#I finished my last final today and my roommate is gone so I'm not braining at 100% sorry if this is incoherent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justablah56 · 2 years

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I wrote a thing :)

read it on Ao3 here

Sooo, have this little analogical roommates au that I decided to make up for this one specific oneshot (unless people like this au and want me to write more for it) !! Little bit of context, in this au all the sides are roommates, don't ask me how it works unless you want my very specific way that it looks and works out in my head so there's that. I'm just writing about these two gay dumbasses because them <3 :)

There's no trigger warnings for this fic, it's all fluff today. and for a bit of mostly irrelevant info, I have decided that Logan gets to be 5' 4 and Virgil gets to be 6' 5. because fuck you, tall Virgil and short Logan rights. also Virgil is definitely a tummy appreciator, and Logan just happens to have a tummy, I don't make the rules. and as per usual in my fics, Virgil uses they/them pronouns :)

Logan woke up groggy and exhausted. He had stayed up probably a little too late last night, and now his brain wouldn't even give him the mercy of sleeping in. Rather, it had woken him up earlier than normal. 4:03 in the morning to be exact, having gone to sleep not even 2 hours previously.

In summary, Logan was miserable. He even tried to go back to sleep, but after 27 minutes it was evident that it wasn't going to happen, so he decided it was about time he actually woke up.

He got up, slipping his glasses on, but not bothering to put on a shirt or change out of his baggy grey sweatpants. After all, it wasn't like anyone else was going to be awake this early.

He left his room for the kitchen to make some coffee for himself with the hopes that it would give him the energy to function properly.

After his coffee was done, he sat himself down on one of the chairs in front of the counter. Zoning out and just barely aware of anything else that was happening around him other than the steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

His mug was half empty before he really started to gain consciousness, and he noticed that there was something on the chair he was sitting on. He really only noticed since the chair, which usually was quite uncomfortable honestly, was now... not uncomfortable?

Whatever it was, it was pretty warm. And soft. And it smelled quite nice now that he thought about it.

He was still tired enough that this didn't register to his sleep deprived brain as anything important enough to divert actual thought into. So, of course, he continued drinking his coffee and just enjoying the comforting smell, feeling relaxed and content.

Virgil on the other hand, woke up that morning, feeling... off. They weren't sure exactly why. Well, that wasn't particularly unusual, being anxiety they often felt like something was wrong. But hey, if it was anything important they were sure they'd figure it out.

They got up out of bed, and then they realized what was wrong. Their hoodie was not hanging up where they always made sure to put it before bed. Fuck, this was not good. Not only were they going to be cold all day, but they wouldn't have their hoodie. And that also meant that they'd have to ask the others if any of them had seen it.

Well, wait a minute, no it didn't. They could find it themself. They always woke up earlier than everyone else, so maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to find it before anyone else woke up. It was still only 5 am, so they had two-to-three hours before anyone else was due to wake up, assuming everyone else didn't suddenly decide to differentiate from their usual schedule.

They would start with their room obviously, it was the most likely place after all, and then they would check the living room, and they could work it out after that. It was unlikely that it was anywhere else, really. There weren't a lot of places they was comfortable taking his hoodie off.

Well, they might as well start looking, it's not like the hoodie would find itself.

It wasn't until Logan had finished his coffee 30 minutes later that his brain finally caught up to his unusually comfortable chair and decided to actually look and see what he was sitting on. He turned back to see... Virgil's jacket?

What was that doing here? Virgil never went anywhere without their jacket, it was unlike them to just leave it lying around. They must've just forgotten it. Somehow. Virgil never just forgot their hoodie, Logan had never even seen them without it on! Something must've happened.

Well... Virgil would likely want to know where their jacket was when they woke up, so Logan should keep it on him, right? It was purely so that Virgil could get their hoodie back as quickly as possible. Obviously.

And therefore, it would only make sense for him to just wear it, then he wouldn't misplace it and he could just give it to Virgil once they woke up! Yes, that's what he would do, it was a perfectly great plan with no alternative motives. Of course.

Logan sighed. Well, there was no point in attempting to reason himself into believing that there was a decent reason he wanted to put on the hoodie, he knew why (though hed never admit it, of course) and he also knew he was going to do it anyway, so there was no point trying to give it an explanation.

He slipped the hoodie over his shoulders was immediately struck by how warm it was. Virgil must've had some sort of heating mechanism in it to keep it that way if it was still warm after being left out all night (presumably). That thought was immediately followed by how good it smelled. It didn't really have a discernable smell, other than just... Virgil.

No no. None of that. Just because he didn't have the optimum amount of sleep didn't mean he had to get all... feelings-y. So the next reasonable thing to do was continue with his morning routine. After all, waking up early doesn't mean he gets to mess up his whole schedule. Meaning that he had to get up from the counter to continue with his morning routine.

He dragged himself out of the chair, not bothering to zip up the jacket, but he did bother pulling the sleeve over his hand and bringing it to his nose to get another smell of the hoodie. Of Virgil. No. Stop. It didn't have anything to do with it smelling like Virgil specifically, it just smelled good. Virgil just (objectively) smelled good! It's an objective fact that Logan has no biases toward. Obviously.

The next thing he realized upon getting up from his chair was how big Virgil's hoodie was on him. Virgil already liked wearing large clothes, not to mention the fact that they were by no means short, standing a good foot or so taller than Logan himself. So putting those facts together meant that the hoodie went just above his knees, effectively keeping his bare torso warm (which was the only reason his face was red, thank you very much).

He then rinsed out his coffee mug, and started some toast. After all, breakfast was an important part of one's day. He really should've started it when he started his coffee like he did normally, but given that normally he didn't only get 2 hours of sleep, he felt he had at least a bit of leeway.

A few minutes later his toast popped up and Logan got the jelly out to put on it. He rolled up the sleeves on Virgil's jacket, it would do no good to get jelly on their jacket of course, and quickly prepared his little breakfast.

After he finished the slice of toast he made a quick stop by his room for a book to read for the next hour or so. Seeing as most of today's schedule depended on the others being able to help, he might as well use this free time to do something he actually enjoys.

He settled himself on the couch against one of the armrests and began to read.

Fuck. Virgil had spent the last hour checking every nook and cranny of their room and, lo and behold, their hoodie was nowhere to be found. Which meant, that they now had to go outside their room to search for it, with only one more hour to check the rest of the mindscape before everyone was supposed to wake up.

Well. They'd better hurry then. They pulled a shirt on, and slipped out their door towards the commons.

The sight they were met with as they reached the top of the stairs was enough to stop them in their tracks.

Right there. On the couch. Was Logan. Wearing their hoodie. Now, if it had been literally anyone else, Virgil would undoubtedly be at least a bit upset, but when it came to Logan, all they could do was stare as they felt their face heat up.

Logan was curled up leaning against the arm of the couch, one hoodie-concealed hand pressed to his face, the other holding his book open. And as if just the sight of Logan drowning in their hoodie wasn't enough to leave them a gay mess, he didn't have a shirt on.

At this point in time Virgil would like to pride themself on not passing out, because it was then that Logan seemed to deem it time to stop reading. He put in his bookmark and proceeded to stretch his arms up over his head, closing his eyes and yawning as Virgil's hoodie slipped over his bare chest.

Virgil's eyes went wide and were immediately drawn to the small pouch that was Logan's stomach. Goddamn it- why did Logan have to be so fucking cute and why did Virgil have to be so fucking gay.

It was then that Logan relaxed his arms and opened his eyes. Which wasn't the best thing when Virgil was currently standing completely and utterly still, enamored with just Logan, within Logan's vision field now that he wasn't focused on his book.

After Logan had finished a couple chapters, he decided that he should probably actually go get dressed. After all, he couldn't just wait for everyone else to wake up and see him half naked in Virgil's hoodie, he had a reputation. And now that he was properly awake, he probably shouldn't be wearing Virgil's hoodie whenever they decided to wake up, they were awfully touchy with their hoodie.

However, it appeared that he was just a bit too late- for as he stretched in preparation for getting up, he looked up to see who else? But Virgil themself standing at the top of the stairs, face red, eyes wide, and staring directly at Logan.

Well, not directly. Not his eyes, anyway. No, Virgil's eyes were focused, quite intently he might add, on Logan's stomach.

Logan immediately flushed and went to cover his bare torso with the hoodie, only to remember that the hoodie belonged to the very person right in front of him, struggling to get out of the hoodie to give it to them.

Logan looked back up to see Virgil's eyes had flicked up to Logan's as soon as Logan had moved to cover himself.

"Sh-shit sorry- I was- I was going to give it back when you woke up, I swear-" Logan began to stutter out.

It was then that they interrupted him with their own apology, "No- fuck- I, I - I didn't mean to- to stare or anything I just-"

They brought their hands up to cover their steadily reddening face as they quickly glanced away from him again, pointedly looking at the wall behind him.

After just a few moments of awkward (and very gay) silence and avoided eye contact from both of them,

"Erm- Virgil. You could- W- Would you like to have your hoodie back?" Logan asked hesitantly, beginning to take off the jacket, assuming their answer.

"Oh! Um," Virgil's gaze landed back on Logan's for a moment, "Yes? Well- no- you actually look really fucking cute in my hoodie and ohmyfuck I don't know why I just said that-" they rushed the last bit out, sounding absolutely mortified at what Logan was pretty sure they had just confessed.

Logan froze, "Y- Wait. What? I- You. think I'm cute?"

Virgil once again removed their hands from their still blazing face, "Er- Yes? I mean, have you seen yourself? Anyone who doesn't think you're cute is either blind or lying, so-"

"Virgil." Logan started, gaining some hidden confidence from god knows where as he took a few steps towards the stairs that Virgil was still standing atop. Perhaps he had been embolden by Virgil's words, or maybe it was just that Virgil had been the one to say them, but regardless whatever his brain decided to do with this newfound confidence, it was likely going to end up being overly blunt.

Virgil looked down at him, now looking a bit confused along with their flushed face. "Um. Yes, Logan?" they asked.

Logan stepped up the rest of the stairs until he had reached the top. "Kiss me?" he asked, looking up and hesitantly reaching for Virgil's hand.

Virgil froze, face going blank for a moment just long enough for Logan to doubt his ability to assess the current situation, before breaking out into a grin and answering with a "God yes." as they grabbed Logan's hand in one of theirs and wrapped their other arm around Logan as they leaned far enough down to press their lips against his own.

#sanders sides #sandersides #logan sanders #tss logan #virgil sanders #tss virgil #analogical #tall virgil #short logan #chubby logan #sander sides fic #my writing

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mega-bastard · 3 years

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ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴇ ʏ

frat boy! oikawa tooru x iwaizumi's gf! reader

warnings: cheating (everyone's cheating in this frat house tonight), drugging (reader thought she was doing coke, actually percs), drug mentions: coke, weed, percs, non-con, gas-lighting, manipulation, iwai and oiks are shitty frat boys what can i say

wc: 1.9k

a/n: my piece for the intoxicated collab hosted by the whore house <3 you can check it out here! i have never written for this pretty rat bastard but I kinda like this version of oikawa that now lives in my brain. he's a shitty bastard but meh. this is very, very, very, v e r y loosely based on a real experience i had with percs ( i don't condone the use of percs !! ). also, do not mix drugs if you are doing them, especially percs with alcohol!

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you know you're fucked as the last of the pretty white line vanishes through the end of a cut-up straw and into your nose. that too pretty smile tooru's wearing almost looks sinister as the feeling of prickles dances across your brain and the feeling of slight numbness snakes up your appendages. it's cemented further when drowsiness sinks in.

worst of all, you know you've lost when tooru's featherlight touch across your bottom lip has you sucking his thumb like your boyfriend isn't somewhere else in the same house

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leading up to the frat party, you were excited ! time spent with your roommate was always fun, your partner in crime for getting wasted silly before proceeding to call your boyfriends to be picked up and continue the fun from there.

their frat's parties are always choice, thematic some days and just a reason to drink and make poor choices others. your poison of choice always being egging hajime on throughout the night to be fucked dumb when he's pushed beyond his limit-- the perfect fun for you.

but there's always tooru.

it's been too many times to count where you think you've finally got hajime right where you need him and then tooru's there to effectively whisk hajime away-- always with a snide reminder that you're there with your roommate, his girlfriend so 'why don't you go find her, she'll get lonely!'

ironic, considering that if she and you were up to trouble together he'd badger you over being negligent of hajime.

regardless, you fully entitled to enjoy yourself tonight-- tooru be damned.

before you could fester longer on the leech that was tooru, your roommate poses a comment about the outfits planned for tonight. it's enough to steal away your attention, and you find yourselves trying and tossing off clothes interspersed with chatter and gossip of all manner. by the end of it, you look downright sinful-- dressed in a silky feeling black bodycon with lace trim.

the intention is to rile hajime up, get him irritated having to be watchful over you to keep his sleazy frat brothers away. except for tooru, he's always the exception. he couldn't let any of his other brothers be the exception? you'd take temperamental kyotani over tooru any day. it's only a minor bonus kyotani is nice to look at.

by the time your roommate is ushering you to the uber you're quite tipsy, still aware of yourself but relaxed enough to giggle along to the lame jokes your uber throws over his shoulder at you two. idly, you think he's kinda cute.

the party is in full swing by the time your uber pulls up, people idling out on the lawn in stark contrast to the blaring music coming from the house itself. hajime and tooru are waiting outside for the both of you as you exit the uber. giving the uber a sweet smile before closing the door.

you try to ignore the lingering look tooru fixates you with as you make your way to the boys.

" tooooruuuu~" your roommate all but throws herself into her boyfriend, giggly and happy to see him. he returns the embrace, peppering her cheery face in kisses before returning her greeting "hi princess, you look ravishing as usual."

you fight to keep the cringe of your face at the nickname, opting to ignore their sugary-sweet pda in favor of hajime. you link your arms behind his neck before blinking up at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his chin before grinning cheekily " hi bubs, missed you today". his own hands settle on your hips, rubbing softly at the material of your dress before smiling down at you. he mumbles his own greeting before pressing a kiss to your temple, beginning to drag you inside.

you don't miss the familiar stare of someone staring down your neck.

all too quickly, between games of cup pong, kings cup, and random shots; your separated from hajime and squished between hanamaki and matsukawa on a ratty couch in the garage with an odd group of people. you're vaguely aware of matsukawa's arm thrown over your shoulders.

you don't try to move it.

you're half engaged in the conversation going on, between being drunk and swimming in the heady smell of weed, you're just kinda sitting there zoning in and out. there's a sizable bong being passed around, and despite only having met them a handful of times prior, hanamaki and matsukawa seem to know better than to offer you a hit-- at least that's what you tell yourself. across from you, there's a blond girl cutting lines of coke on a handheld mirror, looking up briefly with a raised eyebrow in question. you've met her prior, you've literally done lines with her, but her name is escaping you.

you feel stupid.

you're about to nod along when matsukawa's arm is thrown off you, two hands coming down on your shoulders in a bruising grip. you wince when you meet tooru's chocolate eyes.

he looks kinda pissed.

"y/n ! I've been looking alllll over for you !" his voice is as princely as ever, but the sneer on his face and the barely there anger under his tone pisses you off. you decide to push him before he starts pushing you.

"where's 'princess' at? can't believe you left my poor roommate all alone in this house" you tsk and pout, shaking your head. tooru's face momentarily sours before he's looping around the couch and dragging you to your feet, pulling you to the door without a word. you glance back briefly at hanamaki and matsukawa, but they look just as put off as you.

weird.

you follow, not sure if it's curiosity or just being drunk for you simpered obedience. you're led past hajime's room where you hear noise-- notably hajime and someone else but you can't think too hard about it with tooru's tightening grip on your wrist. this would be nice if it were hajime pulling you along. you stop in front of a door at the very end of the hall.

it's tooru's room.

volleyball trophies and keepsakes line the shelves, along with other commemorative keepsakes. a picture of him and your roommate, him and hajime, a group picture of the four of you as well. you're about the prod for answers when he beats you to it.

"don't worry about my 'princess', she with hajime right now!" he sneers down at you, loving the confusion that crosses your pretty little face before continuing "i figured i'd come check in on you since hajime seems to be doing a shit job of it." you're only partially surprised by the drop from his usual cheerful speech and vocabulary, but to hear him come at hajime unabashedly is strange.

it's actually really fucking weird all things considered.

"what do you mean by that? why's he with her..." and not me? the sentence practically finishes itself and tooru's sneer grows as your mind begins to tumble over itself. " you know, maybe he just can't handle you anymore? he's always bitching to me about you" tooru sighs, hand raised to his chin thoughtfully. something in your chest aches at the thought, mind nowhere near sober enough to see past tooru winding you up.

"you know, I tried arguing with hajime about it on your behalf. sure you're needy as hell and a borderline nympho but you're soooo cute! if i wasn't dating my princess, I wouldn't hesitate to steal you away~" it comes out teasingly, but his words are downright awful. you're not needy...right? sure you like sex, but hajime never complained about it.

you kinda feel like shit.

turning on your heels, you make for the door before tooru latches onto your wrist again. that same bruising grip back again, you whirl on him ready to lay into him before he shakes an orange pill bottle in your face. eyes narrowed, you glare up at him. what the hell is he up too?

"to make it up to you for bumming your night and causing you to miss out saeko's cheap shit, why don't we have a little pick me up?" his sneer is gone now, simmered down to what could be a genuine smile. you weigh your options, dull red flashing lights go off in your mind but safety be damned-- you need a pick me up. "fine, fine. i'd rather get something from you than just anybody." tooru looks a little surprised at your admittance, but you plop yourself on his bed before you can stare up at his pretty face any longer. he turns his back to you in favor of his desk, clearing space and procuring his debit card and a dollar bill before popping the lid on the pills and grabbing one.

you don't watch him crush the pill, and that's your fatal mistake.

all too soon, zoned out staring around the room while lost in your pitiful thoughts, tooru calls you over. "you're a big girl, I'm sure you know how to snort it" his voice is teasing, but you fail to notice just how focused he looks staring down at you. you grab a cut straw, no longer than two inches, and line one end to your nose and the other to the white line.

it feels wrong.

worst of all, you know you've lost when tooru's featherlight touch across your bottom lip has you sucking his thumb like your boyfriend isn't somewhere else in the same house.

god this so wrong, but the way tooru ushers you backwards until the back of your knees meet his bed, and you fall on your back feels nice. everything feels nice, his thumb in your mouth, his comforter on your back. the way he's staring down at you, laser-focused on just you... it's very nice.

but incredibly wrong.

hajime is in a room nearby, the fact eats at you.

tooru withdraws his hand from your face, thumb briefly pressing along your plush lips before crawling over you. he buries his head in your neck, nibbling and sucking along the length of it like a starved dog. you whimper, it's wrong but why does it feel so good? a particularly nasty bite forces a moan from your mouth, mind spinning at the pleasure despite the numbness.

you're terrible for getting off on this, you're a terrible girlfriend. tooru, evidently, is a terrible boyfriend. he drugged you but who's gonna believe you? you did agree to do it, you didn't ask what it was. your thoughts are spiraling.

tooru's hand leaves a blazing trail up your thigh, sliding up underneath your little dress and squeezing your upper thigh. you don't like this. weakly, you grab onto tooru's wrist in an attempt to halt his movements. he shakes it off, kissing along your jaw before mumbling to what you assume is more-so to himself than you.

"knew i was gonna fuck you when you strolled up in this, hajime's really missing out tonight"

tears bubble to your eyes.

you really don't want this.

#fuck me man #many thoughts about frat boy oikawa tonight #the intoxicated collab #tw drugs #tw noncon #tw drugging #tw dark content #there subtle hints to yandere oikawa #maybe it just me bc i wrote it #tbh i might have to write a follow up #yandere oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa tooru x y/n #haikyuu x reader #reader isn't a very good person either #18+

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guessmonsta · 4 years

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hello my queen... returned to her castle I see? Could you please do a thing just like the Kuroo one except Kuroo is Bokuto's wingman? I'm so soft for them and you ohmygoodness

You’re adorable and I appreciate you so much. For legal reasons I created a fake cafe called The Gazelle. I’ve used it like twenty times if this is a real place I’m so sorry

It was a very rare occurrence for Bokuto to be awake before noon on a weekend. It was even rarer that he was sprinting across campus to get to Kuroo’s dorm at nine in the morning. Campus custodians gave him weird looks, girls walking to their professors office hours giggled at him, but he just kept running.

Kuroo lived on the eighth floor in the farthest dormitory building from Bokuto’s. He ran up the stairs, skipping two as he went, and once he finally got to Kuroo’s door, he didn’t even bother to knock, he just slammed his fist against the door in one harsh blow.

From inside, he heard Kuroo mutter a quick, “fucking hell,” to his roommate before the door swung open in his face. Kuroo didn’t look amused, and scanned Bokuto up and down before he snorted, covering up his mouth with his hand.

“I’m not gonna judge your lifestyle bro,” Kuroo snorted, “but literally, what the hell.”

“Listen, hear me out,” Bokuto began, still slightly out of breath. “The cute girl who works at The Gazelle has a shift right now.”

“What?” Kuroo stared at him dumbfounded. “How do you know that?”

“Me and, and a couple of my friends from statistics have been taking notes on each time she works. She always works Saturday mornings so-” Kuroo cut him off by laughing again, then stepped out into the hallway and motioned Bokuto to start walking. No matter the situation, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, Kuroo was always readily available for anything Bokuto had in mind.

“So you’ve been stalking this girl?”

“Bro, I’m not stalking her, I’m just admiring her. A-and that admiration has gotten to a kind of unhealthy level to me personally, as a person.”

“Wait, so have you actually ever even talked to this girl?” Kuroo asked, and was faced with Bokuto widening his eyes. “Dude, you’ve gawked at her every single time we’ve gone, and you haven’t even talked to her?”

“I ordered a hot cocoa from her that one time-” Bokuto sighed, “I sound like a simp.”

“Bro, you aren’t a simp. What you are is stupid. How the hell are you going to work together with your statistics friends to recreate some random girls' work schedule but you all have a D in the class?”

“Listen-” Bokuto laughed. “Sora says that she has dyscalculia, and that the rest of us probably have it too. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Kuroo. Sorry I can’t be a perfect chem major like you.” He teased, socking Kuroo in the arm. Kuroo winced slightly, then punched him back.

“Yeah, you have your strengths for sure.”

“Okay, so I’m probably gonna actually talk to her today.”

“Wow, making big boy moves.” Kuroo laughed, “Where’s this coming from?”

“I can’t tell if it’s fake confidence or adrenaline!” Bokuto shrugged. “Both work!”

Once they entered the cafe, the familiar smell of coffee beans, warmth, and just a tinge of something else hit Bokuto and made him so much more nervous. Why should he be nervous? He was hot. He was sexy. He was 6’2 of big beefy muscle and fat ass, he shouldn’t be afraid of rejection!

But then he saw her. __ hair pulled back into two pigtail french braids as she politely took a stoners order at the counter. He finally got to see her eyes, they were __, pretty __ eyes and the cutest little smile and this cute little way her nose scrunched up when she did-

Kuroo was laughing at him. Kuroo was doubled over Bokuto’s shoulder, absolutely wheezing at him, and Bokuto no longer knew how to feel.

“Bro, not cool!”

“You’re just-” Kuroo started cackling, his signature loud witch cackle, and Bokuto felt his face flush red. The pretty barista made eye contact with him at the sound of Kuroo’s laugh, cocked an eyebrow, then went back to her order. The butterflies promptly returned to his stomach.

“The way you looked at her bro-” Kuroo hiss whispered. “Priceless.”

“Get your shit together dude, you gotta be my wingman!”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Kuroo managed to choke out between laughs. “This is too much.”

“You’re horrible! I can’t be my own wingman! How am I supposed to hype myself up without looking like a complete jackass-”

Before Bokuto could finish, he realized that they were next up to order. Pretty __ Eyes looked at him and cocked her head, a shy, playful smile crossing her cheeks.

“Hi there! How can I help you today?” She chirped. Awh, even her customer service voice was adorable, he thought to himself. He sighed, trying to suppress a goofy smile on his face. Somehow, Kuroo got it together enough to stammer out, “Hey, hi, yeah, can I get uhhhh… iced latte with oat milk and vanilla flavoring please?” like a dork would.

Bokuto was so caught up thinking about how the prettiest girl in the world was somehow working at a cafe and not walking the runway, and why Kuroo would order something with oat milk out of all things, to even realize that he had to order next. Before he could snap out of his daze, he heard Kuroo laugh.

“Sorry about my friend. When he was born, all his brain cells were converted into sexy instead.”

The barista covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a laugh, and Bokuto felt a hot blush run up his neck. He would’ve punched Kuroo in the arm, but figured he had to keep his cool.

“I-” The barista giggled, not even trying to hold back her laugh. “I mean, yeah, good for him?”

“Oh yeah.” Kuroo leaned his arm up on the counter. There was nobody else behind them, and Kuroo knew what he was doing. “I mean look at the guy. Seventy four inches of pure, raw sex. Do you like volleyball?”

At this point, Pretty __ Eyes was borderline hysterics. Bokuto was starting to think Kuroo was less of a wingman and more of his own, personal jester.

“Yeah, I played in high school.” She responded. Cute, and played volleyball? Bokuto just felt the blush just hotter.

“Yeah, this guy right here, Owlboy Sexyman, he was the fourth best ace in the country, don’t you know. Fukurodani’s captain.”

“Oh wow, you guys went to Fukurodani?”

“Nah, just him. I’m not even a fragment of how cool Mr. Sexyman here is.” Kuroo pointed at him with his thumb, then shook his head. “And he has a fat ass.”

She laughed, and shook her head.

“And does Owlboy Sexyman want anything today?”

At this point, Bokuto couldn’t hide his blush. He knew if he opened his mouth to start talking, he would end up sounding like a dog toy.

So he just stood there.

Kuroo sighed, and kicked him in the shin, which caused him to jump.

“Seems like he’s just too damn sexy today! No brain cells in sight. He’ll take a large iced hot chocolate with extra whip.”

“Sounds great.” She giggled. “Since you guys literally just made my whole shift, I’m gonna give you twenty percent off today.”

“Thank you, you’re a doll.”

When they stepped aside to pay for their drinks, Bokuto burst out laughing. Kuroo looked down at him, and choked back another cackle.

“Did you like what I did there?”

“You-” Bokuto snorted, “Are so fucking stupid.”

“Ah, it’s my specialty.”

“That definitely did not work at all. If anything, she probably likes you from that whole show you put on.”

“Nah, she didn’t look interested in me. Worst case scenario, at least we made a pretty girl laugh at your expense!”

“Yeah, I guess.” Bokuto shrugged.

“Iced latte for Kuroo!” Pretty __ Eyes called out, then handed the drink gingerly over to him. He took a dramatic sip, then sighed.

“Hits the spot.”

“How the heck do they even… milk an oat.” Bokuto muttered, and Kuroo shrugged.

“I dunno. How do they milk almonds?”

“Do almonds have boobs?” Bokuto asked, a little bit too loud.

“Iced hot chocolate for Owlboy Sexyman!”

The moment she announced this, Bokuto wheezed, and Kuroo spit his coffee out in the most violent, dramatic, and cartoonish way possible. Bokuto didn’t know whether or not to keep laughing, or start crying. Kuroo had iced coffee dribbling down his neck like a toddler, but even he himself couldn’t stop laughing.

Bokuto looked up to see Pretty __ Eyes hunched over the serving station convulsing as well. Bokuto walked over to her, and bowed his head in shame, all while laughing.

“I am so-”

“Who the hell are you two!” She stammered between giggles. Bokuto noticed her eyes were brighter when she laughed. He had managed to stop laughing but the smile on his face only grew. She was beautiful and he had no idea how to handle it.

“I am so, so sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” She shook her head. “Your friend has to clean that up, because I’m definitely not going to.”

“He will, he will. “Bokuto looked back over at Kuroo, who was still laughing to himself hysterically, his face buried in his hands. “I promise we’re not on drugs.”

“Hey, it’s college. No judgement.” She smiled, Her fingertips brushed his as she handed him his drink. He noticed that she had scribbled her number on the side of the cup, and the dying blush on his face returned. His mouth gaped a little bit, then he looked back up at her.

“My name is not actually Owlboy Sexyman.”

“I would hope not.” She smiled. “I’m __, by the way.”

“I’m Bokuto.”

“Bokuto.” She repeated, then smiled. “We should hang out sometime. I don’t know many other people around here who play volleyball.”

“Oh, wow, I-” Bokuto nodded and smiled, looking a little bit dumb as he did. “That’s awesome! That’s great! That’s great.”

“See you around then?” She cocked her head. Bokuto nodded a little bit too aggressively.

“I’ll see you around!”

__ shot him one last smile before she turned around and walked back to the order counter. Bokuto sighed a deep sigh, and sat back down next to Kuroo, whose shirt was covered in spit and coffee.

“Dude, you did it.”

Kuroo looked up at him from his hands, and smiled.

“Shit, I would hope so, because this oat milk is fucking disgusting.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! headcanons #Bokuto Koutarou #Kuroo Tetsurou #bokuto koutarou x reader

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honestgrins · 6 years

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KC: You're a pro figure skater and I'm taking my child/nephew/cousin for a fun session and you're just finishing up as I arrive and dear lord you’re hot

I’m so sorry this has taken so (so, SO) long, it’s gone through about six or seven major attempts to get it right. Unfortunately, I still don’t think I’ve nailed it. But I finished…something…so I’m calling it. I wish I could do your lovely prompt more justice, @nemesis729, you’re always so kind to inspire me in the best ways. For what it is, I hope you enjoy it, and please wish me better luck with the gift exchange.

Oh, and the next chapter of Delivered. Whoops.

Icy Hot || Klaroline

She’s pleasantly warm and comfy when her phone rings, and it takes everything in Caroline not to ignore it and burrow more deeply into the covers. Recognizing Kat’s ringtone, though, she snakes a hand out toward the annoying device. Her irritation at leaving her nest is only made worse by the fact her roommate was apparently too lazy to just knock on her door. But it’s not until her knuckles rap on the cold metal of an unfamiliar nightstand that she remembers - she’s not in her own bed.

Her eyes pop open as she clutches the fluffy white comforter to her naked chest. Caroline cranes her neck to peek at the similarly naked man grumbling in his sleep next to her. The memories are slow in catching up with her, but the deep pink lips are an excellent reminder of what had been an immensely satisfying night.

Klaus. His name was Klaus.

The wedding from hell had lasted an hour longer than Caroline’s immaculate schedule accommodated for, and she earned a stronger drink from the hotel bar, far away from demanding brides and their brand new mothers-in-law. Meeting a charming stranger made her relief all the sweeter, especially when he offered a more physical stress release. One night stands weren’t her favorite, but Klaus proved to be worth the deviation from her post-work routine.

Caroline silences her phone, figuring she could call Kat during her cab ride of shame. Looking around the opulent suite, she carefully edges out of bed to locate her clothes, discarded so carelessly the night before. Her nose wrinkles at the pile of fabric that used to be a pristine sheath dress, but at least her shoes are neatly gathered right next to it. The purse takes a little more digging, hidden underneath Klaus’s shirt she remembered tossing onto the dresser.

Glancing back to the bed, she chews her bottom lip, uncertain. Already late for work, she really didn’t have time for a proper goodbye - if he even wanted one. The uncertainty of one night stands was a terror for her habit of overthinking, so Caroline forces herself to make a quick decision. She pops one of her business cards from the clutch, grateful she carries them to all the weddings she plans. Scribbling her cell number along her name, she adds a quick note to the back, “This was fun, call me if you’re ever back in town.”

There, no harm done and ball squarely in his court. He had said he was in New York on business, and Caroline could get used to having a part-time fling. Shimmying into her clothes, she half heartedly fluffs her hair into a serviceable look until she could take a shower back at home. With a final glance over her shoulder, she slips out of the room, leaving Klaus to sleep in.

Her phone is already ringing before she can tell the cabbie her address, and she answers with a huff, “I’m on my way home, Kat.”

“Funny, I thought that was what you said last night,” Katherine drawls, unmoved by her friend’s irritation. “Then I’m waking up to a text from you that you met someone in the bar, without an accompanying photo in case you went missing.”

Caroline winces. It wasn’t like her to lapse on their safety protocol, well established since their college years. Still, she has been pretty distracted even sending that text while Klaus’s lips dragged down her neck in the elevator. “I at least sent the room number?”

“I’m just saying, he better have been hot.” Never let it be said that Katherine Pierce didn’t have her priorities in order. “But since you missed out on morning routine, I figured I should remind you that you’re on pickup duty today.”

Katherine was rocking the fierce lawyer/single mom combo, but as best friend, roommate and honorary aunt, Caroline did her best to help out where she could. It was usually easier for her to get away, given her more flexible work schedule during the day. Frowning, she pulls out her phone to check her calendar. Her brain had yet to catch up to real life; she was sure a part of it was still cozy in bed with Klaus. “Um, school or ballet?”

Amused at her uncharacteristic disorganization, Katherine snorts, “Four o'clock at the ice rink, her skating lesson was moved this week for-”

“-The Olympic exhibition, right,” Caroline finally remembers. “Sorry, you know I don’t function well when I’m running late.”

“Whatever, the agency will survive if you take the morning off, especially if half of what you told me about last night’s bride is true. Who even plans a Wednesday wedding?”

Her shoulders lift with a deep sigh. “Rich people who don’t have to get to work on Thursdays. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them.”

Kat’s tone is commiserating when she answers, “Then go to work, just please don’t forget to bring Nadia home from the rink. I’d hate for you to run into another hot guy and get distracted all over again.”

Laughing, Caroline smiles against the window, looking up at the hotel. “Don’t worry, I don’t think my luck is that good. Tell Nadia I’ll see her this afternoon.”

The cab lurches forward as she hangs up, and she feels oddly energized for the day. Caroline almost enjoys the thrum of anticipation under her skin. Maybe Klaus would call before he left town, just so she could finish off her week in a similarly good mood.

After work, Caroline makes her way to the sports complex where Nadia takes her skating lessons. Letting herself into the building, she shivers at the sudden chill in the air. The ice rink echoes with the scrape of skates and parents chatting.

Caroline settles onto the bleachers, quickly finding Nadia among the seven-year-olds watching their coach demonstrate a spin skill. The little girl waves, her curly ponytail bouncing excitedly behind her until she waves back. As the kids break apart to practice their own spins, she’s amazed to see how confident Nadia is on the ice. Cheerleading and gymnastics experience aside, Caroline’s agility and athleticism never had the added complication of blades strapped to her feet.

More impressive, though, was a man skating at the other end of the rink. Dressed in a sleek, black outfit, he effortlessly glided through a complicated routine. Loops, spins, jumps - each punctuated with a ripple of gasps from the kids and adults alike. Caroline assumes him to be the visiting pro skater, just keeping his muscles warm to show off for the next group. There was something familiar to the way he moved, but she could never get a clear read of his face to see if she recognized him from the last Olympics.

The coach clapped, gathering the kids together to end the lesson. In unison, they all cheer, “Thanks, Mister Mikaelson!” The man abruptly stops to give them a final nod, and the class is dismissed. Scattering off the ice toward the bleachers, they hobble toward their respective guardians.

Nadia grins as she scrambles over to Caroline. “Did you see? I got to skate with Klaus Mikaelson!”

“I did see,” Caroline answers, awareness slow to click in her head when the Olympian skates closer to the edge of the rink. He’s chatting with a man in a suit on the other side of the barricade, but he must feel her eyes because he turns to face her. His own eyes widen, surely reflecting the shock in her expression.

It seemed she would be meeting her fling sooner than hoped.

“U-um,” her voice stutters as she quickly focuses back on Nadia, an odd embarrassment itching at her skin. “Are you ready to go?”

None the wiser to Caroline’s nerves, Nadia is slow to unlace her skates. “Almost. It was so cool, Aunt Caroline! We learned how to toe pick a spin, even though we’re not big enough to do it while moving yet.”

“Caroline?”

She jolts at the warmth of affection in his voice, closer than she expected. Looking up, she finds him leaning over the wall, watching her reaction with interest. “Hi. Um-”

“Aunt Caroline,” Nadia shakes her by the elbow, whispering her awe loudly enough for him to hear. “Klaus Mikaelson is talking to you.”

His mouth tightens like he’s trying not to laugh, and Caroline narrows her eyes into an admittedly amused glare. “Put your street clothes on,” she orders gently, moving off the bleachers to meet him at the edge of the rink.

Klaus gives into his smirk as she approaches. “This is a surprise.”

“I’ll say,” Caroline rolls her eyes. “I didn’t know you would be here. I didn’t know who you were, actually.”

Shrugging, he leans closer toward her. “What’s important is that we know each other now.” His eyebrow quirks with suggestion, but he laughs when she lightly nudges his shoulder. “I was pleased to find you left your number this morning.”

She glances down a moment, trying to ignore the growing heat of her cheeks. “Does that mean you were going to call me?”

Freshly dressed and exhausted from practice, Nadia suddenly appears at her side. “I’m hungry, Aunt Caroline.”

With an apologetic frown at Klaus, she pats Nadia’s head. “Okay, sweetie. Get your bag, we’ll pick up a pizza on our way home. Your mom’s working late, so we can even order pineapple.”

Nadia gives a triumphant cheer as she goes to grab her things, leaving Caroline to face Klaus’s admonishing look. “What?”

“Pineapple on a pizza? The Italians would have your head.”

“Come and get me, Mario, but it’s delicious.” Crossing her arms, she barely resists the urge to fidget. “You didn’t answer my question. Would you have used my card?”

A whistle blows as the next class starts, and Klaus seems to deflate. “I suppose you’ll have to find out.” He drops her a nod with a cocky wink. “Maybe next time, I could convince you to stay in bed.”

He glides backward, turning with a flourish to greet the new group of students, and Caroline can’t help the dumb smile that pulls at her lips. Looking to Nadia, she takes a deep breath to hopefully calm her blush. “You ready?”

They walk out of the rink, Nadia chatting happily as she swung their joined hands between them. Grinning into the sunshine, Caroline was feeling pretty good about her week’s prospects after all.

#klaroline drabbles #klaroline #nemesis729 #to rely on the kindness of strangers #asked and answered #thanks for the prompt!#you're a gem #I hope you like It!#my writing

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annaklover · 4 years

Text

Halloween 5 Minute Writing Prompt:

I was awakened from my slumber by the sound of a car alarm. Seemingly every bloody morning my neighbor from the flat below me hits the panic, not the unlock on his car. You would think my idiot neighbor would know how to unlock his vehicle. My alarm is going off on the side table. I haven't had the luxury of using it since he got his new vehicle. I am already up, and loathing it all. I begrudgingly shut it off and head into the bathroom, and get ready for work. A night full of night terrors, again. I never totally recall them if I'm startled awake. I don't know if I want that insight into my mind anyways. At least I am awake now. I finish my 5-minute meditation and grab for a daily affirmation card. 'Your life is a reflection of your soul, what side of the mirror are you on?' Wow, ground breaking.

My routine is mundane and dare I say, routine. It is the only thing normal to me in my life. I'll turn on the salt lamp to start with a softer light. Ease into whatever the day may bring. Bathroom break, dress, teeth, and initial hair brushing out in the semi darkness. I can see the counter, and the items I need, bit not much else.

My first steps into the bathroom and my slippers are crunching over debris on the darkened floor. I must have got up and slept walk and decided to eat crisps on the bathroom floor, again. I make a mental note to clean it all up before I leave for work. No wonder I'm single. Who wants a sleep walking/eating banshee as even a roommate, much less a mate. And that's just the quirkiness of night.

Slowly bringing myself around to that 'first day of the rest of my life' crap my cards keep telling me about. Those cards are always the same mushy positive crap day in and day out. But, I've done them daily for 13 years now. My mind goes from the trauma that triggered my use of the cards, to the flashes from my dreams. Are they connected? I'm sure somewhere deeply inside my grey matter they are. I reflect on what I could remember of dreams, it's not much, as I'm pulling the brush through the thick curls. I shouldn't have brushed it last night. I was too exhausted to attempt it last night. Come to think of it, I didn't take remove my eye make-up either, so I probably look extra rolled up and put away wet. I'm not going over, but it sure feels like it, and everything hurts. Reality was going to be rough today. It feels like it's been Tuesday for a lifetime.

It was time to face the music, and see how much work it was going to take to give me the appearance of a functional being. I reach with my right hand to flick on the overhead lights. My face automatically raises up towards where the lights are. I am instantly blinded. Hands slamming into the counter to steady myself and fighting back a headache of the bright light. As my eyes slam shut, I'm bombarded with noises from the bustling city below. When will I learn not to repeat the same things every morning?

I'm looking down at the counter, letting my eyes adjust. It's a daily struggle. My fingers finally come into focus. The noises and voices from below fade into the background once more. I note the slight bluish-purple of my nail bed. I should at least put forth the effort and polish them. It would cover that up. Anything to draw attention away from the not normal of myself.

I glance up. My hair looks like every electrocuted cartoon, ever. Time to get serious with it. I start pulling products from the drawers to tame this mess. I don't want to heat treat it. Mornings, and hot things near my face bring flashes of last night's dreams to the forefront of my brain. As fast as it was there, it's gone. I hate my brain. I shake away the remaining cobwebs. As I to see if there is progress, my reflection smirking back in the mirror. Why? It's not humorous at all. I don't feel the smirk on my own face. My face morphs to disgust my body conveys as I begin to reach for the flat iron.

I can see in the mirror as I reach I dribbled toothpaste on my shirt again. Damn. I look down, don't see it. Grabbing all over where I swore I just saw it. I'm probably seeing things, it was a rough night. I'm not losing my mind. I look back to the mirror to see if I can locate it there, and I'm looking at myself, nothing is there. I run my hands over my face and pray silently I'm not going crazy, I'm already partially numb to the thought.

Reaching over to the now hot iron, I see my reflection head cocked, and smirking again. Not reaching at all! I was almost fine and willing to brush it off, until I am watching what I thought was my reflection, blink. Suddenly, everything is dark, I hear glass clinking to the countertop and finally to the floor.

I was awakened from my slumber by the sound of a car alarm...

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