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foli-vora · 1 year

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radio static

pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this gif is a fucking mess but i refuse to fight with photoshop any longer otherwise i will literally throw my computer out of the fucking window. anyway. ep 1 got me all kinds of fucked up. enjoy some porn with very minimal plot.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: very brief mention of something happening but no details and no spoilers. swearing, domestic softness, couples banter, SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, brief handjob, nipple biting, creampie

It’s a hazy roll of pleasure, the bliss swimming through your bloodstream and stretching out along your limbs in waves upon waves of static heat.

He’s taking you nowhere fast, instead choosing to take his time, bouncing between leisurely working at your clit with firm, wide strokes of his tongue and dipping lower to force the muscle into your cunt and taste you deeper.

The threat of the climb lingers in the pit of your stomach, curdling low in your core and twisting further with every slick hot swipe and circle over your swollen clit. He’s doing it on purpose, dragging out your pleasure and intent on making you beg for it.

Soon—the words are already building in your throat.

A small part of you, the very small part of your mind that stays aware of what’s going on beyond Joel’s mouth, picks up on the sudden halt to the soft music that had been falling from the speaker next to your head, but it’s not enough to pry your attention away completely, not until the words destruction and mass incident suddenly break through the fog of lazy ecstasy hanging over your mind.

Would that explain the increase of emergency vehicles you’d seen on the roads lately? Is something happening? The reporter didn’t seem to be too panicked, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. It was their job to keep the calm forced into their voices. Mass incident? Destruction? What could it all mean? Were you all in danger?

“Can you turn that up?” You ask quietly, now distracted from the lips that break away from your cunt and press along the heated skin of your thigh. “The news—”

“Jesus,” Joel mutters against you before pulling away and looking up at you, “I’m out here with my head between your thighs, and you’re listenin’ to the fuckin’ news? You tryin’ to tell me somethin’, honey?”

“No, it just sounds important is all. Just for a minute, baby—please?”

He huffs quietly against you.

Chuckling softly, you jerk away from the blunt edges of teeth that gently dig into your flesh with a startled cry and swat at him. His tell tale smile curls against your skin before he lifts himself up with a low groan, bracing his arms on either side of your torso and reaching over to turn the dial on his alarm radio.

You ache at the loss of his mouth, your clit throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. The desperate clench of your core is almost enough to shove him back down there and forget the whole fucking thing.

He couldn’t seem to care less about what they were saying, returning to licking and nipping at your skin, planting kiss after kiss along your collarbone and trying very hard to pry your attention away from the story falling from the speaker.

He succeeds for the most part, your eyes fluttering when a hot mouth encloses over a nipple and sucks at the stiffened peak firmly, his large calloused hand wrapping around the other and squeezing the supple flesh greedily.

The news… focus. What was that about injuries? God, who cares—

“Joel,” you sigh softly, winding your fingers through his ruffled hair and tugging at the dark tresses, “I’m trying to listen—”

“And I was tryin’ t’have a nice meal, but someone had other plans—the goddamn news,” he rumbles in rough amusement, grinning against your tit before tracing his way to the other side. “You just let me know when you’re done and I’ll get right back to borin’ you.”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you groan, unable to keep the growing smile from tugging at your lips and back arching from the teeth that pluck at your nipple, your features briefly creasing from the shock of delicious pain. “Oh fu—again—”

He does. He nips and bites until you’re squirming under him, your hands clawing at his shoulders. His next bite is sharper than the last and enough to tear a whine from your throat from the harsh force of it. The sharp sting shoots straight to your core, the muscles of your cunt tightening as heat continues to curdle in the pit of your stomach.

A slick swipe of tongue soothes the leftover ache, the muscle winding round and round the abused bud and all thoughts of listening to the stupid news leave your mind.

Your fingers tighten in his hair and pull, tearing him away from your skin and diving forward to meld your mouth against his. It’s messy the instant his lips part, the kiss full of tongue and teeth with the taste of your cunt still lingering and now melting into your tastebuds.

“Careful,” he murmurs into your mouth, grinding the thick, hardened feel of his covered cock against your core, “don’t want to miss the weather report.”

“Dick,” you moan softly, feeling the soft cotton of his sweats dampen as they drag against your folds, “you know damn well you weren’t boring me.”

His chuckle is low, merely a rumble in his chest, but it sticks in his throat when you slip a hand beneath his waistband and wrap your fingers firmly around his hard cock, the thick length of it swelling in your hold. His hips jolt, briefly thrusting into your grip, and you’re the one chuckling now, your lips curled up against the brush of his facial hair.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

You tighten your hold, brushing the pad of your thumb over the weeping tip, smearing precum over his smooth skin before starting a steady pace up and down his length.

“Fuck—” his face crumbles, eyes slamming shut as the little dent between his brows deepens. “Move your hand out of the way, pretty girl, m-move—”

His fingers shake as they bat your hand out of the way, the long digits quickly wrapping around his cock and giving it one firm pump before lining up with your entrance and pushing forward. You hide your face in his shoulder, muffling your moan against his hot skin as his balls press tight against your ass.

“So fuckin’ warm,” he rasps into your throat, bracing himself on his elbows and encasing you into the mattress. “So—fuck, honey—”

He gives another thrust, pulling halfway out before rocking back forward, soon finding a steady rhythm that has you clutching at his back. The sounds falling your lips are caught on skin, the remaining sound of the muted cocktail of whines and groans dampened by the music now playing again.

“Joel, baby—” you breathe, running a hand along his throat and brushing a thumb over his lips as he works your body higher, his pubic bone rubbing and pushing against your aching clit with every upwards thrust, “—I love you.”

He physically shudders at your words, the cage of his arms hot and familiar. He nods, mouth hungry and messy as it tries to claim yours and you’re desperate to match his energy. The bed starts to give a creak with every steady plunge of his hips, and his hand flies up to clutch at the headboard, his biceps tensing with the effort he puts into silencing the bed.

“I—s-shit—I love you,” he pants, the hot breath of his sharp exhales washing over your mouth. “I’m not—I can’t—fuck, play with yourself, honey—p-please. Make yourself cum, show me—”

His thighs roll up beneath yours and soon he’s rising away from you to kneel, keeping a hand locked around the top of the headboard and using it as leverage to thrust up harder into your cunt. It’s takes every bit of energy to not fucking wail, one hand flying up to brace yourself and the other falling to where your clit throbs.

He watches, frown heavy and focused, as you press the pads of your fingertips to the swollen nerve, the muscles in your thighs twitching and tensing with the delicious attention.

It takes only a few circles of your deft fingers to send you over the long built up edge Joel had lazily built in your core, your face turning to hide in your outstretched arm to quieten your sounds of pure fucking bliss. He soon follows after you, urged on by the flutter and tightening of your hot walls around him.

The muscles along his jaw tighten with the effort he uses to keep quiet, his face creased and lost in his own waves of ecstasy as he fills you. Your cunt tightens around him one final time, the warmth of his cum soon seeping out from where his cock disappears into you.

He drops onto his back next to you, automatically raising his arm to welcome you into his side and you press into his body heat, pressing a wet kiss to his chest and trying to calm your breathing.

“Shit, were we too loud?”

You chuckle quietly, rest your chin over the hand splayed over his chest. “She sleeps like her daddy—she wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“That you guys are heavy sleepers, and it’s a surprise your alarm clock actually wakes you most of the time,” you grin, the curl of it widening when he rolls his eyes.

The steady blink of his clock catches your eye and you soften, stretching to press a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling them twitch at your feather light touch. He sighs calmly under your affection, his dark eyes openly searching yours and warming when you catch him.

“Oh, would you look at that,” you murmur softly, “happy birthday, handsome.”

i was gonna start all diff tags but i really cbf right now. i’ve just used my everything pp one - if you’re not interested soz x

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea, @sukunababe, @emiemiemiii, @your-slutty-gf, @wisecolornight

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

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Together or Nothing

Pairing: Vettel-Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr. Genre: Angst/Comfort Summary: Growing up with Carlos, you knew he’d be a special driver. If he asked you to follow him to the end of the world, you’d do it. But when his life in Formula 1 is in jeopardy, how far are you willing to go?

uhhhhhhh - I was inspired and I made an imagine after the complete clown show that was last tuesday. This is an apology imagine because this week is stacked and there might not be a TDITD update in the near future. So I'm feeding you all now. Never thought that my first imagine would be fore Carlos but here we are.

You had heard the rumors. But that’s what they were supposed to be. Just rumors.

Your dad had warned you that something big was going to be announced, but you never thought it would be this.

Well, some rumors can turn out to be true. Your mind was swirling with thoughts as you looked at your screen. Photoshopped pictures of Lewis in red was all that you saw. Conformations, hot-takes, and edits began to follow. People praised the prancing horse for securing the 7-time world champion. Podcast hosts immediately took to talking about how Lewis would be the best teammate for Charles. Everyone seemed honed in on the two drivers.

Yet, all you could think about was Carlos.

Carlos who had given his all to the Rosso Corsa team.

Carlos who was the only non-Red Bull winner in 2023.

Carlos who bled the Ferrari red, even sometimes more than their Il Predestinato.

Carlos who was slowly becoming forgotten in a matter of minutes.

Your heart ached for your friend as you read his short and blunt statement on his Instagram story. You could almost feel the sadness through the minimal words.

Your fingers flew to your messages as you messaged Charles. The Monegasque had known for a while, but had tried to get the Spaniard another contract. He knew that Carlos was one of the better drivers on the grid and disagreed with Ferrari’s decision.

You knew that Charles had so much respect for Lewis. Hell, everyone did. You don’t just equal Michael Schumacher’s championships every day. No one has even come close to it. Yes, Max was well on his way, but nothing was ever certain in the world of Formula 1.

Charles even complained about how he might not be number 2 driver in a team that didn’t believe in “driver priority.” Years of experience and 7 World Champions would definitely give someone the upper hand.

Swiping out of the messages with Chares, you brought up Carlos’s contact.

Your finger hovered over the message icon and then switched to call, then back to messages before you swiped out of his contact completely.

You fingers went to a different contact. You knew it was a hard decision, and it would take a lot of convincing, but you were determined.

Strict words were flown between you and your father. Having ties with a specific car manufacturer got you places, but this was in the wind. No one had asked for something this big – except you.

After the begging and borderline crying, you ended the call. Exhaustion was creeping up on you, but you had more things to do.

Once again, you clicked on Charles’s profile and pressed the call button.

“Hello y/n,” Charles’s voice echoed through the speaker.

You sighed. “How is he?”

Charles mirrored your initial sound. “He won’t pick up. I’ve tried texting, but he’s leaving me on read.”

You nibbled on your lips. “Have you called Lando?”

“He’s on his way here. He was in Woking for the suit fitting and debut.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can you send me his flight info if you have it? When he gets in, I’ll pick you up, then him. We can all three go see…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

An annoyed sound left your lips as you raised your voice. “Charles, be for real. If we’re honest, he bleeds red more than you do. He needs us. Needs his friends.”

There was silence for a bit, until Charles spoke up.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Sending you the information now.”

With a couple more thank-you’s and apologies, you hung up.

Lando was supposed to land later that evening and everything was in place.

A couple of hours later, Lando was in the back seat of your car with Charles in the passenger. The three of you sat in silence as you drove to Carlos’s place in Monaco. Lando was the first to speak up.

“So what’s the plan. I know you Y/n and if you haven’t made a call yet somewhere then you’re have no plan and this is just pointless.”

You rolled your eyes as Charles stared at you, waiting for some good news.

“I made a call to dad. He says he’ll get the ball rolling. We’ll know by tomorrow if they go ahead with it.”

Charles leaned in and adjusted himself in the seat. “And who is they?”

You hushed him. “A girl never spoils her secrets.”

Not long after, your car finally made it to his place. The lights were on, which was a good sign.

Carlos was home.

You swallowed thickly as you made your way up the stairs. Your hand lifted and knocked on the door. Charles and Lando were right behind you.

It took a couple of minutes for Carlos to open the door, but he eventually did. The sight was almost unbearable.

His normally kept hair was sticking up in different places. His cheeks were red, along with his nose.

He had been crying no doubt.

He looked tired as he slouched at the door, but straightened up when his eyes landed on you. They held a certain softness as he gazed at your face. But the softness hardened at the sight of the other two drivers. He opened his mouth to talk, but you raised a hand.

“They’re here for you Carlos. Please listen,” you pleaded, hand now resting on his chest. He looked down and then nodded, moving to let them in.

The three of you followed him in. You were half expecting things to be thrown everywhere and broken. Yet, the house seemed to be in perfect shape. He led you to the living room and sat on a chair.

You, Lando, and Charles all squeezed onto the couch in front.

A comment about school children and their principal wanted to leave your lips, but you held it back.

The Spaniard sat in silence as he waited for someone to talk first.

Charles inhaled sharply. His voice cracked the first time he tried to say something, but he persisted.

“I didn’t want it to be like this.”

When Charles finally looked up, Carlos could see the tears in the Monegasque’s eyes.

“I tried,” he swallowed, “I tried to get them to keep you on. Even tried to have them do an open ended contract like mine.”

Carlos spoke up. “Yet, you have said that you’d want Lewis as a teammate.”

Charles looked down again, almost ashamed.

“I half-handedly said that, and you know it. If you were asked you probably wouldn’t have said my name either.”

Carlos looked down at his hands. Charles was right.

He got up from the couch and crouched in front of Carlos, so they could be on eye level. Charles put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder.

“Together or nothing, right?”

Carlos nodded silently as he brought the brunet into a hug. The two men shed some tears as they hugged.

You knew how hard it was going to be on the Spaniard.

He often said that his one downfall was to love and love too quickly.

Lando was truly his first favorite teammate with Charles coming at a close second. He got too attached in a sport that was famous for their driver swaps.

Moving from McLaren to Ferrari had almost crushed his and Lando’s friendship. It took them months to be able to hang out without sadness hovering over their heads.

Now, Carlos was determined to not let that happen to him and Charles. Lando also wouldn’t let it happen, and neither were you.

The three of you stayed for a little longer, with you being invited to stay the night. Your hand was pushing against Lando’s face as he made kissy noises as he walked out the door. Your keys had been given to Charles with the promise that he’d keep your car safe.

That night, you held Carlos as he cried and cried. And when you thought he was done, he’d cry some more. You ended up not telling him about your plan, simply because you didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Yes, in the morning, you were being shaken awake by the Spaniard. His phone was shoved right in your face.

“Is this real?” he questioned, voice cracking with emotion.

There on his phone was the official announcement.

“PORSCHE OUTBIDS AUDI FOR THE 2026 SPOT IN FORMULA 1”

“EX-DRIVER SEBASTIAN VETTEL TO BE PORSCHE’S TEAM PRINCIPAL IN 2026”

“Y/N VETTEL TO BE RACE ENGINEER FOR NUMBER ONE DRIVER IN 2026”

“PORSCHE SECURED NUMBER ONE SEAT AND CONTRACT FOR SAINZ JR 2026”

The large headlines were giving you a headache, so you simply smiled and closed your eyes.

“Surprise,” you said, sing-singly and sleepy.

Carlos just looked at you and you could feel his eyes on your figure. You peaked out at him before sighing, tugging the comforter down as you sat up.

“If you don’t want it…”

“I want it.”

You shivered at the bluntness in his voice.

He looked from you, down to his phone, then back to you. “You did this?”

You nodded shyly as you leaned in closer.

“I know you and Charles have your own ‘together or nothing,’ but I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if it were possible Carlos.”

You waited for him to say something. Yet, he never did. He did something better though.

He kissed you.

“Together or nothing, mi Corazón.”

carlossainz55 has posted

carlossainz55 to my heart, I cannot thank you enough. you've given me the second chance that I didn't know I had. Together or nothing. Te quiero

liked by charles_leclerc, porschef1, y/n.vettel, and 104,204 others

smooth_operator I'M NOT CRYING YOURE CRYING

vamoscarlos the way I could see y/n convincing her dad to get Porsche to outbid Audi

carlos55 like he could have had a chance with Audi, but y/n wanted to make sure he had an actual seat. can Carlos fight?

charlos4ever I refuse to change my username - did you see them in the joint interview??

charles16 I know right? they looked like the old Carlos and Charles - y/n or seb must have done something carlando betting that they put them both in timeout or the get along shirt

charles_leclerc let's do our very best this season. and always remember that I'll only be a garage down :)

carlossainz55 cabron, did you think that I was leaving leaving?? landonorris he was crying when he called me after you posted y/n.vettel and that was after he called my dad too charles_leclerc IN EVERY UNIVERSE FROM THIS AUTHOR I GET BULLIED FOR CRYING author is it true tho??? charles_leclerc yes.

porschef1 we know it's a season away but we can't wait for for what 2025 brings!

sebastianvettel you better keep my daughter happy or you'll loose a second seat in two seasons

carlossainz55 yes sir

carlos_vettel the way he looks at her in the first picture...when's the wedding??

y/n_sainz all I'm thinking is who is going to take what last name (please hyphenate)

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr

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116t98 · 6 months

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My Heartsteel Headcanons

(Except they’re real things real kpop idols really did)

The guys solve all their problems/make all their decisions by playing rock, paper, scissors. Ezreal always loses

Except for that one time when he didn’t, and he literally got down on his knees and thanked God for him finally not losing

(Yone was the one who lost that time, btw)

Kayn ripped his pants in the middle of a televised performance

While playing charades, the others try (and fail) to make Yone guess “luggage”. A few minutes later, he’s only able to guess the word after Sett (with Aphelios’s help) pretends to be a luggage bag

Kayn can play “Mary Had a little Lamb” on the recorder with his nose. Yone asked if he could play something else, which promoted him to immediately play “My Heart Will Go On”

Ezreal told their fans during a live concert performance that he used to have a really nice jacket that he wore for some performances… until one of his stylists accidentally left it on a lighting device

Long story short, his Gucci burned

Sett cries at the end of every concert

A fan once left a comment during an Instagram live that read “I’m crying in the club”, and Yone immediately responded with “you’re in the club?”

Aphelios can perfectly forge all of his bandmates’s signatures; he’s signed Heartsteel memorabilia with everyone’s signatures before, without anyone else knowing

Ezreal yelled at Sett on TV for wearing insoles in his shoes even though he’s already tall

They like to play games during their concerts, like limbo and “who can unravel a roll of toilet paper the fastest?” (it’s K’sante, but Sett’s a close second)

When he first debuted, Ezreal promoted himself by passing out mints to strangers and asking them to listen to his song

Yone wasn’t able to join the others for a live stream once, so they called him to chat for a bit. Aphelios thought it be funny to hang up on Yone as soon as he answered the phone

He was right

Kayn once showed up to the airport wearing a dog head mask

During an encore performance, the guys decided to have a push up contest while they sang

(Sett swears he won, but everyone else begs to differ)

K’sante once mentioned during a TV interview that Kayn didn’t want to watch a movie with him bc he “doesn’t like watching movies”, which got Kayn (who didn’t want to look bad in front of any movie producers who were potentially watching) so worked up, he threw a pen at the table they were seated at… which bounced right into Yone’s eye

While he was promoting his debut song, Ezreal’s brightly colored stage outfits became a meme after he compared them to different kinds of Listerine online. The meme gained so much traction, Listerine actually sent him boxfuls of mouthwash and a customized cake decorated with some fondant Listerine bottles and a sugar doll version of himself on top

The guys tease Alune a lot. Like, a lot. Sett even once jokingly asked their fans to help them set Alune up on a date bc “she’s always solo” and “it’s so sad 🥺” (pray for her u guys)

K’sante accidentally knocked the head off of a department store mannequin

After watching one of their performances, the CEO of their record label complimented the group members individually, telling them things like “your voice is good”, “you look great”, “keep it up”, etc. But, according to Kayn, the CEO only told him: “your forehead’s wide, so you’ll succeed” (wtf does that even mean??)

Kayn and Ezreal had a Twitter war where they enlisted the help of their fans to Photoshop dumb memes of the other using whatever unflattering images of themselves could be found online

Sett has a habit of napping wherever he can. The guys take advantage of the opportunity by taking pictures of themselves posing around him while he’s asleep; some favorites include K’sante standing above him to recreate “The Creation of Adam”, Aphelios putting q-tips on his mouth, and Ezreal stacking random things on his chest

For his birthday, K’sante was surprised with a birthday cake at the end of their concert. As soon as he blew out the candles, the guys shoved him face-first into the cake. He then proceeded to chase them all down, lobbing chunks of the remaining cake at them

An interviewer once said “Ezreal’s not big” (referring to his height). Ezreal responded by saying, “how do you know I’m not big? 😏” (not referring to his height)

Aphelios choked on his water when he heard Ezreal tell a different interviewer “I’m an innocent boy” (he absolutely isn’t). As he choked, Sett told him to “watch out, babe”

Ezreal told Ernest to leave the frame of a video they were filming, but he spoke the command in Korean (I hc that he’s trilingual). When Ernest actually obeys the command, Kayn asks, in the most incredulous way ever, “your dog speaks Korean??”

*Sett promoting their music to random strangers*: “You want to be happy? Buy the CD! From Riot, listen in your MP3! You are not you and I am not me, bc we are one big family! 😁”

The guys once left Sett and K’sante behind at a gas station at night

Aphelios wrote Ezreal a heartfelt letter, written in Hangul, that he requested to be read during a live performance. Ezreal read the letter out loud; it started out well, until he realized that he recognized the words

He’d know the lyrics to the Sailor Moon theme song anywhere

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f1goat · 10 months

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the race loser x lando norris + part one

in which you see your ex best friend again after he cut of contact between you two.

not proof read - angsty

sunday - red bull ring

It can’t be. Lando doesn’t believe his eyes. His eyes must have lied to him. It doesn’t take his brain longer then a few seconds to fill up all his thoughts with you. Is there a possibility that you’re here? Here at Red Bull Ring during a race? He shakes his head. He should stop thinking like this. This is the kind of behavior that makes him lose focus which makes him lose points at the end. He tries to discard every thought he is having about you, but he can’t stop himself from looking in the same direction again while hoping to see you.

He knows his friend Max is here. He also knows that Max is one of the people who’s still in contact with you. Lando always tries to get information about you out of Max, but he never succeeded. Not that he deserves it, but still.

Before the start of this season Lando spend his whole vacation with you. Of course his friends were there as well sometimes, but you were the one who was always around him. He already knew that he had a crush on you, but that holiday it turned into so much more. At least, for him. It took him one week after his vacation to ruin everything between the two of you. It was the first race weekend. Even now when it’s more then a couple months ago, it still hurts him to think about it. He hates the way he acted that day. He hates himself for causing this. It’s all his fault.

sunday - bahrain international circuit

“Don’t,” Lando speaks up with a loud voice, “Don’t come in here to tell me it will all be better soon. Because it won’t.”

He doesn’t notice the way you shake a bit because of the harsh undertone in his voice. He also doesn’t notice the way you can’t stop looking at him. Lando doesn’t look at you, he’s focused on his phone. The race is barely over and he’s already reading multiple tweets about the failure of McLaren. It doesn’t surprise him that there already memes made. Normally he can laugh about them, but when he sees a McLaren photoshopped tractor with himself and his teammate inside he doesn’t laugh. He’s closer to crying then to laughing.

You don’t know what to say. Lando is getting annoyed by his own thoughts. He wants nothing more then to bathe in your comfort. Would it be a bad thing if he would let you comfort you? He already imagines himself laying with his head on your lap while you try to encourage him about the car. As quick as he can he discards his thoughts about you.

This kind of behavior makes him a loser he thinks. He can’t even focus half of the time because he keeps thinking about you. Even in the car it’s always like that. Whenever he makes a good move, the first thing he wonders is if you saw him. He’s way too distracted by his own thoughts and they are all about you.

“Lan.”

He barely hears you at first, but he does look up at you. He notices the way you look at him. The pitiful look almost pains him. This isn’t how he wants you to look at you.

“Don’t,” Lando says again, “Please don’t pity me.”

“I’m not,” you tell him softly, “I’m here for you.”

He notices the way you try to come closer to him. It costs him all of his energy to move away from you. He can’t be weak. Not now. His mind if made up. He needs to regain his focus. You are a distraction. As long as he’s crushing on you, he can’t focus fully on the races. He needs his focus.

“Maybe I don’t want you to be,” Lando states.

“What do you mean?” You ask him confused.

Lando lets out a soft sigh. This is already hurting him. It’s all for the better good. Zak told him about distractions before. You can’t become a race winner if you can’t focus. He has had this conversation with Zak so many times, he never did something with it. But now he feels like it’s the only chance he has left. He needs to focus on racing this season, he can’t focus all of his energy on you. It will be better. Zak told him that you would understand him, it was logical after all. Maybe his crush will even fade away, then it will be easier to be friends again.

“I need space,” Lando explains. He can’t help but notices the hurtful tone in his own voice. He tries to lose it. It’s his decision, he shouldn’t be sad about it. “And I need to focus on racing,” he goes on, “now I focus too much on us. I’m always busy with us.”

“What are you saying?” You ask him. Lando notices the sad tone in your voice. He doesn’t dare to look at you. “I can give you more space if you want? We don’t have to hang out every time you’re free.”

“I think I need to get away from you for a bit.” He can barely say the words. It already pains him. He tries to focus on his future as a race winner, but he doubts it will be worth it. Is he really giving up on your friendship? Fuck. His body fills up with regret, but he knows it’s already too late now. He said the words. There’s no going back.

“Oh.. Uh,” you can’t form the words you’re searching. Lando hears the soft sob coming out of your throat. “Why?” You ask him.

“I need to focus,” Lando repeats himself. It hurts him to look at you. It’s wrecking him to look at the tears he caused.

“Are you going to break with all your friends?” You ask.

Lando shakes his head.

“Why me?” You continue to ask.

Lando keeps silent. You let out a sob. When it has been silent for a few minutes you decide to walk away. You won’t get a clear answer. Lando watches you walk away. He knows it his own decision and his own fault, but in his mind he’s running after you. Telling you everything about his feelings, kissing you and keeping you close to himself. But he can’t. He tries to focus on Zak his words. He hopes it will soon feel better like Zak told him, because he can’t see himself focus better if this memory is the last one he has of you.

sunday - red bull ring

When he races past the same corner, he notices it again. Is it actually possible that you’re here? He tries to think back at what Max told him before the race. Where was Max seated today? Is it in the same place he thinks you are? Could it be possible that Max took you with him?

After Lando broke off the contact with you - which included blocking you on almost every social media platform, another advise from Zak, he didn’t feel any better. He uses his socials to write messages to you, messages that you will never receive. He writes about missing you. About loving you. About not being able to focus any better now. It’s shit. He uses his fake Instagram account to look at your account. He scrolls back through all the photos of you and sometimes you with him. He can’t stop looking at your highlights, he tries to experience every memory over and over again.

He can’t. He can’t get his cheerful feeling back. He doesn’t feel the same anymore, he only feels shittier every time. Whenever he looks at the memories, he reminds himself of what he threw away. He should never broke off the contact between you two. It was a mistake. The biggest mistake he ever made. Not because it isn’t even working - his focus is only away further, but because it isn’t worth it. He misses you. Sometimes he wakes up at night gasping for air because he realized again that he’s never getting you back. Other nights he cries himself to sleep while thinking about everything he threw away.

Zak told him it would be hard at first. But now after a few months Lando can safely say it’s still hard. He can’t find out one small benefit from his actions. The car is getting better, but only because the updates are finally working. And now when the car is finally good enough, Lando himself isn’t. He thinks about how it would have worked out if he didn’t cut you off. Then there would have been the same updates and he would feel good. Yeah, a bit distracted because of his feelings for you, but still happy.

+++

“Why did you bring me here Max?”

Max looks up at you as if it’s a dumb question, but you can’t figure out what you’re doing in Austria right now.

“I had a spare ticket,” Max shrugs.

You know he’s lying.

“So you decided to bring the person your friend, who gave you to tickets, doesn’t want to see anymore? That seems like a stupid plan,” you say a bit annoyed.

“Just wait y/n,” Max tells you, “It’s about time you see how this focussing on racing is treating him. And then the two of you are going to talk.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you say softly, “he wants nothing to do with me.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Max states, “We just don’t know what happened yet. I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation for this.”

“It has been months, I don’t think he regrets it.”

You’re a bit distracted from the race for a couple minutes while talking with Max. When you’re about to search for Lando his McLaren again, you hear a loud banging noise. Did something happen? You look around at the track. At first you don’t see it. Until you look right under your nose. Fuck how did you miss that? When you we’re busy searching for Lando and talking with Max, the papaya McLaren car crashed right under your nose.

Is Lando already out of the car?

You try to find an answer to your burning question, but it seems like Lando is still in the car. That can’t be good right? You feel yourself getting more panicked.

“What happened?” You ask Max, “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Max whispers. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I knew this would happen.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Because his focus is even worse, fuck. I took you here to show you that his action didn’t make any difference. I wanted to show you that Lando was in a worser shape without you, but I didn’t expected him to crash right in front of us,” Max explains.

You don’t look at Max. You can’t look away from Lando. There are multiple people around his car. They are trying to get Lando out of his car. At least that’s how it seems. You feel like you can finally breath properly again when you see Lando getting out of his car. You let out a relieved sigh when you see him walking without support from the stewards.

“Can we go see him?” You ask Max.

Max is also letting out relieved sounds now he knows his friend is walking on his own.

“Yeah, I think he needs to get checked out first by the medical team. But we can already go to McLaren so we can see him right after,” Max tells you.

+++

“What was that Lando?” Zak is standing right in front of him. The medical staff is still busy with checking him. Lando lets out a sigh.

“I crashed,” he dryly comments.

Zak mutters something, but Lando can’t hear. It’s probably some sort of curse word. “Why did you crash? It seemed like you just let go of the car in that turn.”

“I was distracted,” Lando states. He doesn’t tell Zak what caused him to lose focus. When Lando took that turn again, he couldn’t help himself and tried to find you again. Then he actually saw you. Of course, he saw you just enough to knew it was you, but still. Before he knew it he lost control over his car and ended up crashing.

“By what?” Zak asks annoyed.

“By how I need to fix things with y/n because cutting contact didn’t do the trick,” Lando says softly. “I want her back here. And I’m never listening to your idiotic advise again.”

After he said those words the door is opening again. Lando lets out a relieved sigh, he isn’t sure how mad Zak will be at him so he can use a small distraction. A nurse is appearing in front of them, “It seems like you were lucky today. There’s nothing major going on, but you do need some rest.”

“Can he race next week?” Zak is quick to ask.

“If he gets enough rest this week,” the nurse answers quickly, “I suggest a couple nights of going to bed early and making sure you sleep eight hours a night.”

Lando almost snorts. He won’t do that. He can’t. Every time he tries to fall asleep, he ends up thinking about you for hours.

“There are some of your friends here as well, can I let them in?” The nurse continues.

“Yes,” Lando quickly responds.

“In the mean time you can come with me,” the nurse tells Zak, “We can share some ideas for fast recovery.” She walks out with Zak, but does tell Lando that his friends will be here in a couple seconds.

Lando wonders which friends are coming. He knows Max is here, so he thinks he will be one of them. Maybe the race is already finished and his other friend from the grid - Max Verstappen - will also visit him? Lando doesn’t know who else should be here for him. His mind goes over to you again, but he’s sure you’re not one of the friends that’s waiting to visit him.

It doesn’t take long for Max to enter the room. Lando isn’t surprised to see him.

“Are you okay mate?” Max is quick to ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lando assures him, “nothing too bad.”

“What happened?” Max asks further.

“You’re going to think that I’m insane,” Lando says, “but I was so sure about seeing y/n. I got distracted. I thought I saw her and then I lost control over the car. I probably made it up, but I couldn’t focus during the race at all. Like every other race. I told Zak I’m going to find a way to fix things between me and her. But I think she hates me. Can you help me?”

“Mate you’re rambling,” Max says with a small smile, “Why did you tell Zak that you’re going to fix things?”

“Because he was the one that kept telling me to cut ties with her!” Lando exclaims annoyed, “He told me I needed to do that so I could focus properly. At first I didn’t listen, but then I was so mad after the first race this season that the words flew out.”

“I might have brought someone with me today,” Max says after a while of thinking, “but you need to promise me to stay calm. The nurse is going to kill me if you’re going to panic yourself into a heart attack.”

Lando can’t stop himself and thinks about you. Is it possible that Max is talking about you as well? It can’t be.

“I promise,” he quickly says.

Max walks away, only to return a small minute later with you next to him.

Lando doesn’t know what to do. Are you actually standing in front of him? He stands up from the chair he was sitting in earlier. He walks closer to you. In the corner of his eye, he notices Max walking out of the small room. He can’t stop looking at you. The first thing he notices it the tired look you have, you even seem worried. Then he notices the shirt you’re wearing. A simple Quadrant one. Normally you always wore his own merch while attending races, but he’s still glad you’re wearing at least something that’s close to him.

You don’t know what to do as well. Lando is standing closely in front of you. You notice the way his eyes are looking at every part of you. You realize that you’re probably doing the same.

“I’m so sorry,” Lando says after a while.

“I heard about Zak,” you respond, “Is it really true that he made you cut ties with me?”

Lando nods. “I shouldn’t have listened to him. I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“Let’s talk about it later,” you say.

“Can I hug you?” Lando asks you with a few doubts. You nod quickly. Lando moves even closer towards you and drapes his arms around your body. You feel yourself warming up.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you tell Lando with a soft voice.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Lando thighs his grip on you. Hugging you even closer then before. He can’t stop thinking about how lucky he is to have you in his arms like this again. He knows things aren’t fixed yet, but he’s hopeful to make things right with you. Everything. Even telling you all about his feelings.

i think there will be a part two of this! let me know if you guys want that as well :)

part two

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fanfiction #formula one #f1 #lando norris x you

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wolfes · 1 year

Photo

[Caption: a yellow and green gif of Alina from Shadow and Bone; the first gif of her looking away from Mal fades into her crying over him. End caption.]

TRANSITION TUTORIAL by v @shangs

I got some questions about how I did the glitch effect in this set, and I think because the glitch sets with green and magenta/red and cyan protrusions like this one are more complex that the effect seems like it’s hard, but it’s deceptively simple! I’ll show you how to do transitions like this with an effect buffer in between, whether it’s a glitch effect or a light leak or anything else.

What you’ll need:

Photoshop with timeline (I use 2022)

A transition video for the effect

Preferably, a good knowledge of how to use the timeline for gifs

Two or more gifs

Tutorial under the cut!

I start out with my two gifs, sharpened, colored, on separate documents, and in timeline mode. The first thing you’re going to do is convert both of your gifs into Smart Objects, so that we don’t have to worry about all the coloring layers. Just select everything you have in the timeline, right click, and convert to Smart Object.

Now, right click on one of the gifs, select Duplicate Layer, and transfer it to the other gif’s PSD. Then just click File > Save as Copy, save the new PSD wherever you like, and close the first two PSDS, then open the copy. I recommend not saving your work in the first two PSDS with the single gifs so that if you have something you want to change, your gif isn’t locked into Smart Object Mode and you can go back to edit things.

Now, you have both your gifs on the same canvas in the same PSD. The timeline should look like this:

[Caption: A picture of the Photoshop timeline so the gifs’ boxes are in a stacked line.]

Now, drag the gif you want to go second or to ‘fade in,’ so to speak, onto the row of the first. Your gifs will automatically form a Video Group and the timeline will look like this:

[Caption: A picture of the timeline with the gifs’ boxes side-by-side.]

Now your gifs will play sequentially! I’m lucky and for some reason this almost 80 frame gif didn’t even hit 10mb, but you may need to trim some frames off the ends later if the gif is too big.

Let’s switch gears and look at this unassuming little box in the corner of the timeline. The box with the white filled in triangle on the bottom holds Photoshop’s premade transition effects. You can do things like fade to black, crossfade, just fade between two gifs, and more.

[Caption: A photo of the square on the timeline that has Photoshop’s transition effects.]

I like using the Cross Fade effect for my gifs with this method, but it’s entirely up to you what effects you apply! Some transitions may even work better without an effect. Experimentation is key.

[Caption: A photo of the timeline with the triangles denoting the cross fade effect put between the gif boxes.]

I went ahead and applied the cross fade effect to my gif, and this is what it looks like on the timeline.

Now to add the gif effect! Make the gif however you would like. For this one I actually recommend just opening the video with File > Open as long as it’s small enough, and it’ll open as a blue box on the timeline and if you right click it you can change the speed. Regardless, what I do is just make the gif, sharpen and trim to my liking, then duplicate that layer onto my timeline (just make sure that, when you click the three lines on the timeline menu and go to Set Timeline Frame Rate, that the rate of this video is the same as the rate of your two gifs from before, or you might get some choppy frames). I then place the gif around the middle, where the transition happens - you have to scrub around to find the perfect place to put it but I like to have it so that the gif covers both ends of the transition.

To put it visually, here’s the timeline:

[Caption: A photo of the Photoshop timeline with the effect overlay stacked on top of the base gif.]

Your overlay gif should be outside the video group of your base gif.

I set the overlay to Screen and change the opacity. You can also add some color overlays - I actually went in with a gradient on top of the overlay, clipped it to the transition, and set it to Color so it wasn’t too bright of a white on my gif.

Save and export as normal - I like to take it back to frames mode before I save so I can keep the frame rate at 0.05 - and that’s all! A really simple way to get a sophisticated-looking transition.

Happy giffing!

#gif tutorial #completeresources #userphotoshop #resourcemarket #userrobin #arthurpendragonns #ughmerlin #usersameera #usercim #usertix #usermarsy #useraish #tuserlucie #userzesty #userfaiths #useraphrodite #userautie #edit help #tutorial

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goldenjupiterz · 5 months

Text

pretty smiles - kim seungmin

PAIRING ➝ kim seungmin x photographer!reader

GENRE ➝ fluff, comfort

WORD COUNT ➝ 0.5k

WARNINGS ➝ established relationship, not proofread

NOTES ➝ lowercase intended!

YOU WERE DEFINITELY NOT A morning person. in fact, you despised mornings, and tended to avoid them at all costs. and waking up long before the sun had risen to answer a call from your boyfriend was certainly on the list of things you hated.

“hey, what’s up?” you mumbled into the phone, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“you know those pictures that you took a couple days ago?” he asked, his voice hoarse as if he had been crying.

you frowned, sitting up more alertly. “yeah, i remember.” how could you forget the pictures you took of him at the beach, the wind blowing through his hair as he grinned cheekily at you? “what about them?”

“i was wondering if- nevermind. it’s stupid.”

“no, tell me.”

a long pause, and then he let out a small sigh. “i was hoping you could use photoshop to edit my smile. i was reading comments on my vlive and someone said that my smile looks ugly,” he mumbled. your face dropped instantly at his words.

“i’ll be there in five.” with that, you hung up the phone, grabbed your keys and id, and ran out the front door, the biting cold air barely bothering you. you slid into your car and drove to the JYP building, tapping your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as you drove as fast as you could without bypassing the speed limit.

soon enough, you arrived, and you’d barely finished parking when you hopped out, walking toward the building as you’d done over and over already. you showed your id to the guard standing there, who gave you an odd look as you went inside, probably wondering why you were going inside so early in the morning.

you walked inside, making your way to the elevator and pressing the cool, metal button. your foot tapped anxiously on the floor as the elevator went up, and when it dinged, you’d barely waited for the doors to slide open before you were making your way to his room. you didn’t even wait for him to open the door before you stepped inside, shaking your head at the fact that the door was unlocked, although you were hoping that it was.

seungmin’s head snapped up from his spot on the couch, and you could clearly see that he was upset. without another word, you went to his side and rested your head on his shoulder.

why would i ever edit your smile? you wanted to say. it’s the smile i fell in love with. instead, you stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“you’re in your pajamas,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. you blinked, realizing he was right.

“yeah, well, that’s what you get for being so stupid and idiotic that i didn’t have time to change,” you shrugged, your arms still wrapped around him in a tight hug.

a beat of silence passed, and then he whispered, “i’m glad i have you.”

“me too.”

taglist: @minleeeknow @crybqbyme

#stray kids #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #skz #seungmin #seungmin imagine #seungmin x reader #stray kids comfort #seungmin comfort #goldenjupiterz

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feyhunter78 · 5 months

Text

Chapter Eleven - Security footage reveals an unpleasant truth and Miguel makes a move Ch 12

Y/N: Miguel, you didn’t need to get me flowers, that was so sweet, thank you!

Miguel smiles and sends you a quick message back before pulling up the surveillance feed and accompanying text Kasey sent him.

Kasey: Dude is an absolute loser, my condolences to y/n, but are you sure you want to do this?

Miguel: It’s in her best interest, thanks for your help, good luck in Vermont.

It takes no time to send the security footage of Todd and Kasey to your phone along with a short message from him explaining how sorry he was to have to show you it, that Kasey fessed up because she felt so guilty.

He has to be there, has to console you if you need consoling. He knows you, knows that even though you want to leave Todd, seeing him cheat on you will break your heart.

Miguel stands outside your office, and even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he’d be able to hear the argument you’re having.

Raised voices, accusations thrown back and forth, you’re upset, rightfully so, Todd had cheated on you, with more than just a kiss, and he showed no remorse.

“No, are you fucking serious? You cheated on me.” Your voice is angry, seething, marked with hysterical laughter. “I’ve got the fucking footage right in front of me.”

“You’d really believe some random grainy footage over me? It’s probably photoshopped.” Todd says.

You scoff. “Photoshopped? Why would someone photoshop this, who would even do that? You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying I’m hurt you don’t trust me.”

“You’re so—I can’t even—I’m done, I’m done, you know what? We’re done, it’s over, don’t ever fucking call me again.”

“You know what, call me when you’re done with your temper tantrum, then we can talk about this like adults.” Todd snaps.

“No, we’re done, it’s over.”

Todd laughs, “I see what this is. You’re just doing this so you don’t look like the bad guy, so you can go off and mess around with your fucking coworker.”

“Are you serious? You cheated on me with said coworker’s date.”

“No, I didn’t, it wasn’t like that.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, you can’t make me think I’m crazy. We’re over, Todd, leave me alone.” Then you hang up, throwing your phone onto your office couch and burying your face in your hands.

Miguel waits a few seconds then knocks on your door as he opens it slowly. “Y/N, everything alright?”

He expected you to be crying, to be heartbroken, but you simply look angry, and almost relieved.

“Yeah, I—Todd cheated on me, he tried to act like I was crazy and just making it up, but I mean you know it happened, you literally sent me the footage. Thanks for that, by the way.”

You let him gather you up in a hug, closing the blinds to your office window, and locking the door behind him without you noticing. “You deserved to know.”

You nod, face pressed to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. “I know I’ll be sad later, but I’m just so glad that it’s over. And I’m so mad that he tried to deny it, he literally tried to gaslight me.”

Miguel smooths down your hair, humming in response.

“I just want him to hurt, but I don’t know how. Maybe I could slash his tires or put sugar in his gas tank?”

He pulls back slightly, the venom in your voice is intoxicating, he wants to see the inferno raging in your eyes.

Miguel, he thinks I’m doing this to get with Miguel, what if… Your thoughts are swirling, fantasies and revenge plots forming and unraveling as you mull your options, deciding if you have the courage.

“Use me.” He says, drawing your attention back to him. “As a man, there’s nothing worse than knowing the woman I lost is…engaging in intimacy with someone else, someone better than me, or receiving something I didn’t.”

He’s practically salivating. The images in your mind are salacious, ranging from a simple picture of his cock resting on your tongue, to a short clip of you riding him, moaning, and mewling for him, the camera focusing on the way you take his cock so well, how it stretches you out.

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that maybe be dangerous, like what if he takes it and posts it somewhere?”

“He won’t, trust me.” He cups your cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. And he’ll delete the images from Todd’s phone immediately after Todd sees them.

You lean into his touch, and he can feel your arousal, a slight trickle, building slowly as your mind continues swirling through lewd images and ideas. “And you would be okay with it? I don’t want you to do this because you feel obligated, or sorry for me.”

“I offered, and I meant it.” He says, meeting your gaze, searching.

You shake your head and step out of his embrace. “No, no, I can’t that’s crazy. I’m not going to stoop to his level. Besides, if we did do something and send it to him, then that just proves him right.”

He mourns the loss of your warmth, the feel of your skin on his, but you’re right. He’d never want to give Todd the satisfaction of knowing he was right, of having something that like to hold over your head. “I understand.”

“I think I’ll just block him on everything and be done with it.” You say firmly, quickly blocking and deleting Todd from your phone.

You’re a better person than him, always have been and in this moment, he wishes you weren’t. Wishes you would’ve gotten on your knees for him, let him take a photo of his heavy cock resting on your tongue, or let him split you apart, juices dripping, wetting his skin, as you sang so prettily for him.

He allows you to step further out of his orbit, regaining your self-control, shyness falling over you like a thick veil. There’s nothing stopping you two now, no barrier, no mortal man, and he can sense how anxious and out to sea that makes you feel.

“Can I take you to dinner, an actual dinner, with food we both like, and no unwanted guests?” Miguel asks, reining in his own self-control, he’ll push his desires aside, he’ll always push them aside when it comes to you, to the fragility of your emotions in these vulnerable moments.

You fiddle with the edge of your phone case, not quite meeting his eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d love that.”

TL:@obi-mom-kenobi, @poutysprouty, @oharasfilipinawife, @laysmt, @cicithemess, @unabashedcroissanttreefan, @lynxslokley, @thedevax, @generalkenobitrash, @keiva1000, @wilmontana987

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #vamp!au #vampire!miguel #morgue miguel #vampire!au

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offbrandkyoya · 11 months

Text

48 fine then

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You sat there for a good moment. Your eyes glanced down at the article occasionally. Should you tell Thoma? It might not be true but the pictures say otherwise. You continued to stare at your phone. Maybe you should tell Childe? He’s the one who sent you Thomas pic in the first place. Though, he said it was private information.

You bit your lip. ‘What to do, what to do?’ “Hey.” You jump when you felt Scaramouche sit next to you. He looks at you in confusion. “What’s wrong?” You shifted a bit. “Um, well, it’s…” Scaramouche feels himself panic. Was it about the kiss? You seemed into it so he thought- “It’s about Thoma.” Suddenly, his eyes went cold. “What?” You sigh before showing him the article you received. You watched as he slowly took in the information, his eyes widening at each word.

He pulls away once he finished and looks at you with an unamused expression. “So what?” It’s your turn to be surprised. “W-What?” “It doesn’t have anything to do with us so why worry?” “He’s my friend! This adds up to why Childe doesn’t want Thoma to be known to me!” Then, you looked down at your lap. “And why he felt uncomfortable when I talked about DCKZ.” Scaramouche’s brows furrowed. “This has nothing to do with you.” He states but you didn’t believe him.

“Scara, if it gets out that Thoma is dating me to the media and later fans confirms that he’s from Dilucs dating scandal, who knows what can happen! It can possibly not only ruin Dilucs but DCKZ entire career!” He scoffs, “You’re speaking nonsense.” “I’m not! Why can’t you understand-“ “I do understand!” He balls up his fists. “Yn, seriously, this is all bullshit. Do you even believe that’s true?! It could be photoshopped for all we know!” You furrowed your brows and stood your ground. “I’m trying not to cause anything in the later future. Dilucs my friend and-“ “You guys aren’t close, yn! I introduced you to them but that doesn’t mean you guys are buddy buddy.” You grow furious and stand up, placing your phone on the table.

“What’s your problem? I’m trying to speak rationally!” He stands up as well. “You keep saying all that but if you tell them, that’ll start something!” “How?! Enlighten me Scaramouche!” He grits his teeth and you roll your eyes. “Honestly, it’s like I can never satisfy you.” “That’s not even true! God, I get jealous once and suddenly I’m the bad guy!” “I didn’t say anything like that!” You felt your vision go blurry.

“It seems like it! Is Thoma your new guy now or what?” You gasp, “He’s my only friend from school! Are you trying to say I’m cheating on you?!” He scoffs, “Oh please! You were all over him. ‘Friend’ my ass! You clearly prefer him over me!” “That’s not true at all!” “It is, Yn! Everything is always about you when it’s not! You always play victim!” Your eye twitched. “Asshole, I know it’s not about me! You’re the one who keeps making me a bad guy!” “I’m only saying what’s true!” “No, you’re not!” Suddenly, you felt the tears go down with your voice growing sore. “I know you went through a lot as a kid but your trauma doesn’t excuse you to act such a bitch to me!” That pushed Scaramouche off the edge.

“Shut the fuck up, yn. This has nothing to do with my fucking mom you little shit. At least I’m doing something in my life instead of pursuing something that’ll get me nowhere in the future because no one believes in me!” Then, you two went quiet. Scaramouche realized what he said, he notices your tear stains on your cheeks. That all makes Scaramouche feel weak. His mouth felt dry as he talked, “Yn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“ “No, it’s okay.” You mustered out but started to burst out crying.

He hurries to your side and holds your shoulders. “Yn, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He says frantically but you simply shook your head as you cried. You forced away out of his hands and collapse onto your knees. “Please, leave me alone.” You say while covering your face. Scaramouche felt his chest hurt like he ran out of air. “Okay.” He watches you cry and cry before he steps out and leaves to his place.

Scaramouche left you there crying and you knew you asked him to but a part of you wanted him to ignore your request and sit down with you. You wanted him to hold you as he said sorry and you wanted to hold him as you apologized too. It’s too late for that now and you were all alone.

You sniffled as you reached for your phone with shaking hands. You opened messages and pressed on Scaramouche’s contact. You began to type but stopped. ‘What if he doesn’t want to see me? I hurt him.’ You swiped away and scrolled to someone else. You clicked on Aether’s contact and decided you’d call him in case he couldn’t text.

He picks up, “Hello?” “Aether,” You croaked as you wiped away your snot. “Yn?! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” “Are you home?” You dodged the question with another one. “Yes but are you okay?” Hearing that made you bawl even more. “Can you come over?” You asked him in broken words. “Yes. I’ll be right there.” “Okay.” You hang up and hug your knees.

You didn’t know how long it was until you felt your eyes grow tired. Once they were closed, your door opens revealing Aether. He puts away the spare key and hurried to your side. “Yn, what’s wrong?” You pull him into a hug and cried, “I messed up.” “W-What do you mean?” He asks, hugging you back. “Scara and I got into a fight and I said things and he said things and it’s all my fault.” Aether’s eyes widen since he noticed Scaramouche stand outside as he was making your way to your apartment. He noticed Scaramouche looked rather dull and hearing all this is the reason why. He shushed you, patting your back. “It’s not your fault, yn. Here, let’s sit.” He leads you to the couch. “Did you eat anything?” “N-No.” “I’ll make you something and you can tell me everything, okay?”

You nod and he smiles. “I’ll be right back.” He walks to your kitchen while you wait. When he comes back with a plate of snacks, he sits next to you and listens to your story. He stayed with you until you felt better and you appreciated that. You hope that this can all be resolved even if it takes a big step.

- BREAKUP ARC?!?!!,,!

- jk

- still intense 😜 (i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor 💀💀💀)

- team scaramouche or team yn 🤨🤨

- or none cause fuck them 🦅

🏷️ @sakiimeo @coquettemaiden @rmiyuki @kur44pika @theblueblub @jxxji0309 @dreamsofminnie @ohmyfinggod @redactedhimbo @kunisbeloved @akagism2 @sketcheeee @thefandomcrow @beriiov @thenightsflower @yukiipc @scaraapologist @scarletttcroww @samyayaya @crucnhice @monaypo1 @feiherp @myaaones @warcelia @hangecanweholdhands @yuminako @valiryyz @screechingxiaolover @tiddieshakeshownu @ilovechuuyaa @d4y-dr3am3r @dazaisfavgf @swivy123 @ganyusbrideee @sagegreenthinks @the-left-glove @wonderland-fan @kylexzz @kaoyamamegami @whycantscarabereal @rvoulte @eunchaeluvr @lxkeeeee @silvermah @baby-bread-in @yelleloww @magica-ren @itzblazekun

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ja3honey · 2 years

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Hurts Like Hell | Ot8 Ateez

「Synopsis」 : In the life of crime the truth can easily be hidden under a near perfect photoshopped lie...

「Word count」 : 571

-> Genre: Angst, Mafia Au, Heart breaking.

Paring: Ot8!Ateez x Reader [Poly Au]

[Warnings] : Name calling, Heart break, Mentions of Cheating, Yelling. !!Triggers!! this is a one way ticket to crying town.

Note: So Hi, Uh... Woops. I got a requests to have a mafia Au ot8 where they argued with the reader... But! This was not what the anon wanted (I'm Sorry!!) So I threw this in the trash for a while. But i got uh (sad times) hehe and finished writing this while listening to the song listed bellow. So I hope you all enjoy reading this none the less. And I promise to write a better version of this request soon. ♡♡

[REBLOG AND COMMENT FEEDBACK]

It was like time no longer mattered. Everything in your life meant nothing. You were just a useless human that didn’t deserve love. You were worth nothing. Hugging your pillow in your cold apartment as you lay in silence. Your tears stopped long ago, running out from the hours passing. your heart was shattered all over the cold wooden flood. Being smashed into a million pieces. The yelling… the screaming…. it played over and over in your head. Searching for what you did wrong. What you did do to deserve this pain. Anger took over which wasn’t the best idea. But when fight or flight comes into play. Fight was your first reaction.

‘STOP LYING TO US!’

‘WE SAW THE PHOTOS’

‘YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID’

Their anger-filled voices echoed in your head. They came storming in with photos in a file tightly in hand. San threw them on the table in front of you. And Yeosang was the first to speak up. But in this case yell.

‘I would never cheat!! How could you think that?!’

You tried to convince them but the photos that were clearly faked but they were the truth for them. You never met up with their enemy, let alone sleep with him. You tried to plead your case but none of them listened. They just yelled. Hongjoong even threw a glass off the table. The glass shattering on the floor, making you jump. It scared you. They scared you. Eight of them looking at you with so much hate. So much anger. You were terrified. You knew none of them would hurt you, nor touch you. But the sheer idea of them all hating you, burned your core in the worst way possible. Maybe they were capable of hurting you... But through their words...

‘Whore’

‘Brat’

‘Slut’

'Cheating Snake'

'liar'

The names they called you hurt the most. You stopped fighting after that. Just sitting on the chair while they took turns to share their anger aloud. You had no words. No emotion. You became a shell. You loved them so much. But they looked at you as if you were a stranger. As if you were the most disgusted person in the world. All the memories that you shared were gone in a second. As if your life was just one piece of grain in a pile of sand. Insignificant.

‘I’m sorry….’

Why did you say that? Why were you sorry? You didn’t do anything. But yet sorry was the only word your broken body could spill out. It was a mechanism. A safe word. But it was useless. It meant nothing to them. One by one they left having nothing else to say. Until it was just you and another. Jongho…

‘To think I had this whole speech…. a Whole plan… and then we get these photos put on our office table…’

He placed a piece of paper on the counter in front of you before placing a box on top of it. You looked over at it and your heart finally broke completely. You looked up at him, but before you could say anything. Before you could think of anything to keep him there, he spoke.

‘I’m going to miss you….’

He left…. they all left… and you were left, alone. Heartbroken. With a velvet box with engagement ring inside.

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new-berry · 2 months

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I’ve been looking at pictures having thoughts RPF thoughts. NSFW

Kieran and Charlotte Trippier. Isn’t she lovely? There is a lot of purple in this post.

Clearly- they should have a threesome. I mean you may think “that escalated quickly”. No I’ve thought this for a while.

John’s looks great that’s not flattering to Ruben. I feel you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Crying isn’t hot and shouldn’t be fodder for RPF. But this is a horny posting blog not be a better person blog.

They have either caught the perfect moment or photoshopped this to look exactly like a page from a catalogue.

Having said that, is catalogue model really something to aspire to?

Purple = gay especially this lovely lavender. (This is queer historical fact though.)

If Anthony Gordon gets selected for the England time just saying it’s going to happen. Warning you in advance.

#will this meeting never enddddddd

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tundrakatiebean · 10 months

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God I just noticed something that made me cry in Nimona. It’s below the cut because spoilers

When Nimona finally turns into the black beast there’s a (really cool and nicely done) textured wisp effect that comes off of her.

I’ve been following Nate Stevenson on here since 2011 or 2012 when I joined. A very common thing in his early self portraits or any depictions of self on this site was a hole in the middle of the torso with black wisps coming out of it. I don’t know if that was a conscious choice, an unconscious one, or whatever but it made me cry because I’m just so happy for Nate. The moment when those wisps fade away and Nimona gets a hug feels very tied to how lost Nate was and how seen and realized he feels now. It’s so much more powerful because we almost never saw this movie. It had to be saved too.

It’s just such a lovely thing to see someone so talented and wonderful end up happy and seen. I’m gonna be emotional about it for a long time.

Here's some of the self portraits I was thinking of specifically, there were others but I'm not finding them scanning the archive

This one is in this compilation post

#Katie is rambling 2k23 #Nimona #nimona movie #gingerhaze

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lilacthebooklover · 11 months

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Incorrect quotes

Ted: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate, or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Felix: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

Jerome: I was arrested for being too cool. Carla: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Monty: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Penny's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get her out...

Billy: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside Lily: Lily: Billy, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn... Billy: *Sips coffee from bowl*

Alice, to Madison: My life is in the hands of an idiot! Madison, motioning to herself and Ron: No no no no no, TWO idiots!

Buggs: *Gets down on one knee* Nugget: Oh my god, it’s finally happening. Buggs: *Falls over* Nugget: The poison is kicking in.

Dr Danner: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why. Janitor: Only if you also don't ask why Janitor: *Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls* Take your pick. Dr Danner: Janitor: Dr Danner: This one is fine

Jerome: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder? Buggs: Stop romanticizing the past.

Nugget: Nugget prevented a murder today. Kid: Really? How’d you do that? Nugget: Self control.

Principal: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity? Applegate: *turning to Cindy* How tall are you?

Penny: Carla, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean? Carla: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later Penny: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Monty.

Ozzy: Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so...

Buggs: You seem familiar, have I threatened you before?

Cindy: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them

Margaret: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal'. You don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.

Hall Monitor: I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

Monty: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Jerome: You need to stop.

Ozzy: This is such a bad idea. Madison: Then why are you coming along? Ozzy: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

Cindy: Looking left cause you don’t treat me right Buggs: Looking right because you left Jerome: Looking up cause you let me down Monty: Looking down cause you messed up Applegate: What is wrong with you

Ozzy: What’s something you guys are better than Felix at? Carla: Mario Kart. Madison: Yeah, video games. Ted: Emotional vulnerability :)

Carla: I think Felix was right. Ozzy: I'm surprised he hasn't marched in here to say 'I told you so.' Ted: He wouldn't do that! Felix: You're right, Teddy. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that. Felix: *turns around, the shirt he's wearing says 'Felix Told You So' on the back*

Male Principal: Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

Kid: So what do you do? Monty: I work in genetic research, and I'm currently trying to eliminate all Cancers. Kid: Wow, impressive. Monty: Then I'll move on to Leos.

Lily: Can I be frank with you guys? Kid: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help. Nugget: Can Nugget still be Nugget? Billy: Shh, let Frank speak.

I found an incorrect quote generator and had a blast ahdkjfh

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theogony · 6 months

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the case study into sakusa kiyoomi's facial structure

written for the haikyuu big bang 2023 (@hqbb) ! Been wanting to write Sakuatsu for forever now and finally gave me the impetus to start writing :3 check out the beautiful companion art by twilightdays on twitter here!

Atsumu grins, foxlike and sharp, before turning to Osamu.

“If I manage to get a smile out of Sakusa Kiyoomi within 3 months, you’ll agree I’m the funnier twin and give me an entire 2 weeks’ free supply of your onigiri.”

There are very few things Atsumu likes to almost surely bet on - examples being volleyball, Bokuto’s ability to break the sound barrier when calling Akaashi, and Osamu’s ability to be an annoying, stuck-up ass.

Osamu hums, before holding out his hand with mock solemnity.

“A week and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The newest addition to the list? Sakusa Kiyoomi’s unflinching jawline.

–no one's convinced that Sakusa Kiyoomi can smile, least of all Atsumu (which is a downright shame considering the fact his face could be chiselled out of pure marble) - but by god if Atsumu is a quitter; especially when his drunken pride and Osamu's onigiris are on the line.

Alternatively, the 5 times in which Atsumu tries to make Sakusa smile, and the one time he does (ft. errant volleyballs, bad cooking, drunken decisions, and one nosy Olympic team)

read the rest on AO3! (formatted better there) / read below the cut!

It’s close to 1 in the morning when his phone buzzes, and Atsumu is nowhere near sober enough to comprehend the texts appearing on his screen.

He squints, blearily, trying to decipher through giant blobs of colour who exactly the notification is from, almost regretting the drinking contest he went up (and won!) against Aran. Next to him, Suna isn’t doing much better, for once phone left unguarded on the tabletop where he’s slumped. Aran and Kita are off in some corner, doing god knows what, and the only one remotely sober is Osamu, their designated driver, still picking at the leftover onigiri. There’s a particular glint in his eye that Atsumu knows means that he’s busy doing some particular chef analysis with the ingredients and god knows what else, so he resigns himself to swiping at the messages.

Omi-Omi: Remember we’re both practising our sets tomorrow

Do not be late.

Atsumu rereads the message twice, before throwing his phone (as gently as he can while drunk) with a loud groan.

“Fuck Sakusa Kiyoomi. Honestly”

Osamu turns his head around at the loud proclamation, before wordlessly joining Atsumu on the table next to him, retrieving Atsumu’s phone along the way. Instead of handing it to Atsumu like a sane person, he whacks his shoulder with it - ignoring his cry of pain - prompting Atsumu to monologue on “Stupid, Stupid Sakusa Kiyoomi and his stupid, stupid rules and stupid, stupid face.”

Osamu seems content to let him continue rambling, but with an unexpected amount of effort, Suna props himself up on the table, fully facing Atsumu.

“You’re kind of obsessed with Sakusa, aren’t you?”

Atsumu sputters.

His new fixation is one born of superiority. Not in volleyball - it doesn’t take a genius to notice Sakusa Kiyoomi’s sharp instincts and sheer skill - but in charm. Like, let alone having suaveness - hell, Sakusa’s Kiyoomi’s face is probably stuck in a perpetual line of disgruntle and disappointment - which occasionally curves up at a specific angle between 5 and 8 degrees when he looks down upon you, mocking.

And if Atsumu perhaps thinks it’s a shame, considering his face, he isn’t drunk enough to admit that - even to himself.

“Komori San did tell me Sakusa’s an emotional guy though”, Kita hums vaguely enough, having seemingly emerged from the deepest corners of the bar to provide sage wisdom on the perpetual disposition of Kiyoomi. Suna vigorously nods, before attempting to trawl his endless gallery for an almost certainly photoshopped image of Sakusa smiling.

“Omi cannot smile. It’s like. Statistically impossible.”

Even imagining it sends a flush throughout his body. In horror. Of course.

“You know what I think?” Osamu finally drawls, resting his chin upon his palm with a grin, and Atsumu suddenly feels a flicker of fear. “Tsum-Tsum here”, he helpfully adds, pinching his cheeks with a saccharine grin, “simply isn’t funny enough for Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

How. Dare. He.

Atsumu’s face blooms scarlet. As if he could never be enough for that stuck-up prick. Sakusa Kiyoomi should feel lucky that he even spends time with him! A man who doesn’t know how to handle social interaction and function without the help of a 5-metre radius from everyone should feel honoured Atsumu even takes pity to keep trying!

"How dare ya say I'm not funny enough for Sakusa Kiyoomi!"

Osamu takes one look at the petulant expression on his face and starts laughing even harder, and Atsumu suddenly decides that no, perhaps it isn't too late to repent for the fact he never ate him in his mother's womb.

Before another full brawl can break out between the two of them, Aran holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

“We could always settle it using a wager.”

Atsumu grins, foxlike and sharp, before turning to Osamu.

“If I manage to get a smile out of Sakusa Kiyoomi within 3 months, you’ll agree I’m the funnier twin and give me an entire 2 weeks’ free supply of your onigiri.”

Osamu hums, before holding out his hand with mock solemnity.

“A week and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The newest addition to the list? Sakusa Kiyoomi’s unflinching jawline.

There are 10 minutes left into the first game of the season in Tokyo, in a gym with over 3000 fans when Atsumu Miya lines up one of the last serves of the game. Though the distant cheering of the crowd is inspiring to some of the players - he knows Bokuto thrives off it, hell, in any other situation he would too - but this close to a victory - close enough he can nearly sink his teeth in - he can’t afford any slip-ups - any uncontrolled variables. The weight of the ball rests heavy and fits perfectly in the groove of his palm - but he doesn’t let the familiarity of the scene fool him into forgetting that playing against the Adlers is different from when it’s just practice matches.

And though it may frustrate him, well. If there’s one thing life has taught him through a myriad of scraped elbows and bruised dreams, it’s how to channel that spark of anger.

Atsumu smiles, fox-like and vicious as he hits a perfect serve toss - one slightly low, but still powerful enough to reach a fellow teammate, the resounding thwack memory at his point - comfortable enough to elicit a familiar welling up of nostalgia and competition. His eyes dart across the court, analysing the trajectory of the ball as it sails cleanly across the set (perfect path, his inner voice internally trills) - until the ball is smacked back against an impenetrable block of players, and he lands back on his feet, back in high-school again and staring at the faces of the triumphant team in front of him.

Damn it. This isn’t working.

The frustration he’s feeling is clear in the eyes of his other teammates - he can see it reflected across Ninja Shoyou’s face - can see it in the way Adriah’s grin strains a little at the edges - the way Oliver’s hands tighten imperceptibly.

But it’s nothing compared to the analytical grin Sakusa sports - eyes narrowed and face scowling, as though trying to figure out the key to cracking the game open.

And then his gaze shifts - and there’s a flicker of something colder underneath, gone after an instant, and it hits Atsumu like a bolt of lightning.

It makes him grin - makes him want to try something impulsive.

“Omi-kun”, he continues, deliberately pitching his voice low so that the others can’t hear. “Trust me, yeah?”

In his peripheral vision, he sees Sakusa give Atsumu a long look, before dropping his hands to his sides.

It’s all the cue he needs for him to recklessly set the ball high up into the air. His body moves into a long-remembered dance, fluid and fast as he steps into motion, habit honed into instinct at this point. One step, two, three—he loses count and jumps, calloused hand slamming into the sweat-sticky leather of the volleyball. The ball sails upwards - a dazzling comet to the rest of the court and a thinly veiled demand.

Well? Hit it.

There’s no doubt that Sakusa Kiyoomi is a brilliant player - there have been enough interviews - reports and articles on his “potential” and “style”.

But it’s one thing to read about it - and one thing to see his eyes twitch as he analyses the path of the ball in a way that is so perfectly like him - see his body flex as he responds to the arc of the ball, sending it perfectly across the court - the sharp zing through the air lost to the quick frenzy of players rearranging themselves to the unpredictable spin that he’s known for. Hirugami goes up too, but it’s a split second too late - and the thud of the ball as it hits the court is lost to the applause.

Though he can feel the confused exclamations from Hinata and feel more than hear Bokuto loudly screeching in his ear, Atsumu doesn’t pause to think before carefully bumping a jersey-clad shoulder against Sakusa’s briefly.

“Omi-kun”, he lightly drawls - giddy on adrenaline and excitement, inhibitions lowered now that one of his reckless decisions has already paid off. “No celebration?”

Sakusa sharply cuts his gaze away as he makes a soft noise under his breath - though not fast enough to completely hide the smirk he’s sporting - nor hide the familiar spark in his eyes.

“Your set was too far left.”

Fingers twitching, almost hesitant to reach out, Sakusa walks off to address the Adlers.

Demanding bastard, he thinks, but he’s still wearing a foxy grin as he trots behind him, maintaining a careful distance as they go.

He tries not to think about the half-hidden smirk on his face - and the near brush of their fingertips. He dimly wonders if it’d feel like electricity - like the same thrum of lightning whenever he sets a volleyball into motion - like fingers fluttering an instant before locking together for impact.

The sun has barely risen by the time the rest of the Jackals are up on their bus.

This, however, has done nothing except possibly increase the amount of vigour in Bokuto's voice as he sings another slurring edition of the latest hit on the radio. Even though Atsumu's 90% sure this counts in some way as a violation of the Geneva Conventions with the way it pierces through his skull, he's frankly not awake enough to comprehend much. He could bother Hinata into doing something, but unfortunately, said Hinata is currently miming a conductor with such zeal that Atsumu perhaps wonders if there's any lost love between Shoyou and music.

Meian ends up coming to their rescue, turning around and glaring at them with such wither and vitriol that it could rival Omi. Bokuto eventually shuffles back into his seat near Shoyou, as the bus quiets back down to a volume reminiscent of a traffic jam in the suburbs.

However, as an unceasing panic starts to set in suddenly, Atsumu wryly ponders that perhaps Bokuto’s one-man band was the only thing loud enough to drown out the large thumping of his heart as he sits next to Sakusa Kiyoomi.

At rest, like this, the sharp angles of his face smoothen out, light playing over his features with a soft, golden glow - an unintentional side effect from his constant attempts to find a comfortable sleeping position (though judging from the angle chosen, Atsumu can almost foresee the inevitable funk Kiyoomi’s going to be in due to an excess of kinks in his neck.)

The bus rolls over a peaceful bump, and as though the universe is agreeing with Atsumu’s astute deduction, shifts Kiyoomi slightly, bobbing his still immaculate curls. Atsumu hums, turning the other way before freezing as he feels the bus jolt again - this time sending an irritated Omi straight into the space between the seat-

-And Atsumu’s shoulder.

This close to him, Atsumu can feel the steady rhythm of Sakusa's breath - probably intensely regulated from all the yoga he does, because of course he does yoga - and can see the delicate curve of each of his eyelids, hooded and alluring. His moles are close enough for Atsumu to trace - and he has the irrational thought to try to connect them - like glittering stars in a night sky.

As a particularly harsh sun ray strikes the window, Kiyoomi tsks, shying away like a vampire, Atsumu muses, before his heart rate kicks up another notch, and he stills, unmoving - because Sakusa Kiyoomi is now unconsciously nuzzling himself into the crook of Atsumu’s neck.

His skin is impossibly soft, and his mouth twitches - curving imperceptibly - a facsimile of a smile. Studying him like this, unguarded and awash in the rosy sunlight, Atsumu can't help but feel faint at the sight of a completely unguarded Sakusa Kiyoomi - at the sight of him so peaceful.

So……..soft.

So….human.

He’s snapped back into reality by Bokuto's deep lungful of air, indicating another round of the song, and Adrian practically diving across the aisle to tackle him down. Despite his best attempts at stifling his surprise, he shifts imperceptibly - but even that much is enough to send Sakusa skittering back like a cat, eyes blown wide.

The two of them spend the rest of the bus ride in silence, content to let Hinata's chatter fill the space in between - and if Atsumu still steals glances at Sakusa back, it's only to see if Sakusa is planning to turn around and smile.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

The bar is vaguely familiar to Atsumu the same way everything’s vaguely familiar when you’re seeing swirls in mid-air, and internally he thanks himself for not breaking out into a brawl with Osamu the last time he was here. The next thing he thinks to himself is about the stupid bet and the stupid, stupid man who’s been taking up nearly all of his waking hours with every waking syllable that comes out of his stupid mouth. For analysis.

Or something.

Atsumu would have made more of an effort to remember, but it’s not often that Meian gives them free rein to get as drunk as they like - a victory treat to celebrate another match won against the Adlers before they’re forced up at ungodly hours of the morning for their regular drills.

(After an entire day of recovery, of course, from the inevitable hangover everyone would be nursing. Meian may be harsh, but he’s not an absolute monster.)

His head is spinning, and he feels lighter than a feather, and Atsumu knows without a certainty he is not drunk - rather, almost certainly hammered. Not that it matters, because he still makes his way to the bar to get more drinks because why the fuck not, since he’s already past the point to care.

It’s only when he’s halfway across the room, and he’s close enough to recognise Hinata and Kageyama furiously making out in the corner, that it dawns on him that the bar is the other way, and he sharply veers away from the sight. Before he can make it any further, he finds himself collapsing into the nearest barstool and leaning close to the nearest person he can see-

“What. Are. You. Doing.”

Atsumu distinctly recalls his previous prayer and then also dimly remembers the fact that the universe, in general, is a fucking joke.

Oh, he faintly thinks, as he turns around to get a front-row view of Sakusa’s steely glare. Karma is a bitch.

But hell, does intoxication suit Sakusa Kiyoomi - a slight sway in his hips as he turns to face him, moving to some melody that only he can hear, one that he’d very, very much like the lyrics for. His usually sharp gaze is a little unfocused as it wanders over the room, his over-bright, red-rimmed eyes making him look tired and ready for bed. Or getting into bed with someone, he thinks, ignoring the unfamiliar twang of indignation and anger, only if Sakusa Kiyoomi was the guy to get into one-night stands.

Atsumu gives himself a little shake, telling himself not to stare. Of course, he’s a pretty drunk.

He stares anyway.

How can he not, when every single thing about him is just the right side of dishevelled – his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed in that lovely end-of-the-night sort of way that makes him want to pull him closer and run his fingers through it. The still perfect curls that now curl loosely around Sakusa’s neck, so at odds with his put-together appearance on the court, beg to be pulled around his fingers, Atsumu not letting go until he’s rumpled and breathless, and the only thing that is on the both of their minds are each other. He wanders vaguely forward, thinking of doing just that, and his gaze suddenly sharpens and snaps to him.

“Miya?” he says sharply, as though glimpsing Atsumu for the first time, and well. Atsumu doesn't cower, but he does take a step back. Slowly, his dark eyes shift up and down his body (checking you out a delicious voice whispers in Atsumu’s brain) and all of a sudden, his prickly shield slips, and he visibly slackens.

"I've found you." He says, in what he thinks is a whisper.

It is not - yet the breathy lilt of his voice makes it sound like an invitation.

Atsumu is certain this is a ploy to somehow send him to an early grave - because there's no other explanation for why Sakusa Kiyoomi is currently saying what he's saying- and because there's no other explanation for the way his heart painfully stutters a beat when he hears those exact words.

You're drunk, his brain ridiculous supplies back.

"I'm very much not drunk, thank you very much. I'm completely undrunk." Kiyoomi glares back as he puffs up like an adorable cat, and Atsumu faintly thinks he's never been more glad that Sakusa is the definition of a liquor snob - only drinking the finest (and strongest) wines.

"Right."

The frown between Kiyoomi's brow deepens, and oh, he's fucking grinning now, the urge to laugh bubbling up in his chest as Omi continues scowling like the contrarian he is.

"I'm serious! I can walk perfectly straight. "

The fond feeling in his chest only grows as he watches Sakusa attempt to walk away - before swaying and falling back into Atsumu's arm, content to nuzzle into his chest. Something pleasantly possessive aches along his bones at the thought that he is the only one who gets to see him like this – only him and not Hinata or Bokuto, who gets to see him sleepy and soft at the end of the day, whispering secrets and leaning close - eyes and words crystal clear and bright despite the low hum and mundanity that comes with sitting in a cheap dive bar.

“Stop that. Don’t smile at me. I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing?”

“You’re trying to… seduce me.”

Atsumu blinks.

Did he mishear that? Freudian slip? Can you Freudian slip with your hearing when you're drunk? Even so, he can’t help but frown a little. In all the years Atsumu has known Sakusa Kiyoomi, and further in all the years he’s heard from Suna and Komori - this evening’s behaviour is extremely atypical for him - he’s almost never seen Kiyoomi this drunk, let alone expect him to go search for him in such a state.

Which is ridiculous. Because Sakusa Kiyoomi is aloof. Mysterious. Not someone like Atsumu, who feels too much and wants too much, half ready to carve his heart out of his chest if Kiyoomi would direct a smile at him.

Atsumu blinks again.

“Does that happen a lot?” he asks, in what he hopes is a tone that doesn’t scream Hey, Maybe in another world where I was a bit drunker, and you were just a random stranger, and we had no emotional baggage I’d be kissing you senseless, but here we are, and I’m totally not jealous, but also I may be a bit jealous, but it’s chill and totally fine.

His life is a train wreck.

Sakusa seems to ponder the question, before lolling his head onto Atsumu’s shoulder with frightening ease.

“Perhaps. About 5 times in this room, though none of them were good enough to be partners. There’s a difference between partners and partners, of course.”

“Really?” He says, only slightly shocked at the fact that Kiyoomi’s been propositioned 5 times today alone. But damn, if that doesn’t hurt Astumu’s ego. He’s not even locked eyes with anyone or checked out someone today (present company excluded, of course). “What sort of-”

Sakusa ploughs on as though he hasn’t heard him, even as his voice slowly becomes barely discernible under the cottony feeling in Atsumu’s mouth as his eyes roved over Kiyoomi’s curls and the chaotic din of the bar around them.

“The next song, dance with me.”

Atsumu stopped short. “What?”

"Dance with me," he repeated, clumsily pushing himself off from Atsumu's hand that he forgot was lightly coiled around his extremely nice to-hold bicep. "The next song, whatever it is."

"If you wanted to get rid of me, you could have just said-"

"No!" Kiyoomi puts his hands on his shoulders, and for a second Atsumu fears that he might lose his balance - an absurd image that almost makes him laugh. "The song. The next. Let's dance," Sakusa mumbles, eyes glistening and breathing heavy, but gaze determined. It's silly, really, but there's something adorable in the way he gazes at Atsumu with the seriousness of a marriage proposal, and laughter bubbles up in his chest. It's foreign – this urge to tip his head back and let himself laugh in front of Sakusa Kiyoomi - but he just lets it out, conflicted by how easy it is - how familiar all of it feels.

But God, it feels wonderful, this addictive cocktail of amusement and care that Atsumu wouldn’t have any other way.

“Alright”, Atsumu finally says fondly, as he feels the beat of the next song start up, and he gently brings Kiyoomi to the edge of the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

The song that plays in the background is quiet and smooth, a woman crooning out to her lover, accompanied only by a guitar. Even then, Sakusa moves limply, eyes focused downwards as Atsumu lets him lead through a decently complicated half-step that seems to fit this song exactly despite their stiffness. As the song slowly began swelling towards the inevitable climax, Atsumu let his eyes rove over Sakusa Kiyoomi’s body - in the dip of his shoulders, in the half crook of his grin, in the glimmer yet distracted allure of his eyes as he looked towards their feet, which had stopped moving a long time back.

“Something interesting down there?”

Kiyoomi looks back up, eyes unfocused and dazed, and Atsumu suddenly realises he’s close enough to smell the faint, barely perceptible smell of alcohol on his breath.

Close enough to see the chapped corners of his mouth.

Close enough to kiss, he startlingly thinks as he sees Kiyoomi move forward.

Before Atsumu can think too hard about it, he nestles his head into the crook between his shoulder and neck and slips his hands down from his hips to his waist, his quiet crooning more of a vibration into his neck than an actual audible sound.

“Atsumu?” Kiyoomi finally murmurs, the name almost an inarticulate sound in his alcoholic muttering.

"Mh?"

“You know the thing about partners?”

Atsumu nods, half distracted, distantly remembering the drunken ramblings.

"You're going to tell me which one I am?" He half-jokingly asks, almost expecting the answer to be something flippant.

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, before indulging him anyway, leaning close to his ear, his next few words barely above a whisper.

"You're the best kind."

He says it so carelessly - like it isn’t the most remarkable thing in the world. Like it’s just a fact of life, known and accepted and unchanging. The sky is blue, the earth is round, and he makes him ridiculously happy just because he's the "best" kind. Atsumu presses his lips together, embarrassed by the sudden rush of emotion in his chest.

"I-"

Whatever he's about to say next is drowned out by the large clinking of glass in the background, and all of a sudden the moment breaks - the both of them simultaneously moving apart. Kiyoomi still smirks at Atsumu, as though he knows precisely what he's doing to him.

Even when intoxicated, he still looks at him with a challenge in his eyes - still looks at him with a look that tells him that damned fool still wants to win.

Atsumu’s not sure that he'd be entirely averse to losing at this point.

But for God's sake, not tonight. Not when Atsumu still hasn't managed to crack a full smile on Sakusa's face.

"Drinks!" It's not quite the smooth recovery he hoped for, but Sakusa doesn't say a word, only tilting his head to the side as Atsumu makes his escape.

As he perches himself onto a rickety barstool, the song shifts into something more upbeat- but the moment he shared with Sakusa Kiyoomi out of all people still replays in his mind - the slight tickle of his breath as it ghosted over his ears, the firm but gentle grip of his palm on Atsumu’s hips. A strange combination of feeling like he can’t quite catch his breath and somehow like he also just took the deepest, cleanest, fullest breath of his life comes over him, and he furrows his brows at the surprising pleasantness of it all.

He suddenly wishes Sakusa was here, not that he’d be much help in the current situation. He’s probably trying to fantasise in peace about how victoriously he’d be able to crow his immunity to any hangovers and headaches over the rest of them (over Atsumu only, he reflects in hindsight). Sakusa’s a bit ridiculous like that. His drunken brain supplies ridiculously beautiful, and Atsumu suddenly remembers why exactly he’s drinking again.

To forget about stupid Sakusa Kiyoomi and his stupid theoretical smile and-

-and the bartender suddenly slams 3 shots on the countertop in front of him, moving forward to the next counter. Atsumu says a quick prayer for good health and good times before downing it all in one go, and he turns around to get up and chase the bartender back - only to bump into the man at the barstool over.

"Sorry!"

The other man grins at him, shirt half unruffled, and platinum dyed sticking out messily in a charming, roguish way.

"I'm sure a handsome stranger like you can make it up to me by buying a round for the both of us."

Sure, Atsumu may have been half joking when getting offended when Sakusa Kiyoomi had been propositioned 5 times, if only for the fact that deep - very deep down, he knows that number is slightly improbable even for someone as great as him. But at the same time, that doesn’t necessarily mean Atsumu has never been flirted with - hell, it doesn’t mean Atsumu Miya is blind enough to miss the hungry way the stranger's eyes skim over his body.

Had it been any other night, Atsumu would have probably made this a night to remember for the both of them - a night spent with a quick drink and an even quicker tussle in slick and sweat at some rundown hotel. But for some reason today, an extremely familiar man with black hair and a smile for some reason he’s sure would light up the entire room creeps into his mind.

The clink of glass on the countertop breaks his reverie, and he dimly realises he’s been staring at the man with a dopey grin - a fact which the man seems to revel in, preening under the dim lights as he leans closer - far too close for someone with innocent intentions.

“Hope you don’t mind. I ordered one for us to share. It’d be awfully presumptuous of me if I didn’t bother to greet the most sinful man I’ve met tonight.”

Even though the sensible voice in his head currently blares about 3 different warning bells, Atsumu doesn’t move away - paralysed by the knowing look in his grin so exactly familiar to the one Kiyoomi was just wearing-

“Miya?”

The sensible voice in his head goes very quiet.

Atsumu turns around on the barstool, ignoring the hesitant voice asking whether he's already spoken for.

"Ah, Omi-kun, wait-"

Sakusa opens his mouth, but then shuts it, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"I'll leave you to your date. My apologies for interrupting."

Without even a second thought, Atsumu scrambles up, following Sakusa into the freezing air.

"Omi, it's just a stranger-"

Sakusa turns around, moonlight silhouetting him like a vengeful angel as he glares at Atsumu, apparent indifference to Atsumu's matters forgotten.

"Do not call me that. And don't take me for an idiot. "

For a brief second, Atsumu considers reaching out to Kiyoomi and his hand twitches - a move that doesn't seem to go unnoticed, given the brief flash of…sadness? that flits across his features.

In the end, none of them moves - and Sakusa finally turns, inky curls glistening in the moonlight as he walks away, leaving Atsumu to sober alone in front of the bar.

And it’s just…… it’s so damned unfair- the way Kiyoomi looks so breathlessly stunning even leaving like this - and Atsumu suddenly feels a stabbing ache go through him at how badly he wants to run back and say sorry for something not even entirely his fault.

The best kind of partner, huh?

How could he say such things when Atsumu hasn't even seen him smile even once?

When Atsumu first looks into his mini fridge after promptly dragging himself through another tortuous evening drill session with Meian, Atsumu swears he can hear his brother shout in his head at the dismal state of it. Normally, Atsumu would simply order something - rather than run all the way to experiment with ingredients from a completely new store - but he supposes that it's about time that he figures out how exactly Osamu just throws things in a pot and somehow produces the next culinary masterpiece.

Midway through swiping through Japanese recipes, Atsumu sees an ad for a surprisingly appetising-looking sauce and impulsively decides that perhaps it’s time to try something new - and so he scours the internet for easy-to-make dishes and quickly swipes to a recipe for some soup he’s never seen before.

Pho, the cheerful grandma says as she shows off her little stove top that looks nothing like Osamu’s meticulously arranged shelves - a fact that despite everything sends a small thrill through him. Osamu’s always been the showier one with food - cooked for precision, cooked to experiment and discover.

Atsumu’s simply happy cooking for a sense of comfort - one this recipe seems to promise in spades.

As he navigates the slightly off-beaten crossings, Atsumu muses about the strangeness of the situation - even he can admit Osamu is the real culinary twin - and the only other place he's ever tried to cook for himself is at their childhood home in Miyagi, a surprise downpour always chilling the tatami floor - which always made the food seem even more fresh, even more warm. Though in a way, it's not that much of a surprise - on the court, alongside Hinata's sunny disposition, Bokuto's cheer, and even Sakusa's frown he's found himself a new home amongst the rest of them - maybe not one that is perfect, but one that is inexplicably perfect for him.

After stepping into the chilly wonderland of supermarket air conditioning with the sound of a tinkling bell, Atsumu finds that all things considered, grocery shopping isn't too bad. Though it takes him a few unnecessary turns around all the aisles to locate all the produce he came here to buy (and a few other extra sweets because really, who knew they had such a varied selection of mochi?) Atsumu can triumphantly tick almost everything off his list - except a packet of glass noodles, which he thinks is right in the aisle in front of him.

And there he sees it - a holy beacon nestled in between two other irrelevant packets of other pasta brands. He's lucky he came when he did - it seems to be the last one in the entire store, and it seems to beckon to Atsumu only till it’s cruelly snatched out of the aisle, to be rescued and imminently kidnapped and held for an indefinite ransom in some random thief's basket.

Luckily, Atsumu has been training for the past few years for this - being a jackal and more importantly, a twin of Miya Osamu meant always fighting for the best food, and so Atsumu reaches out to grab the other edge of the packet with enough dominance that he’s certain is bound to scare the other person away. He doesn’t bother tugging on the packet more than once - he sagely recalls that if done one too many times, your hidden desperation will reveal, which can become a tool that your enemy can use against you.

“Miya?”

Atsumu feels a faint sense of déjà vu as he hurriedly drops the edge of the packet, jaw slackening in surprise.

While being Osamu's twin may have prepared him for a lot of things, it unfortunately did not prepare him to combat people who could stun Atsumu with a single glance.

Then again, nothing really could prepare him for the immense self-rationalisation and gymnastics he'd have to go through against Sakusa Kiyoomi every single time.

Even dressed down and bathed in the most harsh of fluorescent lights, Sakusa still manages to maintain flawless posture and form. More importantly, Atsumu realises upon looking down into his shopping cart, that he's somehow managed to stack everything up in neat little rows and ensure it doesn't spill outside his basket. Atsumu is sure that if Osamu was here, he would weep at the forgotten opportunity to make Omi a top aisle organiser and perpetual employee of the month, and instinctively, he shies his basket away.

"Pho?"

"You’ve made it before?"

Sakusa furrows his brows harder, as though regretting the inevitable headache that appears whenever he's in Atsumu's vicinity.

"If you're making Pho, why are you buying sugar? And so little garlic…."

Scandalised, Atsumu snatches his basket back. Even if Sakusa hypothetically was right in the sense that he hadn't bothered to properly look at the exact quantities of ingredients, he did at least bother to call Osamu to let him know about his culinary foray! Or at least leave him a voice note after he didn’t pick up, most likely still busy with his restaurant!

As though he can hear his inner monologue, Sakusa arches a single eyebrow at him, and Atsumu slumps over defeated.

Fuck his stupid face.

As though deciding that a socially acceptable amount of time has passed, the irritation on his face grows, and he picks up the basket, heading to the counter.

“Omi-kun, don’t you know I need the glass noodles? ”

To his credit, Sakusa stops, though his eyebrow twitches.

“There are plenty of other recipes out there which are more traditional.”

“Yes, but the recipe calls for it as well, so it needs to be a staple of mine, y'know! And besides-” Atsumu scrambles, eyes catching on the nearby bottles of Soju and Sake cheerfully advertised, lining the aisles directly opposite to them.

“If you want, you could come over and help me cook! We’d make a drinking thing out of it- have some food and wine-” And oh, Atsumu is rambling, so he sends himself a mental note to shut up and give Sakusa his most winning smile.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem as impressed as he hoped. And yet, it still sets Atsumu’s heart thrumming.

“It’s 10 pm, Miya.”

Atsumu blinks, tossing his head back - if only to hide the darkening blush on his cheeks at the typical connotations that come with inviting someone to their house this late at night.

“How badly do you want this?” Sakusa asks, eyeing the half-hefted bag of groceries, and Fuck, Atsumu thinks.

That’s certainly something to think about later. Not now, in the middle of two aisles in their local grocery store. Definitely not now, under the inscrutable gaze of Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“..... Fine. Under one condition.”

Atsumu’s already prepared to say yes, but he can’t help but try pushing a bit further.

“I don’t know, depends on the deal….”

Sakusa holds his gaze impassively, though his eyebrow twitches again in what Atsumu realises is covert exasperation.

“Just give me the rest of it. When you're done. ”

Atsumu would be lying if he said he'd know what to do with it anyway - and with jubilance, he picks up Sakusa's basket alongside his and begins marching down towards the checkout.

“Miya, wait-��

Instinctively, Atsumu switches both the baskets to one hand, the song and dance familiar from his childhood trips with Osamu, fingers gently stretching to hold the ones behind-

-Oh.

Atsumu never thought of his hands as pretty - covered in calloused, fingers bruised asymmetrically - immensely useful but mechanical joints with seamless cogs. Holding Sakusa’s fingers, however, feels like holding paper lanterns - like cradling a gentle craft Atsumu can break in a minute.

It feels like holding perfection - and Atsumu never wants to let go.

Belatedly, Atsumu realises that it's Sakusa Kiyoomi - Sakusa touch-averse-no-sweaty-hands-will-bleach-his-eyes-out-after-this Kiyoomi whom he's holding hands with, and he nearly drops his neatly fitted palm - already running through millions of excuses to quell the dull ache that he’s sure will remain imprinted - a phantom feeling he’ll continue chasing for the rest of his life.

But then he feels the curling of fingers - soft, but firm - cold ivory contrasting with the warmth of the flush that he can feel prickling just under the marble skin. Atsumu’s gut twists with a hunger he can’t name - a feeling of fullness, yet desperate yearning.

“... Just hurry and buy the groceries, Miya.”

And if none of them says another word about the matching blushes on both of their cheeks, then. Well. That's neither here nor there.

“You can take those onions, and make X's in the bottom with a knife, and drop them into that pan.”

"In with the soup?"

"No. Shoot." He kneels and retrieves a pot from one of the lower cupboards. "In here. They need to boil for a minute, and then you take them out."

Atsumu does as Sakusa says, filling the pan with water and turning on the flame. He finds a knife and scores the onions, and under his watchful eye carefully measures the fish sauce and cuts the lime wedges, before throwing them into the broth. He searches in a cupboard for a stainless-steel spice caddy and throws in a star anise and a pinch of salt, before letting the contents come to a simmer. On his other side, Sakusa prods the pieces of meat with a wooden spoon, and Atsumu is free to let his eyes wander over Sakusa’s frame and marvel at how comfortable he looks cooking like this, humming a song under his breath, fitting into the small kitchen space so seamlessly - as a familiar piece slotted into place.

“I’d rather you not burn my kitchen down at midnight. Don't want the neighbours to think that this is what I do with all the men I invite over.” Atsumu finally says, arms lazily inching a breadth away from Kiyoomi’s. It’s easier to cover vulnerability with banter they’re both familiar with, and his body involuntarily relaxes as he sees familiar irritation flash across his face, breaking whatever trance he is in.

“Fuck you, Miya. Or would you rather I leave?”

Atsumu doesn’t bother answering - doesn’t bother calling out the bluff behind his words. It’s easier than breaking this illusion than admitting that Atsumu could have ordered out and not made a makeshift space in his life that Kiyoomi could have fit into, a small bubble of quiet amongst the loud. Easier than confronting the fact that Sakusa could have said no from the start - could have hidden closed himself from Atsumu and never shown him this side of him - from the highlighter-coloured jersey to the small reading glasses currently perched on his nose - could have hidden the way he relaxes around Atsumu in a way no one else seems to see.

“I think I need to add more liquid," Sakusa finally decides, pouring water from a tea kettle into the pan, suddenly causing the glasses he’d forgotten to take off to steam.

"I can't see."

Sakusa unconsciously steps away so that he stands a bit closer to Atsumu - the rest of the apartment is silent apart from the sounds of the stove, the kind of quietness that comes only when it’s nearly midnight and everyone else with their sanity intact is sleeping. Even as he holds up his hands, messy from cooking, coated with flour and thin grease and prepares to remove the glasses, Atsumu reaches over him carefully - fingers pressed to his bare arms, cool despite the warmth of the kitchen, a whisper of Let me ghosting over his lips as he pulls him closer to pull off the fog stained glasses before his breath catches in his throat, and he’s faced with eyes wide and open and brilliant and bright and startling, staring straight at him - and instinctively he knows, from the storm raging in his chest and the drum of his fingertips on pale skin that something’s changed.

The sharp whistle of a pressure cooker breaks the silence between them and startled by the sharp noise, Sakusa looks away wildly, leaving the glasses askew before rushing to fix the fish sauce and ensuring the entire pot noodles haven’t been charred.

Even as moonlight slants over the both of them, reminding Atsumu of the entire absurdity of the situation - it’s 1 am, and here he is making pho with Sakusa Kiyoomi out of all people - he can feel the palpable tension between the two of them simmer into something calm. Inexplicably, Sakusa starts humming again, a half smile curving his lips and starts doling out the steaming hot bowls of soup. It’s not perfect - the meat’s charred in some places, the noodles too stiff - but Atsumu savours the soup like a starving man, the broth filling him up with warmth. The light above them flickers, and perhaps because it’s midnight - perhaps because Sakusa’s trying to be soft, in his own way - he begins to talk - begins telling him a story about Motoya trying to impress Suna by trying to learn how to bake. The shadows on his face soften the harsh features - and for a change, Atsumu sits and listens - occasionally interjecting with short anecdotes. In one moment - when the shadows on his face shift with apparent disbelief, Atsumu thinks he sees the tiniest trace of a smile, open and honest, playing on the edges of Sakusa's lips - but then he slips off into drowsiness - the tartness of tangerines haunting his dreams, juxtaposed with the gentle sweetness that is simply, inexplicably Kiyoomi.

Atsumu’s not sure when this started - when hanging out with Sakusa Kiyoomi became part of his daily routine - when sliding next to Sakusa Kiyoomi became an inevitable fact of life, regardless of whether he’d be loudly shouting with Hinata, or pummelling Bokuto over some silly bet. A lot of it is probably from his dogged persistence - but it’s still surprising how they’ve gone in a blink of an eye from mere teammates to good friends.

And yet, he thinks, frowning at the back of the setter who’s currently doing his best to try to disinfect every single surface of the gym equipment he’s currently meant to be helping to carry for Meian (decidedly ignoring the fact that he’s also very comfortably perched on the floor under the guise of an extended water break with Hinata), he’s never seen that damn smile even once.

And sure, Atsumu has always been a too-curious-for-his-own-good kind of guy - but this particular bet echoes in his mind for some reason he can’t name. Maybe because it involves someone else for a change. Maybe because that person is Sakusa Kiyoomi, out of all people - the one person Atsumu can never accurately predict, the one person who clashes with Atsumu like gasoline and oil but complements him like fire and kindling.

“Is he staring at Kiyoomi-kun again?”

Before Atsumu can think of an accurate response, Shoyo loudly cuts in, shushing Bokuto with what is meant to be a discreet whisper.

It’s obvious why he’s his favourite Kouhai, really, Atsumu proudly thinks as he lets his eyes wander back towards Sakusa’s expansive back. Always ready to defend his superiors-

“We’re not meant to tell him we know!”

Atsumu blinks once, brain grinding to a halt as he considers the words.

“Know what?”

Bokuto and Atsumu make sudden eye contact, and Atsumu feels a sudden urge to take a deep breath and count to ten.

See, the thing about the rest of the MSBY jackals is that the one thing - if it can be called a thing - that brings them together is their pestlike nature. Sure, some of them are upfront about it - like Sakusa, who would gladly invoice you an itemised list of everything you’ve done wrong the past month - while some of them are less intentional about it - like Adriah accidentally revealing he’s been watching Atsumu figure out whether it was a push or pull door for months on an end.

Individually, however, both Bokuto and Hinata are probably the best at it - simply because the two of them are so genuine about it. You think they’re doing good and being honest until Bokuto’s loudly weeping on your shoulder about how beautiful Akaashi is at 3 am after offering to buy you a round, or Hinata’s grinding alongside you into the air - subsequently making a fool of yourselves on Instagram.

And then you end up forgiving them, in the end, simply because they’re both fucking sweethearts about everything.

Which is precisely why Atsumu’s already made a mistake by ignoring the biggest red flag of this entire conversation - the fact that the two of them are in complete agreement over something.

“It’s just...your vibe.”

“Our….vibe?”

Hinata pauses, momentarily deep in thought. “Like… the tension between the both of you where you’re always staring at him, and he doesn’t look back until you’re not looking at him. And you also know everything about him like his favourite snacks and colours and flowers, even the things Bokuto and I never notice! And the fact that you always spend time around him outside practices, and you’re always able to predict his bams and counter with your kachows! It’s like me and Kageyama before-”

Before Hinata can go into even more sappy and excruciating detail about his own love life and make Atsumu feel pathetic about the lack of his own, his mind glazes over to absorb Hinata’s spiral.

Tension? Sure, he has regular tension with Sakusa Kiyoomi. It’s inevitable when you’re dealing with someone exactly like Sakusa Kiyoomi, who walks around 24/7 with an insane amount of rules and a stick up his ass. If there is any tension in the first place, it’s only from the frankly ridiculous amount of little grievances that Sakusa has about everything Atsumu does in general. Not that Atsumu really minds changing his habits, even if a good 50% are external factors, if only because adapting to seeing and living alongside a more comfortable Sakusa Kiyoomi is something he secretly doesn’t mind.

The one thing that’d help dissolve some of that tension, however, is probably the fact that Kiyoomi has still never smiled in his direction. But now that he does think about it though, the two of them are probably his best bet on trying to figure out whether Sakusa’s capable of smiling - given Motoya’s probably in both Suna and Osamu’s pocket when it comes to the terms of the bet.

“It's for science.”

“For science?”

“For personal reasons.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m performing a socially backed-up study.”

“Wow.”

“It's Osamu’s fault.” He’s losing credibility.

“Tsum-Tsum, just because you like Sakusa–”

“Shut up.”

It’s because he really, really doesn’t. Sure, it’s been quite some time since he’s made out with someone or looked for another outlet to blow off some steam. And sure, he and Sakusa have been getting along together - and they do spend enough time off the court for their relationship to be misconstrued. And even if Atsumu is irrationally overly invested in making Sakusa smile for reasons he can’t explain, it’s not like there’s any concrete proof of it.

It’s mere conjecture. Plausible Deniability.

-Or it’s plausible deniability until a stray curl falls across Sakusa’s face, and Atsumu lets his gaze travel across the moles littering his face - mapping the haphazard constellations he makes until he meets Sakusa’s gaze head-on from across the room, a sharp pang in his chest pulling him in like a siren’s song.

Omi-kun would look really good with a smile, Atsumu first thinks. I wouldn’t mind seeing it every day, is the next thought and oh, he suddenly understands Bokuto and Hinata’s casual sappy comments about their own lives and their partners, because he’s pretty sure he’s fallen head over heels for the most insufferable person he knows - fallen for the snark in his voice whenever he insults him and the quiet care at which he makes space for him - fallen for the constant push and pull between them and the stupidest quirks like the way he secretly loves reading maudlin poetry and the way he competes over everything.

Oh fuck, he faintly thinks.

Atsumu’s not sure what he wants to do right now. Scream? Cry? Kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi until he’s out of breath? Seek therapy?

Bokuto sympathetically pats his shoulder with the wisdom of a centuries-old wizard as Atsumu crumples into his hands.

“Don’t worry! You can just go up to him and kiss him! It worked out with me and Akaashi!”

He should have swapped to the Schweiden Adlers when he had the chance.

+1.

Here’s the thing about Sakusa Kiyoomi. Even though their relationship can be tenuous even on good days, and on some other days he’s a complete prick - well, the one thing that he doesn’t let it interfere with is his damn sense of professionalism.

It’s unsettling, the way he’s able to push everything aside and pretend to notice the way Atsumu’s been ignoring him for days on an end, terrified by the sudden realisation that he wants to kiss Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi. Sometimes, when Atsumu feels particularly self-flagellating, and he notices him looking his way but not saying a word, he lets himself think that it wouldn’t matter in the first place - that Sakusa has never cared.

It’s suffocating, the sudden realization that you like someone, he thinks. Like inviting a beast willing to swallow him up whole. Atsumu knows himself - he knows he won't be able to disguise it for long, that he'll burst eventually, the words he'd fought to keep buried rushing from his lips the moment Kiyoomi looks at him.

But for now, he’ll contend himself by pushing himself further. Even though his t-shirt is soaked it sticks uncomfortably to his back, he meets Kiyoomi’s challenge with gritted teeth and satisfaction searing through his veins, agreeing to stay back even as the rest of the team files out of the gymnasium.

The set starts easy. Even though Sakusa sometimes goes easy on the others, he never goes easy on him. Watching him give it his all, hair barely unruffled, even as his eyes narrow on the tosses Atsumu sends at him, makes the satisfaction in his ribs flare and grow.

By the time they stop, both of them are breathing hard, and Atsumu briefly squeezes his eyes shut as he sees Sakusa step forward.

“You don’t have to try so hard.”

Atsumu stills, nearly flinching at the inexplicable hurt that comes with finally having Kiyoomi’s concern - the intense want that comes with being this close. Like this, less than one foot away from each other, there’s a small part of him that wants to simply give in to the voice in his mind to pin Sakusa Kiyoomi to a wall and kiss him till he forgets his name.

But he doesn’t know how to ask for that. Can’t ask for that.

“I do.” Doesn’t he fucking get it?

Kiyoomi’s gaze turns quizzical, even as he takes another step forward, so close to Atsumu he can feel his breath on his skin - can see the slight crinkle between his brow, can see the golden light framing him already like a memory.

“Why?”

It’s warm and inviting, the way his voice echoes in the empty room, the air still between them except for the rush of blood in his ears and the thundering of his heartbeat.

“Because I’m in horribly into you, you idiot.”

He looks at his lips for a split second before it hits him - an insane cocktail of adrenaline and embarrassing bravery that grabs him by the neck until he’s digging his fingers into his scalp, and he pulls Sakusa Kiyoomi till their lips finally, finally touch.

Kissing Sakusa is like kissing the sun - like tasting the softest and sweetest thing Atsumu’s ever known, and he chases after it - colliding into his body and slotting his easily into his own as if they’d been carved together from the very start. Atsumu kisses him harder, burying his hands into his hair, and Kiyoomi loops a hand around him before dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. Atsumu whines, pliant in his hands, ready for him to take and take, a silly grin parting his lips against his will as his brain goes blissfully quiet - happy to stay like this, framed against a window underneath the sloping sun - just like this, for the rest of his life, having found everything he wants to know.

And then it hits him like a truck.

Oh. Oh fuck.

He doesn't even have time to come up with an excuse by the time Sakusa steps back, lips red and puffy with a giant smile on his face.

Atsumu feels his face burning as he reaches out, ever so gently to brush a thumb over his lips, the touch lingering even as he caresses the corner of his mouth agonisingly slow, as though memorising the features of Atsumu’s face.

He’s dizzy, and the world doesn’t seem to make much sense right now, the thoughts in his brain blurring from coherent thoughts to simple exclamation marks.

But then Sakusa Kiyoomi begins to laugh, wild and free, and Atsumu knows he’s a complete goner.

His eyes are bright and inviting, sparkling with genuine mirth that spills from his face, lighting the skin up in a way Atsumu never knew he could fall in love with - brightens his face up in a way Atsumu now knows he won’t be able to live without. Even as Sakusa’s hands wander freely across his face, Atsumu feels his face heat up - suddenly shy even as he parts his lips in a silent request. Kiss me, he thinks, half pleadingly, as Sakusa’s fingers stray dangerously close to his lips, moving with a deliberateness and earnestness Atsumu has never felt before, kiss me until I can’t breathe - until the only thing that I can think of is you.

“You know”, he finally hums, tucking his head into the crook of his neck, tangling his hands behind his back and pulling him tight. “I was wondering how long it’d take you.”

Atsumu gasps, his entire body going beet red even as Kiyoomi nuzzles him close to his ear, cool breath hot against the sensitive skin on his neck.

“You—this is not how I wanted to tell ya! I wasn’t even sure if I was ever gonna tell ya, you absolute ass!”

“I thought you liked me”, Kiyoomi hums, light and free in a way that Atsumu hasn’t heard before.

Atsumu freezes, voice catching even as he looks at the ground. “You’re welcome to ignore that.”

“What if I don’t want to?” asks Sakusa, half smile still on his face, even as Atsumu scrambles back out of his embrace, face aflame, only half convinced this entire sequence isn’t just an extended hallucination from the universe.

“Ya serious?”

But then Sakusa laughs again, sound too real and vivid to ever compare to any of his fantasies, sweat dripping down his skin and eyes earnest and bright, and he reaches forward to grip his wrists gently, pulling him back into a hug again, light slanting through the glass and painting them aglow - eyes closed and hearts peaceful, perfectly in bliss.

Kiyoomi doesn’t answer him - instead, he lifts his head and kisses him, enough times that he loses count until his brain is dazed - until he’s a little but a mess under his palms and Atsumu finds he couldn’t care less.

“If I had known it would lead to this”, Atsumu finally says, biting his bottom lip as his chin rests on top of Kiyoomi’s head, “I would have embarrassed myself in front of the team a lot sooner.”

“You embarrass yourself enough anyway.” he finally hums, no real heat behind the comment. Atsumu still isn’t sure if he deserves that smile or those words and Kiyoomi’s whole heart - and he knows when the others get back they’re going to tease him mercilessly, but right now Sakusa Kiyoomi is looking at him with all the warmth of the world in his eyes and Atsumu finally knows what he looks like when he cares. When he cares about him. It's—it's so lovely that it makes his chest ache.

Maybe, Atsumu finally concedes, some drunken bets with Osamu aren’t that bad after all.

#haikyuu #hq #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #sakuatsu #atsumu #osamu #atsumu miya #osamu miya #sakusa x atsumu #skts #haikyuu fic #hqbb2023 #fan fiction #i lied i still have no clue how to tag fic. god bless.#also a lot of this fic was written like. past 24 hours. me if i never procrastinated

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