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[afyrian]

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[dumdogs]

SLEAZE ✶⋆.˚ MIYA OSAMU

CHAPTER THREE: dinner

SOUNDTRACK: freak by feeble little horse

warning: implied/mentioned ed

She leans out of her bathroom window. In one hand, she balances a lit cigarette and a half-eaten granola bar. She takes a drag from her cigarette, then a bite from the granola bar, smoke and chunks of chewy strawberry and oats mixing on her tongue. It’s early in the morning, blue and cold, and it’s drizzling. Tiny drops of rainwater gather on the tips of her fur jacket. If she shook around like a dog, it’d all splatter all over her bathroom, which can’t be good for the fur, if it’s real. If it’s not, it won’t make a difference. 

She decides to risk it for the view. 

Osamu’s across the street, transporting cardboard boxes from the back of a small car in through the front door of Onigiri Miya. She’s been watching him for a couple minutes now, enjoying him and her breakfast at the same time. He hasn’t noticed her, which makes her feel kind of creepy, but not enough to stop. 

Despite the cold and the rain, he makes the journey from the back of his car to the front door of his shop in just a tight, black long sleeved shirt that outlines perfectly which muscles of his are straining as he lifts and carries each box. She gnaws on her food, and exhales the smoke through her nostrils. She’s always had a thing about his arms. 

Osamu is perfect, she thinks. It’s hard to imagine his flaws. Whenever she thinks of him, she always tries. Late at night, lying restless in her bed, she imagines him as a habitual liar, as ill-tempered, as wickedly manipulative. She tries to picture him talking over her or letting a door slam in her face. Even small things: an obnoxious laugh, weird toes, bad breath. And it’s all sort of unfathomable. Her brain won’t let her imagine Osamu as anything other than flawless. 

He’s returning back to the car once more when she calls attention to herself. She swallows, and leans further out the window. “Hey, Miya!” she calls out. 

He stops, head swiveling around for a moment before his eyes land on her. For a second, they widen in surprise, but then his expression eases, and a soft smile tugs and his lips. “Hey,” he calls back, looking up at her second-story window. “What are you doing up so early?” 

She’s always up this early. She had fallen into the habit of late nights and early mornings when she was younger, and never bothered to break the routine. Which, she figures, is kind of unfortunate. It would be a lot easier to let life pass her by if she slept until noon every day. Instead, she has to be awake and bright-eyed for as much of it as possible. 

“Enjoying my breakfast and the view,” she tells him, winking as she does so, and she doesn’t miss the slight, pink blush that blooms across his cheeks. “Are you restocking or something?” 

He nods, looking back over his shoulder towards his car parked on the curb. “Yeah, there was a sale on disposables at the restaurant wholesale, so I figured I’d get there early before they sold out and restock while I could. Though I did have to take an elbow to the gut to get some takeout containers.” 

She leans further out the window, now standing on the tips of her toes. “I’m sure your customers appreciate your bravery,” she tells him with a smile, “I know I do.” 

Osamu blushes again, and it makes her feel smug. He crosses his arms over his chest. She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Well, at least that makes it worth it.” 

The front of her thighs press against the wall just below the window. She kicks one leg up behind her. “Want me to get you a coffee?” she asks. 

He raises an eyebrow at her. “So you can get me a coffee, but I can’t take you out to dinner?” he questions. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Aww, c‘mon, let me just get you a coffee. Just one coffee,” she insists. “You deserve it.” 

Osamu sighs, and looks down at the ground for a moment, as if he is considering some great dilemma. When he looks back up at her, he gives her a soft smile. “Fine,” he relents, “I’ll take whatever you get.” 

She returns his smile, and leans back into her bathroom. She puts the cigarette out on the window sill, and abandons her half-eaten granola bar next to it. Without saying another word, she closes the window. 

✶⋆.˚

Osamu makes a twisted face as the coffee hits his tongue. “Black?” he questions as he holds up the cup away from his face, examining it. 

She shrugs, leaning against the counter of Ongiri Miya. Osamu stands on the other side, leaning over on his forearm. It’s oddly intimate, being in the restaurant before it opens, with the door locked and all the lights off. If she sat up on the edge of her seat and leaned in closer, her forehead would bump his. “You said you wanted whatever I got,” she reminds him. 

“This wasn’t what I was expecting,” he confesses to her, taking another apprehensive sip. “I thought it’d be a lot sweeter. At least cream.” 

At her lowest and most obsessive points, the thought of putting anything in her coffee, cream, syrups, sugar, would’ve been enough to make her break into stress hives. She would force cups of hot, black coffee down her throat no matter how bitter it tasted. It’s not really as if she ever started enjoying the taste of black coffee, since she doesn’t ever really enjoy the taste of anything, it’s more that she had just gotten used to it. Now sugary lattes and shots of flavor seem so sweet they make her feel nauseous. 

So, black coffee it is. 

“Black’s the best way to drink it, y’know” she tells Osamu, not really believing it. “You just gotta develop a taste for it.” 

As if trying to prove a point, Osamu tilts his head back and takes a large gulp of coffee. And she takes this opportunity to let her eyes linger over his exposed throat, and imagines, briefly, what it would look like stained in dark purple bruises and the deep shade of her lipstick. When he drops his head, she lets his gaze linger for a moment before she lifts her eyes to his, and she hopes he knows what she was thinking of. 

“It’s bitter,” he says, “but I could get used to it.” 

She grins at him. Teeth bared, and all. “I’ll get you addicted to it,” she teases lightly. 

Osamu’s eyes shine. “What do I owe you for the coffee?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” she replies. “For now, though. I reserve the right to change my mind. I kind of like the idea of you owing me something.” 

He snickers, and lets his head drop for a second, and he looks back up at her. “Make up your mind about dinner yet?” 

“Hmm,” she hums, and then pushes away from the counter, standing. “No word yet. And y’know what, you should probably get back to work. I think your coffee distracted you from your restocking.” 

“It certainly did,” Osamu says, watching her as she turns on her heel and heads for the door. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Once she reaches the door, she turns her head and gives him a bright smile. “See ya then, Miya.” 

✶⋆.˚

She only has two friends, and has only ever had two friends, which doesn’t leave her with a lot to spare. So she can’t ever really get mad at either one of them without running the risk of being even more alone than she already is. 

Which sucks, because she’s really mad at Kuroo right now. 

Several pink, plump shrimp swim in the broth before her. And she just sits there, staring down at it, repulsed. She hates shrimp. She can’t stand them. The thought of them touching her food makes her stomach turn, and here they are, contaminating her meal. She shudders. 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroos says, now repeating himself several times over, but it falls on deaf ears. “I could’ve sworn you said shrimp!” 

“No,” Kenma says through a mouthful of noodles, “she’s always hated shrimp. You just never listen.”

The three of them are seated around her coffee table in her living room, some foreign volleyball game playing on her television. Kuroo does this sometimes. He brings Kenma and takeout to her door and insists on spending the night splayed out on her couch, watching her television. And she usually allows it, because she likes Kuroo, and is willing to tolerate the uncertainty of whatever restaurant he orders from in exchange for his company. 

But this error might be too much to forgive. 

Kuroo grabs at her takeout container, and slides it away from her, swapping it with his own bowl. “Here, you can have mine. It’s pork.” 

She looks up at Kuroo with a disapproving expression. “We can’t just switch. You already started eating it,” she tells him, picturing in her mind just how much of Kuroo’s saliva has already seeped into the dish. She has to suppress a shudder, and pushes the bowl away from her. “That’s disgusting.” 

Kuroo sighs, and drops his head back. “I cannot keep up with your rules.” 

She groans, and slumps against the couch behind her, her legs sliding under the coffee table, while Kuroo watches on with wide, stressed eyes. Kenma slurps at his own dish, staring flatly at the both of them. “You have to eat something,” Kenma tells her, and there is no room for argument in his words. 

Part of her knows that she’s being ridiculous, and that there’s really nothing stopping her from rifling through her fridge and finding something edible. It would be easy enough, and wouldn’t take long, but lying there with her head flat against the couch cushion, it seems like an impossible task. She can feel them both staring at her, waiting for her to take some action, but she just groans again, the only thing she can think to do to express her dissatisfaction. 

Kuroo leans towards her, and pokes at her arm. “Do you want me to order you something else?” he asks like he’s afraid of upsetting her further. 

“She can find food in her kitchen,” Kenma interjects. He does not have the same fear. 

She groans again, and forces herself to stand. There’s a limit to how much she can sit and groan and whine with Kenma around. The one downside to her forcing Kenma to spend so much time with her is that he’s gotten entirely used to her. Her rules and her habits and her frequent mental breakdowns don’t make him uncomfortable anymore. She can’t weaponize his uneasiness against him the same way she can with Kuroo. 

Her feet drag the whole way to her kitchen, and Kuroo calls out another desperate, “Sorry!” which she entirely ignores. Instead, she throws open her cabinet doors, looking in them for only a second before she moves onto the next one, leaving the cabinet doors wide open. There’s really no point in looking; she knows her kitchen inventory like she’s paid to. Eventually, she’ll settle on the leftover hamburger that’s in her fridge, but she wants to keep throwing her little fit first. 

She’s staring into the mostly empty pantry, containing only a bag of white rice and canned diced tomatoes, when there’s a knock on the door. At once, Kuroo shouts into the kitchen, “There’s someone at your door!"  

A terrible thought crosses through her mind that it’s her mother at the door, and she tenses up at once. “Will you answer it?” she calls back to him, voice wavering, and then calls again, “Wait, no, make Kenma get it,” just in case it is her mother. 

She’s closing her cabinet doors, hands slightly shaking at the image of her mother standing at her doorway, holding some kind of script in her hands. Her limbs move strangely, and her heart thumbs erratically. Kenma pops his head into the kitchen. “It’s for you.” 

She stares at him. “Is it my mom?” she questions. 

“Nope,” Kenma replies easily, and then slides back into her living room. 

Relief floods over her, and she follows Kenma, taking long strides towards her front door. And she doesn’t really question who else could be standing at her doorstep after dark once she accepts that it’s not her mother. Still, she’s surprised when she throws open her front door to see Osamu standing on the other side. 

He’s standing there in his tight black shirt and his Onigiri Miya hat with a small takeout container held delicately in his hands. He looks nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his eyes not staying in one spot for more than a second. He smiles slightly at the sight of her. “Hey,” he greets. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?” 

She tilts her head to the side, and examines him. Her body still feels out of sync, and there’s still a lingering frustration in her muscles. Seeing Osamu adds in this shot of adrenaline, on top of it all, and she just doesn’t know the right way to act. “Nah,” she answers, and then straightens out. “Nothing important. What’s up? Did you miss me?” 

Osamu lets out a short laugh.. “I, erm, had a takeout order cancel. It’s salmon, your favorite. I figured it’s better you take it than it going to waste.” He holds up the takeout box to her. She wonders if it’s one of the new ones he got this morning. “It’s still fresh.” 

She doesn’t have great control over her emotions. Little things feel big to her. The thought of her mother appearing unannounced sends her body into a panic and she reacts to shrimp in her food as if it were poison. So when Osamu appears at her door, comfort food in his hand, his adorable hat pulled over his dark hair and his goddamn arms, she can’t stop herself from launching herself at him. 

Osamu takes a step back to steady himself, and his arms apprehensively circle loosely around her waist. She practically hangs off of him, standing on her toes and tightening her arms around his neck. She can’t help herself. She leans back, and places a kiss on his cheek. “Miya Osamu,” she says, still clinging onto him, “you’re my hero.” 

She knows it’s absurd, and slightly obsessive, but she swears, in that moment, she feels that she could be in love with him.

taglist: @kameyyy @wyrcan @angee444 @lale-txt @akaashislovee @localgaytrainwreck @whorefornoodles @baylz @asrichin @miiyas @ferntv @atzixo @kr1nqu @spicana @weezerbby @chaosakademia @theepitomeofswag @qardasngan @tinnierat @gigiiiiislife @acowboykisser @wordsofelie @asnjinj @miakxn @svquru @arirants111 @nekomasmngr @iluv-ace @therealmsbahng @videlll @yessimo @socoolsocoolsocool @bertqut1 @rosellerinfrost @fishrene @recordsndreams @bae-ashlynn @seroh @evilari111 @nat1221 @laceythespacey @deluluforcarlos55 @bakunis @itsdragonius @esotericsorrow @4crewz (complete this form to be added)

[afyrian]

hey, i was starting follow me like the moon and phase (chapter) four isn’t available to read.. the link leads to a deleted post 💔💔💔

aww i’m so sorry!! it’s been fixed now with a reupload 🙂‍↕️

[afyrian]

phase 4 - follow you anywhere (reupload) m.list

    the laptop's screen only displays a word document, times new roman chosen for the document's font. the title ends with a singular word, eclipse. beside it, a straight line flickers in and out, waiting for you to start the article. instead, you're standing in the kitchen, phone pressed against your shoulder and ear. 

  "no, no, a firsthand account of meeting him, seeing him in action with an added interview," a piece of toast rests in her hand, butter knife wiping against it with a jar of peanut butter off to the side, "i even have a recording of the conversation, akaashi. i'll play it for you today, just give me that opportunity."

  his voice is quiet in the apartment, a short muffle that only you can hear. setting the knife into the kitchen sink, you roll your eyes as akaashi says something else, the phone slipping from between your shoulder and ear. it slides down and hits against the piece of toast in your hand, peanut butter coating the screen. 

  "shit, akaashi i have to call you back- can we just talk about it when i get in?" luckily, as you pull the phone from the toast, just enough of it is uncovered for you to end the call. 

  setting your toast down, slowly, so it doesn't end up getting peanut butter on the counter, you grab a washcloth. getting part of it damp, you start wiping off the initial spikes of peanut butter. your eyes roll as soon as it smears across the screen, gaze flickering to the time centered on the oven. eight forty-five in the morning, twenty minutes until your first class begins. 

  biting your lip, you fold the washcloth inward, wiping against the screen again. in your most annoyed state, a knock echoes out into the apartment. it's loud, the rhythm memorable to something a close friend does every time he comes over. "i have class today, can we not do this?" you shout out to the door, finally getting most of the peanut butter off. 

  "just let me talk!"

  "no! you scared me shitless! you're not allowed to do that- you're just not!" you wipe down the screen of your phone with the dry part of the washcloth, throwing it into the sink to be washed later.

  walking over to the front door, you unlock it, opening it quickly. there stands kuroo, hand pushing against the doorframe. his legs are crossed, eyes closed like he considered just leaving in that moment. he straightens up immediately as soon as the door opens, "c'mon y/n, i told you i had that exam."

  "yeah, so wake me up! don't just leave in the middle of the night when you're injured," your eyebrows drop, lips morphing from a scowl into a frown. 

  "okay, okay, i won't do that again."

  "yeah, there won't be an 'again' cause you're not pulling that shit anymore," your hand raises, forming into a fist to hit into his shoulder, harder than you expected it to be, "and don't expect me to tell you about this article i'm writing on eclipse."

  walking back into the apartment, he follows after, shutting the door behind him. "so you were approved for the article then? and what happened last night? i know you were pissed but you could've at least answered me," kuroo drops his canvas bag onto one of your old fabric chairs, following you into the kitchen.

  "told you, not telling. and last night, something even more exciting happened, i interviewed him," you grab your toast, pursing your lips as it's cold, kuroo's distraction leaving you with a distasteful breakfast.

  taking a bite out of it, you watch as kuroo's eyebrows raise in surprise. his mouth hangs open for a second which almost causes you to spit out the chewed up piece of toast heading for your throat. "wait, you interviewed the actually eclipse? like not some cheap knock off version?" his eyebrows drop, furrowing as he taps his fingers against a kitchen counter.

  "well, considering he floated in the air? i would assume he's the real one... think i don't have journalistic integrity or something?" you narrow your eyes, your lips scrunching up, moving to one side. 

  "no, he's just never wanted to do interviews before. most people hardly even see him. what, with his whole 'in the shadows' thing he's got going on," kuroo shrugs, the tip of his shoe tapping against the wooden flooring. 

  you set down the toast, gaze moving back towards the clock, only fifteen minutes until your class starts. "right, well he figured i'd be truthful, not some seasoned, paid under the table, type of writer," you walk around him, closing the laptop and stuffing it into your backpack, "so, i'm gonna publish it, with or without the school paper."

  "you really are?"

  "yeah, so are you with me or not? because if you're just gonna run off-"

  "i'm not going to run off again, n/n," kuroo's hand grabs his backpack, having followed you from the kitchen, knowing he'd follow you anywhere.

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @unhelpfulnpc @phoenix-eclipses

@iiwaijime @cupidsblonde @yogurtkags @s1ckntw1st3d @mfcherry

@just-coreee @cherrypieyourface @csbnova @keeboismine @nekozaki

@k0z3me

[sodaneko]

COSMIC CRISP ; Kiyoko x gn!reader

Her arms wrap around your neck, a slow dance you have perfected over the years. No matter how close you are, it just never feels enough. If only you could carve yourself into her being–as if your name wasn’t written across her heart walls already.

contains: gn!reader (no pronouns used, no bodily descriptions), tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, road trip vibes, a lot of apples

word count: 1.3k

Summer has been kind to you, stretching out its branches and hugging autumn tightly, creating a kaleidoscope of warm colors and sunshine in your face. The windows of your old car are rolled down as you follow the bumpy road ahead of you, the radio playing a song dripping with nostalgia. Your fingers drum to the beat of it against the steering wheel while Kiyoko is humming along from the passenger seat, the wind rifling through her hair. She doesn’t seem to mind it though, her gaze following the scenery outside, one hand idly playing with the necklace you got her for your anniversary. She hasn’t taken it off ever since. 

In her lap lies a slightly crumpled street map of this area and a flyer from the apple orchard you’re headed to. The innkeeper handed it to you over breakfast, practically swooning over it–how she took her wife there for their first date many, many years ago and how they still purchase their apple juice from there, how Kiyoko and you were just in time for the upcoming harvesting season and that it would be worth the day trip. In all honesty you were sold from the start at the thought of a basket full of crisp apples and now that you were getting closer your excitement was radiating off you in waves.

“You’re in a good mood,” Kiyoko points out in a soft voice as she steals a glance at you. She looks absolutely radiant–she always does, but especially today, wearing a vintage dress and a matching subtle shade of lipstick that complimented her angelic features. With each passing day you find yourself more and more enamored with her, as if this was even possible. 

“Sure am,” you respond, a smile spreading across your face. It is hard, keeping your eyes on the road ahead of you and not at Kiyoko, but you force yourself for the sake of basic driving safety. You’d have plenty of time to admire her once you reach the orchard. “It’s been forever since we had a few days off together and I love making memories with you. Doesn’t get any better than this.”

“How sweet of the innkeeper to pack us a picnic basket even,” Kiyoko hums, looking over her shoulder where said basket was sitting in the backseat. The lady had been very persistent in her kindness, assuring you that the perfect apple orchard date needs a picnic under the trees. You couldn’t tell her that you already had another surprise planned, much bigger than a sweet little picnic, currently sitting in a velvet ring box in the glove compartment of your car. All the pieces are slowly falling into place, all the stars and planets aligning and leading you to where you belong–right here, right now, with Kiyoko.

You pull up in the parking lot, only a handful other cars there. There’s a small makeshift booth explaining the rules and how to’s of apple picking as well as a small donation box and some buckets you could lend and use for the harvest. The apple trees in front of you look lush and rich, their red fruits almost glistening in the early afternoon sun. You can already imagine what it would feel like to sink your teeth into these and it has you excited. Kiyoko squeezes your hand and gives you a knowing smile, happy to make another memory with you. 

“Just point at any apple you like and I’ll get it for you, no matter how high,” you tell Kiyoko as you stroll deeper into the orchard, hand in hand, your other gesturing as if this was your apple kingdom. The whole area is very vast, making it seem like you’re the only people here. It’s peaceful and quiet, no sound except for Kiyoko’s soft laugh and the subtle rustling of the picnic basket, holding a blanket and two bentos, green tea and something sweet.

“Please don’t climb any of these trees. I know how clumsy you can get and I’d rather have you in one piece, love,” Kiyoko mutters and points at a wooden ladder leaning against one of the apple trees. She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can use this instead. I’ll hold it for you and if you still manage to slip and fall, I’ll catch you.”

After strolling around for what feels like forever, snatching an apple here and there, you find a spot on the top of the hill where you settle down for your picnic. You smile for the polaroid camera Kiyoko is pointing at you, admiring you through the lens as if you’re a masterpiece. Over the years you’ve secured yourself a safe spot in the museum of her heart, something she’ll always let you feel through the smallest gestures–when she fixes your collar, to the way she says your name (with a gentleness reserved for you only), or how she is cutting the apple in small slices for you.

Kiyoko never makes you question the love he holds for you, it’s steady as the seasons and the tides. She’s the calm presence by your side, the one you can always rely on when everything else is crumbling. When you think about the future, you see her face, smiling, your reflection mirrored in her warm eyes. There’s no doubt that the love that grew between you both over the years stretches out as vast as one thousand apple orchards, a tiny universe on your own. You think about the velvet box tucked away in your car again, stored away for later when you’re stargazing, and can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest, imagining what the ring will look like on her slender fingers.

You twirl the pocket knife in your hand–earning yourself a chiding glance from Kiyoko–while you peel an apple, leaning back against one of the massive trunks. 

“We should carve our initials into the tree somewhere. Then come back in a few years and see if we can find the same spot again,” you think out loud, searching her gaze for approval. The way she looks back at you is nothing but tender, a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips. Her lipstick is a little bit smudged from the kisses you stole earlier, but it doesn’t make her any less beautiful. You reach out and cup one side of her face, brushing over the corner of her mouth with your thumb. Kiyoko leans closer into your touch, closing her eyes for a moment before looking back at you through long lashes. 

“That’s sweet. Let’s do that,” she agrees and slowly leans in for another kiss, making your heart drum. She tastes even sweeter than usual and you think this might be the closest you can ever get to heaven. You pull her closer, the half-peeled apple and the pocket knife carelessly dropped aside, your hand now tangling in her hair instead while she’s straddling your lap. Her arms wrap around your neck, a slow dance you have perfected over the years. No matter how close you are, it just never feels enough. If only you could carve yourself into her being–as if your name wasn’t written across her heart walls already.

“I love you,” you murmur against her lips, not wanting to pull apart just yet. The sun breaks through the treetops, dipping you two in red and orange hues. “I love you more than anything.”

Kiyoko laughs softly, a sound like windchimes, like it was the first time she heard you say that. She would never get tired of it, tired of you. If she is the calm sea, you are the moon, ever changing but forever who she will be drawn to. A pair that could never be broken. You belong together, in this life and the ones after that; she’ll find you. She always does. 

“I love you, too. You’re my everything, my one and only,” she whispers back, her cheeks tinted like crisp apples, a heart glowing like it’s made from gold. Forever yours. 

a/n: a belated birthday gift but no less from the heart! i love you lots @wyrcan ♡ i'm so glad you exist and that we crossed paths! big warm hugs and kisses all over your face for you. you're so cool, i'll forever admire you. ily!!

[nekozaki]

ENTRANCED || kiyoko shimizu x reader

word count: 1.2k, drabble. tags: coffee shop!au, timeskip kiyoko, f2l bc of course. ellie.txt: fighting author's block for my fiance so EVERYBODY go wish @wyrcan happy birthday NOW!! thank you, have a good day.

After months of waking up to the cold weather, the early signs of spring start to slowly show themselves by your workplace. The days at work get longer when you can see, right outside your window, people walking around and enjoying the sun far more than you have been able to. You get stuck in an endless circle of imagining what else you could have been doing, how else you could spend your time and what kind of flowers you could start to see blossoming on the outside.

It distracts you from your workflow and the customer's order right in front of you, but it’s truly only considered a problem when a very familiar vanilla but far different from the one you are used smelling on the shop; and it takes you half a second to recognize the scent before you snap you head to the door and watches Kiyoko gently closing the door behind her, laptop on the other hand before she gives you a small grin accompanied by a wink.

That definitely disturbs your workflow entirely. Even after months of doing so, you swore you could get used to her visiting the shop to work on weekly plans, but the way you stumble on your words and almost drop the tray on top of a group of teenagers proves otherwise.

It earns her smile, wider this time, as she shakes her head and makes her way to the signature booth by the window she likes sitting by, so it should be worth it.

Like any other day, you make your way behind the counter, try to resume that order as fast as you could so no one else would get hers but you, but it happens all in a blur. You only remember the way she leans against the table, her face gently rests on her palm and the sun kisses her skin before your body walks into an empty table. Unfortunately, it's not enough to stop you and the tray from both finding the floor, and you snap out and see a taller shadow hovering above yours.

“Are you okay?” It’s embarrassing to look up and find the eyes of your coworker, so you don’t and just nod, kneeling on the floor and trying to clean up the mess the pastries did when you smashed them with your body on the floor. Before you can even properly plan how to do it, you see him kneeling before he waves his hand before you to call your attention. “Go clean yourself, I’ll take care of this.” His eyes are gentle, and it leaves very little room to argue when he takes the tray from your hand and motions out to the bathroom.

The way there is quick, especially when you avoid looking up while running all the way there, slamming the door and locking it behind you. You pace around the small individual bathroom for a few seconds, avoiding the mirror and staring down at the stark red strawberry jam all splattered in your shirt.

For a second you entertain the idea that your friend could have missed the embarrassment by how quickly you ran off the crime scene, but in the next one you hear a gentle knock against the door and that is definitely harder to unmistakably hers. That much you can’t lie to yourself.

“I’ll be out in a second,” your voice sounds louder than you planned as you open the sink and try to pretend you weren’t just mortified standing around by yourself there.

“Let me help you,” it’s everything you hear back. Her voice is soft, far closer than you expected through the door, and it makes you quickly turn the water off to shut whatever could keep you from hearing that again — though your heart can barely contain itself by the way it keeps hammering against your ribcage.

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, leaning against the sink and finally finding your eyes in the mirror and seeing the disaster your shirt was now. “It’s fine, I promise I’ll finish this and-”

“Let me in, please.” Incredibly softer than before, and it urges your hand away from the cold sink and immediately to unlock the door like a trance.

She’s not wearing her glasses anymore, it’s the first thing you notice when you open the door. Kiyoko must have left it with her laptop, on the designated place she always sit down, and it reminds you once again that you interrupted both her coffee break and work.

“You can go back-”

“Don’t be silly,” she steps inside the bathroom, closing the door behind her and placing a hand on your shoulder to push you until your back meets the sink. “It’s no trouble at all.”

You feel just slightly more stupid now, seeing how fast she works after taking the cloth on your apron and dampening it on the water from the sink before pulling the collar of your shirt slightly, as you stand there, frozen. Trying not to move a single muscle on your body while she cleans it, because as embarrassing as it looked, Kiyoko had this force to her that made everything she worked on feel like magic.

It’s hard, focusing on slowing your heartbeats when she’s so close to it. The worst part is that she doesn’t seem to not mind, instead, she chuckles quickly when her hand goes above your heart.

“Embarrassed still?” And it should feel humiliating, but her eyes look at you with so much warmth you can’t help but smile back.

“Even more now,” you blurt out, and it seems like the wrong answer until the edge of her lips twitches to smile wider, then you simply consider it the right one.

“Cute, but don’t be,” she takes a step back, to which you immediately miss the warmth of being around her, and find very little time to complain when she concludes, “take my sweater.”

“What? No! You don’t have-” Your heart skips a beat and it delays your answer for a split second, making it easier for her to cut you off.

“I don’t have to, but let me.” She nods before walking back and unlocking the door, “all I ask is that you stop by my table for a few minutes while I get it from my bag, can you do that?”

 Your grip on the sink is probably noticeable, but it’s far more important to keep yourself steady now than hiding anything from her. You doubt you could at this point.

“I don’t want to take more of your time, you have work.”

There’s a pause before she calls your name, impossibly warmer than before, and you realize that maybe that sink must be a lot studier than you gave it credit for by the way you keep supporting your weight on it.

Then, she smiles and shakes her head, “you truly think I come here to work?”

And that definitely does it. It is far more convincing than you needed to follow behind her and sit down by her side in the booth until your boss notices your absence and comes calling for you. It's far easier also to go about your day after she pulls into a quick kiss and tells you she will he waiting until your shift ends. It still feels like something you would need time to get used to, but you aren't complaining.

ellie.txt: to wyr: baby. promise you I'll make up to you with a much better kiyoko when I'm in the right mental space!! at least like 1% as good as you deserve, hopefully. until then, remember I love you so dearly, happy bday!!

gen taglist: [open, forms link]

@wyrcan @bakery-anon @lale-txt @kameyyy @wormsz @baylz @softpia @vertejay @bakingcuriosity @zukiakiraa @loveyislost

[afyrian]

hello lovelies!! i’ve come to the decision to start writing fics on a new side blog 🙂‍↕️ BUT i am certainly not deleting this account nor abandoning my projects. any current multichapter fics on here will be completed at some future time <3 (and any spin-offs will be posted to the new blog).

once again, this blog will not be forgotten, as it is my favorite child. i just think it’s time for something new/fresh!! so, if you’d like to continue our journey, follow me to @ottocre <3

[afyrian]

holy shit YER THEME 😭🙏💗 I LOVE IT SM *EATS UR THEME*

AHH THANK YOU!! 🫶 i hope my theme was scrumptious!!

[afyrian]

☆ dental care, bay 2 w/ mattsun | wc: 510

m.list

    "it'll be a quick trip, c'mon," you grasp at issei's hand, pulling him through the grocery store's automatic doors. 

  "you always say it'll be a quick trip and it never actually is..." he looks up at you, fingers grasping at yours, not quite ready to let go as your hand falls back to your side.

  looking back at him, you reach for a basket, certain you wouldn’t have more than a few items you’d be getting. you instinctively raise your eyebrows, pursing your lips into a lopsided and crinkled grin. “but you know you love me,” you walk into the main entrance of the store, the archway revealing a large convenient store with more goods than you could imagine.

  “oh, so you’re just using me for my inherent love of others? my profound goodness and kindness?” issei looks forward at you, hands quickly stuffing into his pockets, long legs quickly matching your pace.

  peeking back over at him, you carry a much more subtle smile. it barely grazes your lips, however, the feelings of infatuation fight for a giddy smile to come to surface. “oh sure, your ’profound goodness’ is just so widespread and powerful,” you raise your eyebrows, passing the frozen aisles and the baby aisle. 

  two aisles list dental and physical hygiene. issei stands beside you, looking at you calculate which one you should walk down. he narrows his eyes, licking his lips, “pick one and whoever wins has to buy the other one breakfast before class tomorrow.”

  “deal, now, my intuition says right… but we both know to never trust my intuition so i say left,” you look back at him, walking down the left aisle as he veers into the right aisle.

  walking down the aisle, you stop a couple times, grabbing a couple of other things you needed. more floss, another bar of soap that bubbles up just the way you like it, and finally, the toothpaste that you knew you would find. grabbing it with your hand, you smile to yourself, giving a quiet shout over the aisle, “found it!”

  “of course you did!” his voice echoes back, frequent footsteps quickly following as he peeks down your aisle.

  walking over to you, he tilts his head as he stares at the toothpaste tube. it isn’t the typical mint flavor, rather a lemon one. still giving the same cleansing ability, just slightly odder. “lemon? c’mon that’s a bit weird, no wonder you aren’t dating anyone, you must always taste like lemon,” issei grabs it out of your hand, examining the ingredients and the appearance.

  “wow, are you some kind of dating master or something? because i never see you with anyone either.”

  “just when it comes to you. i mean i’d kiss you, but wow that lemony breath is potent.”

  looking back up at him, you smile widely, setting the toothpaste back down. without a word, you grab at one of the minty ones. you would never be opposed to using mint toothpaste again, but this motivation seems to make the decision a whole lot easier.

a/n: for kam who requested mattsun and friends to lovers <3

gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @cherrysurf @lale-txt

@keicdcat @moochiwoochi @corvid007 @an-ever-angry-bi

[afyrian]

hi can i pslpslspslpls be added to the valentines taglist!!!! i love love love the idea omg

of course of course babe 🙂‍↕️🫶 thank you so much, i made it on a whim and i just like it so much

[afyrian]

☆ 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴

𝙰 𝙼𝚄𝙻𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚇 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝟷𝟺𝟸𝟾 𝚅𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴

𝙰𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙼𝚄 𝙼𝙸𝚈𝙰 ….…………………………………………..……………… $𝟷.𝟼𝟺 𝚁𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙾 𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰 ……………………………………………………..…….. $𝟸.𝟾𝟷 𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙸𝙾 𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰 ……………………………………………………….. $𝟹.0𝟿 𝚃𝙴𝚃𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙾 𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 ……………………………………………………..….. $𝟺.𝟺𝟼 𝚃𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙻: $𝟷𝟸.00

𝙰 𝚅𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴’𝚂 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝙴𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈

𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚁𝙰 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝟷𝟺𝟸𝟾 𝚅𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴

𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙸 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 ….……………..…………………….……………… $𝟷.𝟿𝟷 𝚃𝙾𝙾𝚁𝚄 𝙾𝙸𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 ……………………………………………………..…….. $𝟸.𝟽𝟺 𝙷𝙰𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝚆𝙰𝙸𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙸 ………………………………….………………….. $𝟹.𝟾𝟸 𝚃𝙴𝚃𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙾 𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 ………………………….…………………………..….. $𝟺.𝟸𝟾 𝙺𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸 𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰 ………………………………..………..………..….. $𝟻.𝟷𝟷 𝚃𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙻: $𝟷𝟽.𝟾𝟼

𝙰 𝚅𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴’𝚂 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝙴𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈

welcome to my first multicharacter collection <3 keep reading for some basic info…

- comment/send an ask to join the taglist - each fic will be mostly fluff - however, they will follow different tropes in order of characters shown above ~ exes to lovers ~ forced proximity ~ enemies to lovers ~ strangers to lovers - if i really enjoy this, i’ll add more characters!! - if you have a great idea, share it, and i may work off of it

anyways… i hope you all enjoy this as much as i have creating it <3

[afyrian]

☆ morning ritual w/ suna | wc: 360

m.list

    every morning, you wake up alone. your hand reaches over to the chilled cotton-blend sheets beside you. however, it’s always that, cold and lonely. you’ve acclimated to the loneliness of a weekday morning, even if every morning you still feel your hand reaching. reaching for his touch, his exposed back soft to the touch, just warm enough that your hand can explore the open air without freezing. 

  the only thing that makes this split second of solitude enjoyable is opening your eyes. the sun has started beating down into the room, inching its way to you. illuminating the wooden floor and the wall’s pastel paint, it points you to the exact thing that you need to see. a teddy bear sits back on the dresser, a cap resting on its head, titled slightly downwards. a note is placed in his lap.

  a sleep-drunk smile lines your lips, hand reaching out for the small paper note. it’s folded into a small heart, reminding you of the time you caught suna watching a tutorial. he sat cross legged on this very bed, hunched over as his fingers tenderly folded each edge. running your index finger along the smooth texture, you wait a moment before opening the note.

  admiring the design for one last time, you slowly unfold the note. when it’s fully opened, it starts with ‘my love’, just as it does every morning he isn’t there to greet you himself. suna’s handwriting flows with his style of writing, looking perfect for the love he pours into it. you try to read it without noticing the heart by his name at the end, however, it your eyes couldn’t stop darting towards the bottom of the note.

  he tends to start them all with ‘good morning’, short but sweet. suna quickly delves into him wishing he could be with you, commenting on how he always enjoys your touch early in the morning. smiling to yourself, you sit up in the bed, hand holding the note out in front of you. the letter comes to a close as he mentions chocolates on the kitchen counter, saying ‘i love you’ once more.

gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @cherrysurf

[afyrian]

☆ coffee orders w/ msby | headcanons

m.list

atsumu miya

- tends to choose coffee on the sweeter side - enjoys creamers and vanilla syrup - gets sugar free to convince his team it’s a ‘healthy’ addition to his breakfast - tried to drink dark black coffee for most of secondary school - thought it made him look cool - ‘one large black coffee… very grown up of me, huh?’ [atsumu] - until one faithful day you suggested he go for something lighter - you served him up black coffee once and every drink he took brought a frown to his face - so, with your recommendation, he goes off the deep end - cold foam, extra vanilla, creamer, everything - in which you had to advise him to tone it down - ‘maybe let’s just start with a little creamer and a little sugar’ [you] - ‘alright, if you think that’s best for me’ [atsumu] - and it ultimately was - now every time he walks into your coffee shop, you make a point to have it ready for him - even if it six in the morning

sakusa kiyoomi

- surprisingly enjoys a little sweetness - even if he doesn’t give off those vibes - usually he prefers a blonde roast with some sweetener - he enters the coffee shop and leaves promptly - never giving time for conversation or exploration - so you quickly start making his order every time he comes in - and he would have his money ready every time - until one morning he comes in and an outlet went up in flames and all the coffee machines couldn’t be used - ‘i’m so sorry, but we’re going to have to close for the day and get stuff fixed… since you’re already here i could grab a pastry for you’ [you] - ‘uh- yeah sure’ [sakusa] - it brought about a new friendship for you - he still ordered the same old thing - but he kept a conversation with you - asked how your morning has gone or if you have any plans - finally you convinced yourself to write your name on his coffee cup - which he messaged just a few minutes after

bokuto kotaro

- doesn’t really drink coffee - he typically enjoys a smoothie - mixed with an assortment of fruits and protein powders - bokuto also likes to get a muffin occasionally, popping by your shop - however, if he’s running late he’ll grab a coffee and muffin from you - typically it’s something small - usually an espresso or americano - ‘no smoothie, so you want an espresso?’ [you] - ‘yes, that would be great! i have a long practice ahead’ [bokuto] - on the mornings he has off or late, he loves to chat with you - really with anyone working or standing in line - he creates a small community everywhere he goes - to the point he recognizes multiple regulars - ‘so, you go to all these practices, what do you do it for?’ [you] - ‘volleyball! i have an extra ticket to this upcoming tournament, why don’t you come’ [bokuto] - and you could never say no to him

hinata shoyo

- loooves coffee - after living in brazil he got hooked on all kinds of coffee - can drink anything from black coffee to nearly pure milk or creamer - as long as it’s not decaf he is happy - usually brews his own coffee - however, since they started doing early mornings for practice he’s started buying out - not caring to clean it after use - purposefully got a cup holder for his bike - enjoys it when you write sweet messages on the cups - usually something along the lines of ‘you got this!’ - he can’t write his own notes so he likes to give you quick comments - ‘this coffee is the best! thanks for recommending it!’ [hinata] - all while running out the door - hinata always has time to chat on the weekends though - sitting at the closest table - eating some pastry taking way too long - what he doesn’t want to tell you is that he’s contemplating asking you out - and chickening out every time

gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @cherrysurf

[afyrian]

☆ wine and paintings w/ osamu | wc: 564

m.list

    a paintbrush sits comfortably between your fingers the end of the handle pressing against your lips. the wooden texture feels familiar to you, the way the hairs of the brush glide across the canvas surface feel like home to you. looking up from the canvas, eyes peering past your reading glasses coated with paint on the temples. there sits osamu, drinking a glass of wine. a plate of homemade onigiri and mochi accompanying. 

  a button up shirt reveals his collarbones, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. he stares back at you, examining every one of your features like he’s the one painting your portrait. however, he’s not. and osamu will never understand the feelings that you have when you’re painting him. how you notice the slight blue color within his grey irises, like water crashing onto stable rocks. 

  sometimes, you can even see a smile coming. his eyes slightly close some, his top lip protruding out as his tongue runs over his teeth. “what are you smiling about?” you question every time, dabbing your palette for a sunken red color to emulate the wine.

  and every time, osamu attempts to say he wasn’t or he was just thinking about how awkward this really is. however, this time, he lets the smile fully exist. his lips curl upwards into a beautiful letter to you, explaining in full just how much he enjoys this time with you. “i love you, you know that?”

  “of course, because i love you too. maybe even more so,” your eyes don’t leave the canvas as you say this, certain he can feel your love nonetheless.

  osamu shakes his head in your peripheral vision. his smile widens even more, to an extent you never thought possible from him. and in a fit of excitement and surprise, he shifts in his seat, pulling something from his pocket. you don’t even notice it at first, eyes focused on only your canvas and how his hair flows in different directions. it takes osamu to call for your attention for you to finally see it..

  a ring rests comfortably in a box, his hand holding it out to you. “we’ve been together for about two years now, and it’s been the best two years of my life. you make me feel alive, y/n, and that you’re everything beautiful with the world. would you make me the pleasure of being your husband?” his voice is soothing, words coming out that you never thought you would hear.

  “osamu, oh of course i’d love to marry you,” you get up from your seat, holding out your hands to press your palms against his cheeks, “you’re the most amazing person i’ve ever lied eyes on, my love.”

  he sits there for a moment, reveling in you standing in front of him, ready to marry him. however, he’s quick to notice the paintbrush still in your hand, a thick coat of paint coating some of his hair. looking up, your eyes follow his, noticing the paint as well. “oh- osamu i’m so sorry,” you immediately start laughing, pulling back the paintbrush and setting it on paper towels.

  “i would probably be more upset if it weren’t you, but i can’t seem to every find myself mad at you,” he laughs along, leaning up to give you a kiss, peppering your lips and cheeks with the sweet taste of red wine. 

a/n: happy birthday @solzscribblez <33 i hope it’s going well and you enjoy this fic gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @cherrysurf

[afyrian]

☆ hit rewind

sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader (mostly angst) m.list | wc: 1.8k | prompts: road trip + (kinda) second chances

   “you are such an ass atsumu,” you toss your backpack onto the couch, hands rising to press against your eyes and temples.

  “this is why i didn’t tell you, because you’d want to ditch, when you know it’ll be fun!” atsumu follows you into the apartment, shutting the door behind him so that your guests wouldn’t hear the two of you arguing over something that involves one of them.

  groaning, you look back at him, eyes wide, “yeah no wonder! you invited my ex to our trip and never even gave me a chance to process it. atsumu, i cannot go on a trip with him, and i especially cannot sit beside him and act like everything is okay.”

  “then don’t! you don’t have to talk to him, but we’ve had this planned for forever and you can’t back out now,” atsumu walks over to you, opening his arms for a hug that you know you shouldn’t give him.

  in the many times that atsumu has brought annoyance to your life, this was by far the worst for you. sakusa standing by the car, barely seeing you before you ran back into the building. he looked the same from when you last saw him (besides his many appearances in the news). however, something about him looked more somber. headphones blocked out the world, eyes shrouded in darkness by sunglasses. even a cloud covers the sun to perfectly cover him in dramatic shadows. 

  but you’re inclined to forgive atsumu, knowing everything he does is done with love. “alright… but if i start bawling in that car you’re not blaming me,” you wrap your arms around him, feeling his wrap around yours in a warm embrace.

  “i’ll kick sakusa out if it comes to that. now, let’s go on this trip and have some fun, which i know you can have,” atsumu pulls back, reaching for your bag and grabbing it to carry it to the car. 

  following him slowly, you lock the apartment door behind you. the key is cold in your hand, sharp and tingly beneath your touch. every step you take towards the building’s front door feels like you carry more and more weight. you feel sluggish as you can see his outline behind the car, practically feeling his hand in yours again. opening the door, you stare out at him, lips forming into a straight line.

  “let’s get this road trip started!”

  hearing atsumu’s voice feel comforting, in a way you would never admit. stepping into the large sedan, you look forward to see osamu staring at his phone. “osamu, you packed some of that onigiri, right? because i don’t think i can make this road trip without it,” you tap his shoulder, leaning forward before you buckle yourself in.

  “of course, and you brought black sesame cookies?”

  “you know me too well,” you sit back into your spot, staring out at your window as you hear the door beside you open.

  it rings through your ear, like an annoying mosquito you wish you could swat away. a bag is set next to you, pressing up against your leg. you know it’s his, you can see the badges sewn onto it, the tournaments that he won. sakusa’s gaze bores into you like you’ve never felt before. and all you can do is wait patiently until either you fall asleep or he does.

 it doesn’t come quick enough for you to finally feel at peace with him at your side. after nearly an hour of driving, you know that there’s much more to come. however, looking down at your phone, you hope that some quiet time will help suppress your feelings of betrayal and disappointment. especially when atsumu’s music choices are anything but somber. 

  looking up from your phone, you can see atsumu’s eyes in the rear view mirror. they’re wide and staring right back at you. watching, you can see his head nod towards where sakusa is sitting, eyes shifting wildly to help get your attention. your eyes dart towards sakusa. he’s sitting with his head in his hand, headphones covering his ears as his hair pokes out from beneath. 

  sakusa’s elbow rests against the door and your heartbeat quickens. seeing him again hurts, relaxing like he always did in your bed, the same headphones blaring soft music into his ears. as if he can feel your gaze blanketing him, he looks up and your gaze flickers back to atsumu’s rear view mirror. you’re not sure if he saw your eyes on him, if he could feel what you feel, but you definitely know that seeing him again is not what you wanted for this road trip.

  atsumu’s eyes meet yours once more and he raises his eyebrows. your jaw clenches before you lightly shake your head, staring back out your window. it’s mostly views of green hills and foliage. a mild hatred begins to boil within you, thinking of the last time you saw each other. the way he tried to hold your hand, run his thumb across your cheek in a trial run to reconciliation. the tears that fell from your chin and buried deep within your soul. 

  you knew it was only a matter of time until you saw him again, having the same friends and all. however, it’s like you’re back to the same spot, his old bedroom. the air was filled with a cologne-like scent, hints of sandalwood and caramel coating your nose. you see his volleyball jerseys hung up on his wall, something you urged him to do, to see how he’s grown. now all you can see are those jerseys wilted and crumbling beneath his touch.

  looking back at him, you can see him doing the same. meeting his eyes, it’s intoxicating. and you can quickly remember how you fell into his embrace so early on. the both of you turn back away, him pulling down his headphones, silence beneath the music for just a moment, “how are you?”

  his voice is just nearly a whisper, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. for anyone else to realize that he misses you, despite the only other two people in the car in-tuned to his feelings. “i’m okay… still running the bakery. sharing trade secrets with osamu,” you look up towards the twins sitting in front, head turning back to sakusa, “uh- how’s the team?”

  you can almost see him wince as you ask about the rest of the team and not him. “they’re good, although i’m sure atsumu has already told you,” sakusa purses his lips, shrugging his shoulders to appear nonchalant.

  “yeah, yeah he has. how about you? i know a lot of them are prepping for the national team tryouts,” clasping your hands together, you keep your eyes everywhere but where his is, biting your lip to keep your mind off of things.

  “i’m good, i mean not really but you know what i mean.”

  shaking your head, you look back out your window. the scenery looks the same, the same rolling hills with the same trees still sprouting along the road. “no, sakusa, i don’t know. and i will never know, and that’s just how it’s always gonna be,” your jaw clenches gaze darting back towards him. 

  atsumu, acting like he couldn’t hear you beneath the music, quickly announces that you’re gonna stop at a pit stop. you don’t need anything from the break, but having a moment with everyone out of the car will be nice, give you a time with just some good old fashioned peace and quiet. 

  the gas station is quiet, no other cars in sight on this lonely monday. “alright, i’m heading in, any snacks?”

  “could i get some pretzels or chips? you know what i like,” you look up at atsumu, gaze flickering to sakusa, noticing him furrowing his eyebrows.

  there’s something satisfying seeing him upset about your closeness with atsumu. seeing him squirm in his spot because he’s the one that let you go, not everyone else. osamu pipes in quickly after too, obviously eager to escape the awkwardness. “i’ll head in too. hopefully find something to drink that isn’t stacked full with caffeine…”

  both shut their doors behind them, leaving only you and sakusa. a part of you hoped that he would’ve left the car with them, instead of bringing in a palpable tension that lingers in your lungs. you stare out your window, steadying your breath despite feeling your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. every sour part of you wants to look back at him. but every knowledgeable part of you knows otherwise.

  “can we just talk-”

  “sakusa… please don’t bring it up.”

  “y/n, i just want to know what really happened. i feel like we just left and nothing was every actually solved, like a real relationship should be.”

  “what are you talking about? i just wanted to be loved, okay? i loved you so much, i felt it so hard in my heart,” you turn to look at him, one hand pressed against his bag, the other bawled up in a fist against your chest, “and all you ever did was leave. emotionally, physically. and it hurt, and god it hurt so much! but it’s over now.”

  sakusa reaches his hand for yours, stopping when he sees your hand recline slowly. “i don’t want it to be over, and i did love you, i still love you-”

  “stop it, sakusa. you don’t still love me, we are just seeing each other after a long time and it stirs things up,” you shake your head, staring at him, feeling your toes curl within your shoes.

  “i have loved you since the day i met you and i have never stopped, do not discredit that. do not discredit that it was just not the right time for us but it could be now,” sakusa takes his headphones off his neck and hang them on the back of the seat between you. 

  “this is the most passionate you have ever been about our relationship and that’s saying something. every time you say you love me, it breaks my heart. and the worst part? i’d always let you break my heart. so, please, stop. before we do something we both regret,” you bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing, eyes blinking to try to rid them of any heavy tears.

  sakusa scoots his hand towards yours, finally noticing that you’re not moving away. intertwining his fingers with yours, he nods, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “then let’s just sit here, i don’t want to break your heart again. i never did.”

  “deep down i know. i always have, so, i’m content with sitting here with you. you can’t really regret hand holding, can you?”

  “i never could with you.”

a/n: happy birthday @lale-txt <33 was gonna apologize for the angst but i know you like it so I won’t 👀 but anyways ily i hope your birthday has been splendid gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @cherrysurf

[afyrian]

line seven - cold shoulder m.list

    atsumu sits in the station's break room, legs crossed on another chair as he sips on an espresso. the spike of caffeine is the only thing keeping him awake as he waits patiently for sakusa to get there. ever since his discussion with you, he's wondered what happened to the spark that sakusa seemed to carry. the way he joked with you, talked as if he knew your coffee order and how you made the bed. 

  sakusa sat across from him at the dinner, rather than beside him. he sat next to you, knees touching, hands brushing. and atsumu found himself watching the two of you around work the next day, both acting like you didn't know each other. so, all atsumu can do is wait patiently for sakusa to come and give him the answers he desperately needs and desires.

  he's tried messaging him relentlessly about the situation. 'why was she upset?' 'why didn't you make her happier?' 'what did you do?' atsumu always knew that sakusa wasn't good with getting close to someone. he pulls back and isolates himself so that he can't be hurt. but in the end, atsumu can always tell, he's hurt nonetheless.

  "what are you still doing here?" atsumu is pulled from his thoughts when he looks up to see sakusa standing in the doorway, hand holding a decorated mug.

  he gets up from the chair, tossing his empty cup into the nearby trash can. walking over to sakusa, he peeks out the door and immediately gets to talking, "waiting for you! what happened with y/n? you haven't been answering any of my messages."

  "i haven't been because it's none of your business-"

  "you're my best friend of course it's my business. you two looked like you were having fun, like actual fun! something you never seem to indulge in. and then all of a sudden you're icing her out?" atsumu watches as sakusa sets a pod into the coffee machine, setting his mug below the spout.

  sakusa's jaw tightens and he keeps his eyes on the machine, unable to look at his friend. "we did have fun, but it's nothing more. i'm telling you now, nothing happened. we just had fun for one night and now we're coworkers again," he finally looks over at atsumu, noticing the way he immediately laughs, unbelieving. 

  "you're a fucking liar, sakusa. a fucking liar. 'nothing happened' you do know i know you by now? that i know when you've pulled away?" atsumu meets his gaze, making sure the two of them are on the same level, that they both know how unbelievably scared he is. 

  "what do you want me to say atsumu?"

  "that you'll talk to her, give it a chance. you’ve closed yourself off for far too long and it’s time to actually indulge in your feelings… which i know you have,” he grabs one of the bags of chips off of the counter, popping it open.

  sakusa looks back down at his mug as the coffee finishes flowing. there’s a part of him that knows that atsumu is right. that that night with you made him feel so free to be himself. to talk about things that he normally wouldn’t discuss with just a coworker. and yet he can’t help that bewildering feeling that forces him to back away before it gets too serious. 

  “i’ll try.. if you promise not to say anything else. you speak a word of this to y/n and i’m never going to onigiri miya with you again. and i’ll convince osamu to stop giving you free meals,” sakusa grabs a hold of his mug, listening to atsumu dig into the chips.

  atsumu narrows his eyes and nods, “okay, but if you pull away again, then i’m gonna hound you again. i’ll even shout it to the whole office.”

  rolling his eyes, sakusa gives atsumu a short wave and heads back to your booth. he walks down the same hallway he always walks but there’s an energy to him that he doesn’t normally have. he can feel his legs carrying longer strides, eager to get back to his seat. sakusa’s hands feel jittery, like he’s already had the full cup of coffee. however, he knows it’s because he’s still scared.

  he’s still scared to get to know you, to break down his walls and finally let someone in. it’s terrifying. yet he knows how freeing it could be to finally have someone to love. his hand grabs the door’s handle, a static charge shocking his finger, not helping with how fast his heart was already beating. 

  entering the booth, he looks over to where you typically sit. and there you are, some notes sprawled across the desk as you scroll through your computer’s list of songs. there’s a way you look so intriguing when you’re focused. fingers holding up your head from your temple to your cheek, biting your lip incessantly.

  sakusa almost thought he got out unscathed from looking at you for far too long, however, you quickly look up and meet his gaze. “good morning,” he nods, pursing his lips before heading off into his sound room.

  you let out a short sigh, eyes narrow as you look back at him, “good morning…”

  he wants to pretend like your cold demeanor isn’t his fault. however, sakusa tends to get a moment of clarity after his closures, realizing just how cold he can be towards others. and now, he’s just receiving the same treatment. doesn’t mean that he doesn’t look up at you every few seconds. from the moment you start the show to when you take your first break, sakusa is sure that you can feel his gaze boring into your face.

  much to his dismay, it seems your response to leave the room as quickly as you can, avoiding him at any and all costs. “i have some making up to do…”

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@ghostreader0307

[afyrian]

☆ chapter four - budding words m.list

    staring up a light pole, you hold up the last poster you're carrying. pressing it against the rough wooden texture, you spread out your palm, flattening it as best you can. grabbing a stapler from your bag, you press down each corner. a soft click noise releases as you push the stapler down, properly holding it up in place. you stand back for a moment, looking it over.

  it's a simple poster, outlining your curiosity, your want to know who this mysterious individual may be. behind every short message, you find yourself yearning for the love that hides in every descriptive line. with sage green hearts lining the corners, you hope that the person behind those words will finally reveal themselves. give you a chance to become more than just admirer and muse.

  however, for at least your walk home, you'll have to grow content with the idea that he may never reveal himself. your mind wandering to something much more real, kuroo tetsuro. looking towards the snow gathered along the sidewalks, it glistens under the bright midday sun. parts melting under the weather growing warmer for a few days. stopping in front of your shop's doors, you see a few people standing inside from behind the glass.

  pursing your lips, you walk inside, a little bell going off as the door pulls open. the people standing there look from yachi to you. they all immediately start speaking over each other, words muddling together. "i'm so sorry, what's going on?" you question, eyebrows furrowing downward.

  "i'm your secret admirer," all three men say at the same time, voices overlapping into a harmonic voice. 

  you look towards yachi, eyes widening into lengths she's never seen before. looking back at the men, you nod slightly, telling out a deep sigh. "well, you can't all be the secret admirer... so, how do you all think that we should go about this? actually, yachi can correspond the notes with your answers and i have flowers to deliver," you give her a smile, turning towards the back of the shop.

  "excuse me-" she starts saying, following you to the back of the shop, lowering her voice to a whisper when you reach the bouquets, "you're not just dumping this all on me!"

  "but these deliveries... and i know kuroo is usually walking home around these times," you pick and prod at the flowers, looking up at yachi who has grown a wide smile on her face.

  she clasps her hands together, bringing them up to her face. yachi frees her hands and brings them, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, hoping to do some prodding of her own, "so you can 'bump' into each other again?? one of you has to formally ask out the other, unless you think he might soon."

  you shake your head slowly, biting your lip softly. "i don't know, but i do know i like to see him. so i should really get going-"

  "nope, you're gonna sit down with me and verify these guys. plus, who knows, maybe one of them will even become more important to you than kuroo," she reaches her hands lower, wrapping them around your bicep and pulling you back towards the front of the store.

  following her slowly, you start to yearn for the deliveries, something that's never been your favorite. you barely know kuroo, and yet every part of you wants to see him. his presence is calming and yet fiery at the same time. you can joke with him, knock him over, and catch him in the same sentence with a smile. but you're stuck sitting there, listening to the men introducing themselves.

  "so, oikawa. we received an order last night from the store's secret admirer. it started with 'these flowers, while not handed to you directly...'. could you please finish it?" you question, pushing the laptop's screen down so that he can't see what it says.

  yachi raises her eyebrows as soon as you say 'the store's secret admirer', knowing full well that it's for you. however, she doesn't say anything as oikawa leans back in his chair, arm resting over the back of it. "uh, are a show of my love?"

  pursing your lips, you shake your head. "nice to meet you... oikawa, but that isn't what it says. please find your way to the front door, or if you're still up for it, there's plenty of bouquets for purchase," you give him a curt smile, turning to the next two people alleging to be him. 

  much like oikawa's attempt, you never heard the words 'blossom between my fingers. they represent every swirl in my fingerprints writing out my love for you'. they feel like they slip off the tongue, beautiful and elegant. and none of the men who came into the shop carried that elegance. their voices didn't match the one that rang through your head every time you think of the writer.

  "i'm going now, please take care of the shop!" you rush towards the back of the shop, grabbing the few small bouquets still in need of delivering.

  yachi watches as you head for the front door, seeing such a wide smile grace your lips. it's beautiful to her, and seeing you with such a smile made her happy. you're finally finding someone for you that most can't find, especially when they're so indulged in their work. "you know i will. if you aren't back by closing, i'll lock it all up."

  "thank you! i'll probably be back in time, but if not, feel free to take a few flowers for yourself," you give her a wave, pushing through the front doors and onto the busy sidewalk. 

  your deliveries are the typical ones, shops around town for people who don't have time to pick them up. a couple being older individuals who you deliver to every other week. heading for the residential part of time, you pass your apartment building. the large structure holding a beautiful interior. however, you know you can't stop for a break.

  passing down a street, you look around at the sights. apartment building windows lit up with different colors. some bedrooms carrying a color through the darkness, bright purples and blues giving way for unique personalities. you've always loved people-watching, the inherent act of understanding you're not alone in the universe. 

  that people are there and trying their best. it gives you hope, hope for a better future. one that could possibly include kuroo. the idea of him walking up to you manifests in your mind, carrying that same briefcase. he smiles as soon as he sees you, feet carrying him quicker than he can even think. "l/n?" he questions and you immediately believe you'd tell him to call you y/n.

  the words leave your lips quicker than you would've cared for them to. however, as you're imaging it all, you know that the slight embarrassment wouldn't last. but much to your dismay, as the imagery leaves your mind, you still see him standing there. his same old smile still haunting his lips, "sure, i can call you y/n. if you call me tetsurō. it's only fair."

  your breath hitches, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth. "okay- yeah," nothing coherent forms in your mind, leaving you speechless.

  "then that’s settled. it's interesting to see you here. you making deliveries?" he looks towards the flower bouquets, free hand stuffed in his pocket, the suit somehow always fitting him like a glove.

  "yeah. some home deliveries and then one of the local businesses has a book club tomorrow. so i'm just getting some in tonight. you heading home from work?" freeing a hand to reach up and scratch the back of your neck, feeling the metaphorical bugs covering you, the typical butterflies not in sight. 

  kuroo nods, looking out at the horizon and back to you, watching the sun descend in the sky. "how about we walk together? i can hold a couple of those for you," he nods, reaching his hand out to grab hold.

  not missing a beat, you grab a couple from the pile, handing it off to him. his gloved hands always make his touch feel so distant, like he's a thousand miles away. "thank you.. tetsurō. i will never stop appreciating running into you," you finally give him a warm smile, eyes still unable to stay trained on his.

  "well, every time we do, every swirl within my fingerprints will be at service to you," he whispers, something only you could hear amongst the sounds of light traffic.

  the two of you continue walking, but your eyebrows furrow, mind wandering. his words sound so familiar, so similar to that of your secret admirer. it felt memorable, beautiful within every word. "i think i can only say thank you enough," you knock your shoulder into his, heading towards an apartment building usually filled with older members.

  "okay, well, then it's my turn to say thank you if you’ll accept my company hiring you for their upcoming event,” he looks over at you, illuminated by the evening sun and streetlights turning on.

  “really? your boss is up for hiring me for the event?” you question, trying to hide the way your heart nearly skips a beat seeing him shine like that, “tetsurō, thank you!! you have no idea what this opportunity means to me.”

  he looks forward, shrugging his shoulders. “it was all your work, i merely showed it off, y/n. he loved your design and wants you to call tomorrow about some more. you should be really proud of yourself, i know i am,” kuroo follows you as you push the apartment lobby’s doors open.

  “not gonna say thank you, but i think you know how i feel.”

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