those . Layla didn’t say that out loud.

“I’ve been awake for three days doing my stupid paper.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. A name for the order?”

“Skrub.”

Interesting name. Layla chose not to think much of it, and she started on the order. Skrub was waiting to pay though.

“It’s on the house.” she said.

“Thank you, so fucking much.” Skrub went to a table and dropped his bag. He immediately started working on his laptop, presumably on his paper.

It didn’t take a lot to make his order, it was simple enough. Instead of calling out his number, Layla decided to deliver it herself.

“Here.” She set it down beside him and went back behind the counter. Another customer walked in, with an unmistakable face.

“Hey there! I came back here because I think I lost my number. Any chance I could use yours?” The sleaze winked.

“Haha, no-“

Before she could respond, Skrub was standing up and pointing at the dude.

“You! You there! Don’t do that, it’s creepy. Do you treat every pretty girl like that? I don’t like creepy people and I feel delusional enough to do something really stupid.” he exclaimed. Shocked, the sleaze just ordered and sat down.

“Yo, was that the sleaze again? October? I swear…” That was Vessel, Layla’s coworker. He was taking inventory in the back.

“Yeah, but it’s fine now.” she half-whispered with surprise.

That has never happened to Layla in her three years working there. He really stood up for her, some random coffee shop worker that he didn’t even know. She was slightly flustered, but it wasn’t exactly that.

He was just being a decent person. But Layla decided to use the lack of traffic to observe him. His curly brown hair was messy, like he had been running around all day. His face was scrunched up a bit in concentration, it was cute.

Just thinking about his personality made Layla laugh a little. At that point, she was laughing to herself in the near barren shop. Vessel had just left. It was just Layla and Skrub.

Layla moved to the tables and sat down, scrolling through her phone. It wasn’t like she could do anything else, other than trying to make shitty latté art.

Skrub hadn’t moved for a while. Layla stood up and leaned to see what he was doing. Sleeping. His face was smashed into his arm and he was leaning against the somewhat dirty wall. She walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, we’re not closing but you fell asleep.”

Skrub blinked a few times, gaining a sense of self. It was pretty cute. But he quickly screeched into Layla’s ear and promptly flipped his shit.

“My paper! Oh my fucking everloving god. I’m going to die. I’m dying a virgin and it’s all because of human desir-“ Layla cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. He snapped his head around to look at Layla.

“Thanks for earlier, no one’s ever dealt with him.” She gave him a warm smile.

“It was n-nothing. No one deserves that.” he stuttered out. He flushed slightly seeing her smile.

“Don’t think that I missed you calling me a pretty girl.”

“Well, I was just stating facts.” He looked at her like she just told him she had three heads.

“Oh, well then I guess you’re a cute boy too.” she said with the false air of confidence. Skrub tensed and grabbed a marker.

“Your arm. Give it to me. Not like that though.” he stammered while avoiding eye contact.

Layla complied, only slightly weirded out. Skrub scribbled what looked to be his number onto Layla’s arm.

“It’s washable… you know if you don’t want it.” Layla shook her head and pressed a kiss to Skrub’s cheek.

“I don’t want to wash it off, Skrub.”

[salemsarc]

chase me chase you - prologue - ao3

If anyone knew about most of the work that’s done at IRON, children would probably not want to become an agent when they’re older. Most kids nowadays want to become a future IRON special-ops agent, which is a horrific idea, really.

Hajime was digging marks into his desk with his nails, he just had them done so it was quite a shame to his manicurist.

“God damn it, Shittykawa.” Hajime grunts through his clenched teeth. He was trying to find more information on whatever Oikawa’s next move would be. Hajime had thought he knew Oikawa inside and out, but recent events have been proving him wrong and it’s tearing the poor agent apart on the inside.

“Trying to track down loverboy, am I correct?” It didn’t take Hajime even a moment to recognize that smartass voice in his head.

“Can it, Kuroo.”

“Was I wrong, though?” Kuroo had an awfully snide grin on his face, which worked perfectly with his seemingly permanent bedhead. Hajime was sitting down, so Kuroo looked even taller than he usually did, which was already alot. He was a fellow member of the special-ops serving under the Manager. As much as Hajime can’t stand how much of a smartass he is, he has to admit that Kuroo gets the job done.

“By the way, once you’re done brooding over your computer, K-the Manager wants to talk with you. Did you fuck up or something?” If Kuroo had said her name on the floor, the Manager would have his head, literally.

“No. At least I don’t think I have.” Hajime let out a loud sigh before throwing his head into his hands. As if trying to find his estranged childhood friend wasn’t enough of a damper on his day.

“Bang!” Tooru shouted excitedly. The bullet escaped from his pistol with hardly any noise, and went right into Mr. Gol’s temple, just where he wanted it. The man fell over with an anti-climatic thud, which sent the guards around him in a frenzy.

Tooru was impressed with himself, such a small window to strike and he didn’t even graze the jacket of the one guard. He could revel in his success later, he had to get out of there.

He swung himself up from his position on the floor, landing on top of one of the many metal structures in the large warehouse. One of those bozos had to have spotted him, because Tooru could hear the guns being pulled out from their holsters.

“Tsk tsk, this won’t do at all,” Oikawa scrunched his face after he threw himself behind a crate filled with cocaine. “I guess we’re doing this the hard way then.” One guard dropped down, the others still shooting blindly. Tooru had dropped down to the musty floor of the warehouse, and rolled behind a metal structure with small holes in its beams. Shoving the tip of his gun into the hole, he took a few of the guards down.

From behind him, Tooru felt cold metal press into his hair.

“Who are you,” a gruff voice muttered to him.

“Just running some errands for Ushiwaka,” Tooru rolled his eyes and before the guard could even blink, Tooru had him pinned onto the floor with the gun against his forehead. “My my, Ushiwaka always has me do such boring things for his errands, he could always just do them himself, you know?” Bang.

“But that’s not how the Messiah rolls, I guess.”

“Iwaizumi, you can come in!” Yachi pulled the door behind her shut, the door to the Manager’s office. “Manager’s a little grumpy right now, but I’m sure you’re not in trouble. They like you a lot, you know.”

Sure didn’t feel like it.

“Alright then, thank you, Yachi.”

Yachi gave him a pitiful look before moving to go down the hallway. She was always so sweet, the poor girl. A lot of the other special-ops members were intimidating to her, not on purpose of course. Her blond ponytail swayed to her other shoulder while she pivoted her heel.

“I’m sorry about Oikawa.” Right. All of the special-ops members knew about Hajime’s past with Oikawa. He didn’t appreciate the pity, but if someone else were in the same position he would probably do the same thing.

Hajime blocked that out of his mind while he opened the door to the office. Still had the charm of a small, homely office while being hopelessly gigantic.

“Manager-san.” Hajime bowed from a respectable distance from her desk.

“Iwaizumi, I told you, you don’t have to be so formal with me,” The Manager clicked their tongue and scooted back in their chair. “I wanted to talk to you about Oikawa.” He shouldn’t have expected any less. Trying to locate Oikawa and stop his next move was about as fruitful as a literal vegetable. Hajime kept feeling like he was so close to finding him, but Oikawa was always one step ahead, the little shit.

“Oikawa has assassinated the mayor of New York City, Mr. Gol.” Hajime almost dropped dead to the floor. Oikawa was in the city? He could… no. Not right now. It didn’t matter what his relationship was to his objective. He would complete it.

“I’m sorry I have failed again.” Hajime said solemnly.

“Don’t be too upset, Iwaizumi. It was recently found out that Mr. Gol had been trafficking drugs and kids, all while paying off members of the council to stay quiet about it. One of our own agents too.” The Manager spoke firmly. Hajime didn’t even have to ask what happened to the traitor.

“Despicable.” Hajime felt sick to his stomach. Taking down horrific people like Mr. Gol, the “right” way, was what he joined the special-ops for. Oikawa was a step ahead of him, killing the man probably for his boss. Hajime didn’t want to think about the fact that Oikawa might’ve killed him without a thought to his crimes, and just to his orders.

“However, we do have some more information on Oikawa, gathered by myself. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Ushijima’s office was hopelessly suffocating. The velvet carpet was dusty and it made Tooru’s allergies flare up. But Tendou had an affinity for velvet, so there was nothing that could be done about that. You couldn’t do anything about something in this organization if Tendou was behind it.

“He’s dead.” Tooru sang, leaning his weight on the mahogany desk in the middle of the office. Ushijima took off his glasses and put them on top of some files.

“Get your elbows off my desk.”

“What? No 'thank you'? No ‘well done’?” Tooru did, however, remove his elbows from the desk.

“You weren’t flawless. You still had to take down the guards.” Ushijima’s face was unfazed while he typed mindlessly on his laptop.

“But, I got it done, didn’t I? He was a top-notch target that even Shrimpy-chan struggled with.” Hinata had tried to put the moves on Dr. Gol, but even he couldn’t outdo his relentless guards.

“Kageyama would’ve done it flawlessly.” Ushijima deadpanned.

Tooru wasn’t going to listen to anymore of his bullshit. He went right back to his room silently. Hanamaki looked like he wanted to bother Tooru some more, but one glance at his eyes made him back off. That’s rare for Hanamaki.

“Fuck his natural talent!” Tooru yelled while he shot a hole into his wall. Kageyama had only been with the organization for a few months, but he was already the favorite for being able to do everything flawlessly. Tooru doubted that he had even worked that hard. He spent his entire life training for this, right when he was picked up from the orphanage near the end of high school by Ushijima himself. Vomiting blood, collapsing from exhaustion, and having broken bones constantly. Kageyama had endured none of that to get where he was now.

“I’ll fucking show him alright, what I can do. Nothing that boy genius can do.”

[salemsarc]

i’m not even my own - ao3

It was rare to have anyone other than Tadashi watching Kei’s games.

Kei was running off of a slight adrenaline high walking off the court. The Sendai Frogs had just won against a formidable rival, and Kei was a part of that team. Warmth pooling in Kei’s gut didn’t disgust him anymore, he accepted his passion for volleyball long ago.

Before the match, Kei was opening his texts before confining his phone to his gym bag for the duration of the game.

From: <3Tadashi<3

good luck tsukki !! i’m in the front row

A smile crept up onto Kei’s face, which surprised some of his teammates who were glancing around the locker room. Sure, he was a lot less cranky since high school, but he was nowhere near Hinata’s level of enthusiasm. Kei only sent a short reply to Tadashi before he was about to turn off his phone, another text had caught him off guard.

From: Akaashi

Hey. I’m watching your game. Can we hang out and talk after?

Kei didn’t pretend that those words on the screen didn’t cause him some unease. It wasn’t like he wasn’t on good terms with Akaashi, rather the opposite. They texted frequently (under Kei’s standards) and still made time to go out to brunch or watch a movie occasionally. Just slightly strange that he would request to see each other so suddenly, especially right after one of Kei’s games.

Now that Kei had thought about it, Bokuto didn’t have any games for that week. Akaashi attended every one of Bokuto’s games, the beefcake claiming that Akaashi was his good luck charm. That man was a saint for being able to deal with Bokuto’s antics on such a frequent basis.

Thinking time was over, one of Kei’s teammates slapped his shoulder roughly, causing his phone to clatter to the floor.

“You can text your girlfriend later, Tsukishima,” said his teammate with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Girlfriend, sure. Kei picked up his phone from the ground and shoved it into his bag. He could worry about Akaashi later.

Tadashi was waiting for him, of course, right outside of the gym. Kei’s teammates were still inside, probably doing some stupid locker room ritual that Kei had no interest in. The way that Tadashi’s irises were sparkling in pride still made Kei’s insides swirl around.

“Congrats, Tsukki!” Tadashi threw his arms around Kei’s lanky body despite the fact that Kei was pretty sweaty. “You kicked their asses! God, I’m so lucky to have such a cool boyfriend.” Kei’s insides swirled a little harder at his words.

Tadashi followed up by pressing a chaste kiss to Kei’s lips, having to go onto the tips of his toes to reach his excessive height. Kei didn’t make any fuss because he was feeling particularly sappy for Tadashi at that moment, and his teammates probably weren’t around.

“Yeah, well, everyone else also played the game too, you know,” teased Kei.

“I hate you, just take the compliment!”

“Fine, thank you for the compliment that is definitely the truth.”

Tadashi smacked Kei’s shoulder lightheartedly at that, but he knew what Kei was thinking. He always did.

“Oh! I was sitting with Akaashi during the game, are you guys going to hang out now?” Kei didn’t pay any mind to the stands during his games, regardless of Tadashi’s presence. But he did remember getting a brief glimpse of Akaashi’s emotionless resting face.

“Mm. He said he wanted to hang out and talk.” This time, Kei tried to hide his unease.

“Stop worrying so much, he probably just wants to catch up.” Hiding was pointless.

“He’s by the parking lot, I’m going to go now.”

Kei chose to ignore Tadashi’s remark on his nervousness and instead leaned down to slot their lips together. He held it there for a few seconds, just to be safe.

“Oh, wow, Tsukki. This bold in public? I’ll be waiting for you when you get home!~” Tadashi made a point to drag his pointer finger down Kei’s chest before leaving. His finger carved sparks and tingles in its path of destruction.

He should go find Akaashi.

Akaashi was, indeed, waiting for him at the parking lot entrance. He was by no means short, standing only seven centimeters below Kei’s own stature. But, the jacket he was wearing (or vice-versa) made Akaashi appear Tadashi’s size.

“Ah, Tsukishima. Thanks for agreeing to this so last-minute.” Akaashi had peered over his phone to regard Kei.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I would have just spent some time with Tadashi,” uttered Kei. He didn’t include what he thought that time would ensue, he also chose not to think about it.

“I feel bad for interrupting your time with Yamaguchi, are you sure this is okay?” Akaashi asked. He was shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. It made the oversized jacket sway back and forth, and make a small sound when the zipper collided with a nearby car. Akaashi looked nervous about something and it made Kei’s insides swirl in the opposite direction.

“It’s fine. Seriously. I spent a lot of time with Tadashi as it is,” They did live together, after all, “I don’t mind going somewhere with you for one afternoon.” He couldn’t make his face look any more pleased, as much as he tried. Kei prayed that Akaashi would pick up his sentiment so he wouldn’t have to admit it himself.

“Okay, thank you,” Akaashi’s lips curled up briefly before he showed Kei his phone screen. “Can we go here?” It was a small coffee shop he went to with Tadashi on occasion. Kei simply nodded before beginning to navigate.

Almost no time had passed when the two boys arrived at the coffee shop, it was only a small walk away. Upon receiving their drinks and Kei’s slice of cake (It was most definitely for Tadashi, not himself, grump master Kei would never consume sweet, sugary confections.), they found a table to sit at.

“You did a good job today. A lot of your blocks only had a brief window of decision, I admire your analysis,” complimented Akaashi.

“Coming from you, of course. I’m sure you overthink how you tie your shoes.”

Small talk felt empty when it was obvious that another matter was gravely present. Akaashi just chuckled before taking a long sip of his hazelnut coffee. He took a deep breath.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you some things,” muttered Akaashi while he threaded a hand through his obsidian hair.

“I assumed as such. Why else would you voluntarily spend time with my joyful demeanor?” The sarcasm came from Kei as deadpan as ever.

“Do you mind if I ask something about Yamaguchi?”

“Not really, no. Unless it’s something weird and perverted.”

“How did you realize you were in love with him?”

The question cut through the tense air like a dull butter knife. Kei certainly wasn’t expecting such an emotionally-charged question from Akaashi. Did he want romantic advice? That wouldn’t be like Akaashi, it had to be deeper than that.

“I guess it was right before graduation. Tadashi was really upset over leaving the volleyball team, especially as captain. I didn’t really mind, but I suddenly felt myself feeling upset because Tadashi was. It was when I realized that I didn’t have some silly crush on Tadashi for all those years, but that I was just in love with him.” Kei recalled the moment as if it had happened the day before.

“In hindsight, it was stupidly obvious how in love with him I was. All the signs were there. Even the dumbass freak duo figured it out before I did.”

Akaashi was listening intensely when Kei met the boy’s eyes once again. Now it was clear why Akaashi asked him to hang out, really it should’ve been a lot sooner.

Kei thought about how Akaashi’s mood dropped whenever Bokuto would go into his emo mode during a game. He hid it extremely well, but Sugawara had pointed it out to Kei once, and he never unsaw it. Akaashi’s sets were still precise as ever, but the way the ball sprang off his fingertips made it feel like Akaashi was the one getting his spikes constantly blocked.

“What signs.” Akaashi asked immediately with a sideways cough right after.

“I would sacrifice a lot for him. Tadashi sucked at English so I always would teach him whatever he struggled with after practice, no matter how much work I had. In general I gave all of my free time to be with Tadashi. What’s that song? If I had to choose between him and the son, I’d be one nocturnal son of a gun. As embarrassing and nauseatingly cheesy as it sounds, it’s true.”

Kei thought about how many plans Akaashi cancelled to go to Bokuto’s games. He would always provide the same reason, that he had to be there so Bokuto wouldn’t go into emo mode. Tadashi asked Kei if he was being held at gunpoint.

“The jealousy, too. Sometimes girls would confess to Tadashi after school, and he would come to practice feeling self-confident, but still describing how bad he felt for rejecting their feelings. I was happy that he felt more confident in himself, but some ugly part of me wanted to kiss him right in front of those girls. I guess showing them that Tadashi wasn’t available. But he was. I didn’t want Tadashi to date anyone. Turns out I didn’t want him to date anyone that wasn’t me.”

This time, Kei didn’t think about Akaashi. He thought about Bokuto talking to him during the training camp. A girl confessed to Akaashi that morning and he responded with a simple rejection. Kei may be taken, but he sure isn’t blind (with his glasses). Akaashi was really fucking attractive. It was surely a common occurrence but Bokuto was still dejected. Bokuto didn’t bring his voice volume above a respectable level the entire morning. His mood brought down the whole warm-up. Even Kei felt his arms stinging just a little bit more from the ball.

“Oh, okay. That was really detailed.” Kei had finished his answer and met eyes once again with Akaashi. He appeared more somber than anxious like he had before in the parking lot. Dark eyes were zigging and zagging to find some imaginary answer in the coffee shop.

“I mean, you asked. So, I answered.”

“Yes, I guess I did. Wow.”

“Did that help you realize that you’re in love with Bokuto?”

It was a little too blunt, even for a person like Kei, but he felt like he needed to state the everloving obvious. Akaashi’s eyes blew open like saucers and his mouth stood slightly agape. Only for a fleeting moment, however. He quickly composed himself into emotionless-Akaashi-mode and took an even longer sip of his now cold coffee to solidify his composure.

“Yes, it did. Thank you Tsukishima,” stated Akaashi flatly.

“No problem. When are you going to tell him?” Kei had no desire to press further into Akaashi’s personal feelings.

“I’m not. I can’t.”

Akaashi’s visage was inflicted with a familiar pain. Kei had felt the same emotion himself, he saw those cracks festering onto Akaashi’s state of mind. He could see the doubts swimming into Akaashi’s eyes that would leave him dizzy and longing.

“Akaashi.”

He met Kei’s gaze, and promptly gave in. Akaashi was not about to start crying in a coffee shop where he could feel the stares of a family behind him. Instead, he spilled out all the thoughts that were imprisoned in his mind.

“It’s the classic ‘ I don’t want to ruin our friendship! ’ kind of deal, I know. In the stories and movies the person ends up confessing anyways and of course, the other person feels the same way because this is a romance, coming-of-age movie after all! But this is real life! Just because it worked out for you and Yamaguchi doesn’t mean I get a happy ending too!” The subtle jab at the end, most likely unintentional, made Kei feel a dull guilt.

“I’ve known that I’ve been in love with him, I wish I was that stupid. This was just my reality check. I go to all of his games no matter what, just because he wants me there. Do you know how much I’ve missed out on from loving him? Koutarou could ask me to give him the world, for fuck’s sake, and I would do it. Yet, I feel like throwing up every time he asks me to set to him with that godforsaken confidence in his eye.”

“Yes, I’m in love with Bokuto, but I can’t fucking live like this!”

Kei had never seen Akaashi express so much emotion in his years of knowing him. It was more than every year combined. Kei cursed the emptiness he felt. He couldn’t understand what Akaashi was feeling.

Venting his emotions did nothing to stop the tears already dripping down Akaashi’s face. Upon realizing this, the setter shamefully wiped the wetness from his face with his jacket sleeve. No, Bokuto’s jacket sleeve. The player gave it to Akaashi the previous day because it was cold outside and Akaashi didn’t bring anything to keep him warm.

“Keiji! I can’t let you get sick! I would be a terrible person if I let you suffer like this,” screeched Bokuto. The same excitable man ended up getting sick and Akaashi took care of him because he felt guilty.

An uncharacteristic hand grasped Akaashi’s shoulder. Kei had reached out to him, just like that. Akaashi couldn’t help but halt his downward spiral and look up in complete surprise.

“Just tell him. If he rejects you, whatever. Then you can get over him and stop giving him everything. If not, then there you go.” Kei said firmly.

While it was just a hand on his shoulder and some words of common sense, the gesture being from Kei created a new level of authenticity. Kei felt uncomfortable as all hell for doing this, but he couldn’t watch Akaashi dig himself into such a deep hole. It was by no means a gesture of comfort, but rather of desperation.

“Text me how it goes, okay?” Kei moved to get up and leave. He felt terrible for leaving all too suddenly, but he knew this wasn’t his area of expertise.

Akaashi understood.

Akaashi picked up his emotions that he had scattered all over the table and neatly put them back inside of his head. He dusted off the crumbs of emotional vulnerability from the table. It was a moment of instability, but Akaashi had managed to pack it all down. No more troublesome Akaashi burdening his friends with his useless feelings. Everything was back in its rightful place in the universe.

“Goodbye, Tsukishima. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.”