#OKAY dinner is sorted and body freshly showered and drying

[chiropterx]

Muse vs Mun ♡

Tagged byStolen from;; @ratwhsprs Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this?

[after-witch]

White Room White Walls [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: White Room White Walls [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s going to come back soon. When he does, you’ll be waiting. 

Prompt: Overhaul + “No live organism can continue for long to exist under conditions of absolute reality.”

Word Count: 1939

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, starvation/malnutrition, implied character death

He’s going to come back soon. When he does, you’ll be waiting.

Waiting for what is a little difficult to decide. Waiting for his praise? Waiting for his attention? Waiting for his mere presence, something to break up the monotony of the days that you’ve been in this room, all alone?

Four walls, all white. Decorated with a few hard-earned personal touches, tiny pops of color that make you far more grateful than you’d ever imagined they could. Your bathroom is adjacent, thank goodness, but quite sterile; he didn’t want bacteria building up on the pictures you’d asked to hang up against the white walls.

Every morning starts the same: you wake up to the sound of your alarm, you make your bed as neatly as possible before showering and changing into something clean.

It’s very important to be clean. Overhaul told you so.

Though, it’s a shame your room doesn’t have laundry facilities; after a while, with no clean clothes left in your drawers, you realized that you had to wash them by hand. Then you threw them over the curtain rod in the bathroom to drip dry. Some of them smell a bit mildewy now, but it’s nothing that another rub-down with your scented strawberry shampoo can’t cover up, right?

After you’re clean, you can officially start the day. Your schedule is blocked into exercises for your body and mind. Reading time and puzzle time and journaling. When Kai gets back, he’ll probably want to read your journal, so you keep it up even though there’s not much to say anymore. You’re running low on books, but it’s all right; you limit yourself to a chapter a day to stretch them out and, in any case, when he comes back he’ll surely agree to buy you new ones.

He has been gone longer than he originally said he would be, but you try not to mind. You try not to let it wheedle at you. He is so busy, after all. And he’s trusting you to take care of yourself while he’s gone. You don’t want to disappoint him.

In addition to schedule blocks for entertainment, you’re expected to keep up your health. This means eating and exercises on time, every day, and getting to bed early.

It used to feel good to exercise, but lately all it does is make you feel dizzy. Probably the stale air, you think, when you’re bracing your hands on your bed and waiting for the wooziness to pass. Once, you thought about skipping your exercises, thought that maybe it would be better not to use up the extra energy, considering--but the thought was quickly smoothed over when you remembered that he expected you to do it and you’d better stick to the schedule he laid out for you.

Besides, he was coming back soon, and you’d be able to ask him about the dizziness. Maybe he’d know what was going on. He liked to give you check-ups, even though you once insisted that he wasn’t a doctor, you learned to let him touch and poke and record numbers in the chart pinned to his clipboard without a fuss.

You hope he’ll give you a check-up when he gets back, because you just aren’t feeling like yourself lately.

It’s not his first trip away from you. It’s not the first time he sat you down and told you in his patronizing way that he was going away for a while, that you needed to be good until he got back.

But it is the first time you were given so much responsibility all for yourself. Before, there was always someone else who came in to bring you food and take your laundry and anything else you needed.

But this time, no one showed up the next morning. He told you someone was coming, but they didn’t.

It took you a while to realize that it was clearly a test. Kai wanted to know how well you could take care of yourself, how well you could follow routine, without him there to hover over you for most of the day.

If you want to pass, you need to keep going. Stick to the schedule. Stick to his expectations and everything will be fine.

Today, your alarm didn’t go off. The batteries must finally be dead. But it’s okay, you woke up at just the right time, anyway. Old habits and all.

You grab one of the least mildewy day dresses from your drawer and head into the bathroom.

The mirror in the bathroom is all white, muddy-streaked with soap so you can’t actually see yourself. The sight is startling, but only for a moment. Silly you. You must have forgotten to rinse it off with water while you were cleaning it, that’s all. But the thought of wetting down a rag and wiping it away makes your stomach clench--it always feel clenched, lately, tight and hurting--so you walk by the mirror and prepare to step into the bath instead.

The shower is cold. But you like cold showers. They’re the only kind you’ve had for quite some time. It’s another thing you’ve added to your list, to tell Kai when he gets back--hot water’s broken.

You have to remember not to make it sound like you’re complaining, though. You don’t want to seem ungrateful. Especially now that you realize just how much he does for you. You understand now what he meant when he called you ‘spoiled,’ the last time you acted out. You were spoiled. Now you know how hard it is to be without Kai, to be without his direction and guidance and overbearing need to keep you going.

But it’s not all bad. You still have your favorite shampoo. It’s been watered down a few times now, but there’s no more left in the cupboard and you have to make do. You’re resourceful; another way for Kai to test you, right? To see how you can keep yourself clean without all the pampering.

Besides, in a way, you like it watered down: you’ve noticed less of your hair on the bottom of the tub now that you’re not lazily rubbing thick gobs of strawberry shampoo into your hair every day. It doesn’t seem to stop the hair from lining your brush after you comb it dry, but that’s fine, you’ll take the little victory.

For a moment as you scrub yourself with your thinned bar of scented soap, you think too much about your body. About how strange it looks as you scrub your skin red. Certain parts are just too pointy now, hollow even. Like your stomach and the space between your hips and--you toss the soap back in the little dish and let the cold water run over you. You think about how you get dizzy when you sit up too fast or do your exercise or sometimes for no reason at all.

Then you remind yourself to stop thinking about those things.

Best not to think about silly things like that at all. Best to just get clean and get on with your day. When Kai gets back, he’ll figure out what’s going on with your body. Probably a cold or a flu or something. Or maybe your vision is a bit wonky, and that’s what you’re seeing when you glance over your stomach, your hips--maybe your depth perception is off and you need glasses. Kai will know.

After dressing, it’s breakfast time, so you pad back into the bathroom with your water cup and fill up the glass as fully as possible.

Gingerly, you carry the full glass back to your table and sit down. You glance at the clock and wait for it to get to just the right time before you take your first sip.

Water from the tap is cold but refreshing. You have water for breakfast and water for lunch and water for dinner. Sometimes, you mix in paper from one of your journal pages and stir it around the glass with your finger. It’s mushy and pulpy but paper is tree bark, isn’t it? And tree barks have some sort of nutrients, you think, so you’re doing the best you can to stick to your schedule--three healthy meals a day--with what you have.

Will Kai be mad that you’re drinking paper smoothies instead of normal meals? He’ll understand that you couldn’t exactly get a fork or spoon from thin air. He’ll understand that he forgot to put food in your room for your test, so you had to make do.

When he comes back, you’ll just have to explain that you didn’t have any other options.

Though, you confess… you are eating much quicker than the designated blocks for meal-times that he generously created for you. It’s not that you want to deviate from the schedule. But eating too slowly makes you miss the meals you used to have, mounds of steamed vegetables and freshly cooked fish and so many things that get your mouth watering and your stomach growling. It makes you worried that you’ll spend another night in the bathroom, stomach cramped and pain, crying out into your hands, begging for the pain to stop.

You won’t tell him about these things when he returns, except maybe the bathroom stuff, because you would like for something--a pill or special diet or treatment--to make that go away. You wish knew what was causing it. But that’s why Kai’s the expert and you’re just you.

So you sip quickly and grab a book from the shelf as soon as you’re done, and curl up on your bed to start reading today’s chapter. If you focus hard enough on the story, you can forget a lot of things.

You can forget that you’re so, so hungry. You can forget that it’s been days and days and days and he still hasn’t come back, even though he promised he would. You can forget that one of the light bulbs in your ceiling went out a week ago, and one day they’ll all go out and you’ll be here in the dark. You can forget the deep, deep fear that one day you will turn on the bathroom faucet and nothing will come out.

If you try hard enough, you can forget all of that. And when reading time is over, and your bleary eyes glance at the wall, you can focus on the next thing to help you forget: journaling.

You sit up, slowly, carefully, to avoid feeling too dizzy. But instead of grabbing your journal from the shelf, you make your way to your bed and pull back the warm, slightly musty covers.

The strap of your gown falls down your shoulders as you go to lay down. They keep doing that, lately. You had to stop wearing pants altogether, because they just wouldn’t stay up. You like the billowy gowns more and more, because they cover up all the parts of your body that make you uncomfortable, lately. You feel okay when you wear them. Just as long as you don’t look down in the ever-widening gaps created by the loose fabric on your chest.

It’s true that there are no naps on your schedule, and Kai might not like you inserting your own decisions into the fray. But you’re just so tired lately. 

Wouldn’t it be okay if you napped, just sometimes? You’ll write in your journal tomorrow. You’ll confess that you eat too fast and you worry too much and that you hope Kai will come home soon, because this test he’s putting you through is confusing and hard and you might be losing. 

You feel dizzy again. Must be the air. Or maybe the book was too exciting. It’s just too hard to figure out. 

He’s going to come back soon. If he does, you’ll be waiting.

[dumbikawa]

Taking Care of the HQ Boys

GN!Reader | Fluff | Warnings: None

Characters: Suna, Kuroo, Iwaizumi

A/n: I’m such a simp for these boys it’s insane

SUNA

It took Suna a while to get used to the way you never held back when it came to taking care of him. One night, after a particularly rough practice, he’d sluggishly entered the apartment and practically collapsed on top of where you were laying on the couch. Wordlessly, you positioned yourself so that he was resting on your lap with both his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. It was comfortably silent as you ran your fingers through his hair that was still slightly damp from showering at the gym and in no time at all he was softly snoring.

He'd never admit it aloud, but he loved when you took care of him in little ways like that. From the start, he had always insisted on being the big spoon, obsessed with the way your body perfectly molded against his and the satisfaction of knowing you felt safe in his arms. Ever since that night, though, it became a regular thing for you to see him standing, looking at you like a pouty child, from the corner of your eye waiting for you to take the hint that he wanted you to cuddle him. You'd simply open your arms for him to crawl into without even having to look up from your phone.

Today was no exception.

Suna can feel the physical exhaustion down to his bones as he allows the cool water to wash away the sweat and grime he collected over the course of practice. Mentally he feels the same; completely drained in every sense of the word. He can’t even find the energy to thoroughly dry his hair, opting to quickly rub it with a towel before making his way to the bedroom and collapsing on the bed.

“Rin!” you gently scold, placing the book you’d been reading beside you on the bed. “You’re going to ruin your pillow.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, eyes remaining shut as he lets out a content sigh. He did care, actually, but his decision was already made and now that he was in bed there was no way he was getting up. He truly meant that, but when he feels you tugging at his hand for him to get up he begrudgingly obliges.

You’re holding your hair dryer and gesturing for him to sit on the floor. It doesn’t seem wise to disobey when you look so determined, so he slides off the bed, giving you full access to his sopping mess of hair.

His eyes flutter closed as the warmth from the hairdryer and the way your fingers are skillfully brushing through his hair begins to pull him towards sleep. Not to mention, in this position he has the perfect opportunity to use your thigh as a pillow and he makes a mental note to have you dry his hair more often. But, sadly, the flow of warm air shuts off and your voice pulls him back to the present.

“C’mon you big baby,” you laugh, watching him groan and throw himself back up on the bed. He shimmies under the covers, but refuses to place his head back on the damp pillow. Instead, he stares at you with sleepy eyes until you’ve positioned yourself so that you can sit comfortably and open your arms for him.

His arms automatically snake around your waist as he buries his head in your side.

“Do I do enough to take care of you?” he asks softly, turning to look up at you with a vulnerability that he doesn't often display so openly.

“Of course, Rin,” you hum, tracing your fingers down his exposed back. He still seems unsure as he pushes his face against your shirt, but his shoulders relax slightly. “I mean it. I like taking care of you, okay? There’s nothing to repay if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Your reassurance falls on deaf ears, though, as you feel his breathing even out and his grip on you loosening.

“I love you, baby,” you whisper, grabbing your book from where you’d set it earlier and relishing in the quiet as you continued to absentmindedly draw designs against Suna's warm skin. 

KUROO

Kuroo closes the apartment door quietly, finally letting his shoulders droop with exhaustion now that he's inside. He slips his bag noiselessly onto the ground and flicks his watch up to check the time. It was well past midnight by the time he actually clocked out of work and, although he wants nothing more than a dual welcome home/goodnight kiss from you, he hopes you’re sound asleep by now.

However, much to his surprise, you’re curled up on the couch with a book and a warm cup of tea, so enthralled in whatever you’re reading that you don't hear him approach. There’s a strong possibility you aren’t even aware of what time it is, completely lost in another world. He tests this theory by walking behind the couch and wrapping his arms around you, chuckling at the way you jump at the sudden contact.

“Welcome home!” you beam once you recover from the small scare. You press a quick kiss to his upturned lips before he walks around to the front so that he can relieve a proper hug.

“Thank you, babe,” he murmurs against your lips, not wanting to pull away from your warmth just yet. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I wanted to wait for you and then I got to this really good part in my book and just...lost track of what time it was.” The way your eyes light up sends a wave of admiration shooting straight through Kuroo’s heart. “How was work? Why did you have to stay so late?”

Kuroo begins walking you through his hectic day, quickly turning the discussion into an irritated rant about having to fix other people’s mistakes and figuring out schedules for upcoming projects. You listen thoughtfully as you migrate towards the kitchen, your boyfriend trailing closely behind.

Soon, there was a cup of hot tea in his hands and the two of you are positioned on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap as he gently massages your calves.

Your eyes never leave his as he talks, nodding along and asking questions every now and then. He didn’t need nor want any sort of advice or words of wisdom. Simply having you listen to him was enough to have him feeling ten times lighter by the time he reached the bottom of his cup.

“Do you want more?” you ask, beginning to stand up. Kuroo doesn’t answer, instead leaning forward and hooking his arm around your waist so that you fall back into his arms.

“More of you, yes,” he says, smiling into your hair. He can practically feel the way your eyes roll as you let out an exasperated groan at his cheesy comment, but the hint of a blush making its way to your cheeks betrays you.

You make the first move to get up, offering a hand out to him. His hand engulfs yours as you pull him towards the bedroom. The bed has new sheets and the laundry is sitting in a basket freshly washed and ready to be folded. A wave of guilt crashes into him, knowing that you also worked today and must’ve come home afterwards and cleaned up.

“Baby, you should’ve gotten some rest,” Kuroo sighs, gesturing to the laundry and neatly made  bed. "I'm certain it was my turn to do the laundry.”

“Yeah, but when you told me you had to work late I figured I’d knock out some chores since I had the time. It’s not like it’s a big deal, Tetsu.” 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The words have barely left his lips before he's throwing the covers over the two of you and shutting off the lights. His arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you close to him, relishing in your small giggles. It doesn't take long for you to drift to sleep while Kuroo places soft kisses against your exposed shoulders. He soon follows, matching his breathing with yours and immediately winding down, but until his brain finally shuts off from exhaustion he's thinking of all the ways he's going to show you just how much he appreciates everything you do.

IWAIZUMI

Iwaizumi watches as you begin cooking dinner for the two of you as a quiet pop song plays off your phone. His work day was less than stellar, to put it simply, but watching you dance around the kitchen has already earned the frown from his face and has him smiling like a damn fool.

“Haji!” you exclaim, suddenly noticing the lurking figure from the corner of your eye. He steps out from his hiding place, an amused yet sheepish look on his face as he notices your flustered expression. “Why were you just standing there? Come here and give me a kiss, idiot.” He raises his hands in surrender as he does what you say, letting his lips linger on yours for a moment longer than usual and wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Hey, doll,” he murmurs against your skin, resting his face into the crook of your neck. You pull back slightly, ignoring his childlike protests as you do so.

“Are you okay?” you question, eyeing him up and down. Iwaizumi is sure he could get lost in your beautiful eyes that are currently filled with concern. You know him too well, he thinks, as you give him a knowing look. It was still difficult for him to open up about things, especially small things that had bothered him throughout the day. There wasn't a real reason to talk about all the irritating parts of the day because he knows he can handle them himself, or so he claims.

“Y/n, it’s nothing,” he reassures, kissing your nose in an attempt to further prove he’s not bothered. “It was just a very long day, but now I’m back here with you and I couldn’t be happier.” His smooth talking makes it impossible for you to stay mad, but you surely try.

“Alright, well, you know you can talk about it even if it’s ‘nothing.’ In the meantime, stay here and watch the food for a moment while I run you a bath.” Iwaizumi is quick to object, but you’ve already sauntered out of the room and he can hear the faint sound of running water.

It truly did feel nice to be taken care of, he thinks fleetingly as he sinks into the warm water, but it's difficult for him to fully relax when he can hear you bustling around the kitchen. He waits in the bath for a little longer so that you won't bite his head off for how quick he was before changing  into a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable shirt. The sounds of you beginning to set the table echoes down the hallway and he finds himself hoping you'll at least let him help with that.

“You lasted longer in there than I thought," you tease as your boyfriend appears back at your side. "Now go sit down." He opens his mouth to argue, but one look and he finds himself moving towards the table, wondering why you were so intent on doing everything.

“At least let me do the dishes,” he practically pleads, watching you with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude as you bring the warm food over to the table.

“Or, hear me out, we leave the dishes to deal with tomorrow and spend the rest of the night watching movies cuddled up on the couch." He narrows his eyes as he searches through his brain, trying to remember if he'd forgotten an anniversary or birthday because he surely didn't feel as if he deserved this.

As if reading his mind once again you reach out and hold his hand, gently rubbing your thumb in circles against his skin.

"Can't you just let me take care of you? You're constantly going above and beyond for me, so I just thought I'd try and return the favor." Iwaizumi feels his face heat up as you place a kiss against his knuckles like he always does to you. It did feel nice, but he enjoys taking care of you. He never even thinks twice about it. 

"Alright, alright. In that case, you can do the dishes tonight and maybe also get some desert." He can feel your eyes boring into him as if to say, 'Don't push it.' A smile breaks out on his face as he begins digging into the meal you prepared, peppering you with compliments until his plate is clean.

[rebelliouslala]

A Man Who Plays Volleyball.

happy birthday my beloved little anime boy, Ushijima Wakatoshi!

summary and warnings!: OC!Yuri-Chan (they are there as you, the reader!) x Wakatoshi, fix it fic! Shiratorizawa wins to go to the Nationals; angst, descriptions of parental abuse, descriptions of anxiety, flashbacks, a form of s/lf h/rm, accidental cause to injury, unwanted touching, a creepy guy, divorce drama, this story describes the suppression of men’s mental health, a good spoonful of fluff at the end

word count; ~10k words

a/n: this was SUPER rushed. but, i love him. you have no idea how much i saw myself in satori. in wakatoshi. i love shiratorizawa. may this alternate universe make the original ushijima wakatoshi smile :)

The Shiratorizawa volleyball player, Ushijima Wakatoshi walked home. He carried his volleyball clothes in a duffel bag. He wore a white hoodie with a purple outline. It said, printed, “Ushijima #1” on the back. He walked in silence. Because he preferred it. He felt tired.

The Miracle Boy felt tired. The crickets in the warm farm fields began to buzz with the swift wind that came from behind. He closed his eyes and stopped. He softly smiled as he looked up at the cloudy autumn sky. The sun was setting.

How long has he waited for this day; His eyes, to anyone else, would be dull. But that day, after his battle against Karasuno, they sparkled like freshly oiled olives. His hairdo was gently ruffled as a train passed by to his left, and he took a deep breath. He pumped his fist as a tear went down his cheek.

“I won.”

Once the Miracle Boy arrived home; He placed away his uniform in a laundry machine, and gently sucked on a popsicle. He blinked a few times, watching the machine churn and churn and churn and churn and churn and churn and- His lower back ached. He leaned against the wall, continuing to gently bite the tip. Satori once called him insane for biting ice cream.

“Doesn’t it hurt?!” Satori cried during their summer training. Wakatoshi had offered his land to use for training. Coach Washijo had taken the offer with happiness. He had bit his thick popsicle in response. “No.”

Wakatoshi turned to a sob from the threshold. There sat on its diaper ass one of the Ushijima twins, Kazane, who blinked. She had a straight bob and palm green eyes. She whined.

The boy sighed. He gently bent down and picked her up. She babbled stupidly and gripped at his hair, then whined more for his popsicle. “No.” He continued to bite it and he frowned as Kazane started to whimper. Wakatoshi now began to bounce her and he looked at his uniform as it continued to wash. She stopped making noises and instead clung onto him.

“Wakatoshi? Wakatoshi have you seen—?” He let his mother find him as she sighed. She had straight black hair, one that was in a messy bun since she gave birth to the twins.

“Hello Oka-san.”

“Wakatoshi, you know she can’t have ice cream!” She said, exasperated.

“I know that. She is trying to take it.” He continued biting it.

“Here, gimme,” Ms. Ushijima took Kazane, and let her soft cry in her neck. Wakatoshi simply continued to look at the swirl of his clothes. “I called your father.”

Wakatoshi turned, and he blinked. Once. Twice. His eyebrows furrowed, but he straightened himself up. “Is he not busy?”

“Yeah, but you know, it’s nice because you‘re going to Nationals-, isn’t that what you wanted, Wakatoshi?”

The boy sucked on the stick as the machine stopped. He went down to take the uniform, and began to fold. “Yes.”

She sighed, “Stop acting dramatic. I know you’re happy. Oh- I also invited your girlfriend over.” Wakatoshi now walked past his mother, and his baby sister as he went to his room. He hung his shirt and pants. Ms. Ushijima followed him, “I suggest you wear some nice formal wear, got it? And I want you both in the family room.”

“I was thinking of a nice berry bush, a purely platonic meeting. In the back—?”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. Sure. Remember to change Mayumi’s diapers.”

Yuri had met Wakatoshi at the side door of his house. Yuri hopped up and gave him a kiss to his jawline. “Good afternoon, ‘Toshi-Chan!”

Wakatoshi blushed. He held his cheek. “Afternoon, my flower.”

The wind that messed up Yuri’s hair passed, and Wakatoshi with no hesitation helped them fix it, after a soft question if he could. He gently petted their hair back.

The couple sat peacefully in the bushes. Yuri, after the wind, then went to the strawberry bushes and started to pick. They hummed as they put them in a small bucket, as Wakatoshi instructed them to, and rinsed them in a bucket his Grandfather made. After that, they handed the small fat berry to his hand, as he cut off the top part of the berry.

“The leaves are edible, but are annoying to the throat. It’s better to mush them together, since they have good properties for the body.” Wakatoshi explained. Yuri giggled in response, continuing to pick a few more, with a here and there bite to the smallest one.

Yuri might even turn around, and coo, “Look at this, ‘Toshi-Chan! Aw, it’s no bigger than my thumb!” At which Wakatoshi leaned over, uncomfortably on the small blanket his Mother gave him, before nodding. “Do you want to name it? Like a child?”

“Oh great idea! How about, hmm, Plate!”

“Hm?”

“Because strawberries, and plate berries!”

“Ah.” Wakatoshi nodded, and he gave them a small side of the mushed leaves. “This should be enough for both of us. Do you think so?”

“Mhm! Oh, how are the twins?”

Wakatoshi leaned back and took a deep breath. Kazane cried so much he had to wake up Grandmother Nijiko for it. She complained loudly, but went over and in a few hours the silence was gone. Mayumi singlehandedly ate the rest of the prepared milk bottles his Mother made. Wakatoshi lost approximately 3.26 hours of sleep. “They are well.” He said.

“Oh! They’re the cutest!! With their little soft lettuce cheeks-! I can’t wait until I can feed them little berries!” Yuri popped one in their mouth.

“Mayumi-tan loves blueberries. Especially playing with them. Kazane-tan prefers spitting the strawberry seeds in my hair.”

“No wonder you take so many showers, Wakatoshi-Chan!” He ate a bit of the mush, and he looked above at the clouds. Yuri laid next to him, and dipped their finger in the mush.

“Satori-kun told me- you- uh, you got mad. I was wondering where you were after the game.”

“We had to celebrate. Besides that, I could not charge my phone. The TV crew took up all the outlets.”

“Aw, bummer! But still, Wakatoshi-Chan~,” Yuri poked his side. He twitched in response. “You got mad. It was a close game.”

Wakatoshi ate another strawberry dipped in mush. “I won. Do not worry. I am okay.” Yuri laid on their stomach and pouted. “Promise?”

“I would never lie to you, Yuri-Chan.”

“Good. Then critique me on my violin, okay!”

He nodded, as Yuri brought out their violin case. Being best friends with Satori, all sorts of little stickers were on it, especially a large Pokémon one. Wakatoshi crossed his legs as Yuri took their violin out, and their bow. They hummed quietly, tuning the violin and hastily rubbing rosin on the bow. They used the bow on the violin, once- twice -the first made Wakatoshi fear the twins would wake up from their nap- before Yuri played.

The Swan.

Wakatoshi laid back. Yuri closed their eyes, leaning into their instrument, and played. The wind picked up again. And Wakatoshi closed his eyes.

Yuri and he met in freshman year. Wakatoshi saw Yuri come in, shy.

“I am so sorry! I thought this was the auditorium.” Wakatoshi had just worked out. He assumed in their vision, this would be attractive and more romantic. To him he felt more comfortable and relaxed.

“It’s a few more blocks down. But I believe the Coach will not allow music.” Seeing Yuri’s jolt of embarrassment, Wakatoshi added, “But I believe outside is a perfect place to play. I would help you, but I know the plants shall tell you what to do.”

And here, as the wind guided Yuri’s fingers, their bow, the soft and intimate touches to the strings, did Wakatoshi hear how his advice had really counted. From Day 1 to Day Now, their improvement let him smile quietly in pride. They were perfect.

After a few days of waiting for a response from Wakatoshi’s father, it was settled and official. He would join them that night for dinner.

Yuri held onto Wakatoshi’s arm, their middle finger writing characters he could not decipher. He looked around at Grandmother Nijiko holding the twins. Kazane was in a little blue robe and Mayumi in red. His mother opened the door to the wardrobe for Wakatoshi. He wore a tight white shirt, and black sleek pants. He observed a royal purple kimono.

Yuri gulped as they watched his mother gently pinch his ear, “Nuh uh, do the Atlantic Blue.”

“I believe it is Pacific Blue.” Wakatoshi responded as he took that instead, and dawned it. He helped Yuri with their kimono.

“Wow, your family is like, really traditional, Wakatoshi,” they said quietly, looking at Wakatoshi.

“It’s my father’s arrival. Oka-san likes it like this.” He paused, before he continued to help them put it on, “and Oba-san, of course.”

Wakatoshi could not admit it, but he did appreciate it too. The clan was well, they just valued the importance of continuing to be perfect. It was only in their strict rules he did not want his new siblings to be subjected to. Wakatoshi glanced at his left hand. as he tied Yuri’s pink clothes together.

“‘Toshi, remember to smile.” Ms. Ushijima reminded him.

Wakatoshi grimaced. “Yes Oka-san.”

Yuri squeezed his hand, and looked up at him. He gently smiled back.

“Yuri-kun, make sure Wakatoshi doesn’t go on about volleyball again!” Grandmother Nijiko said. His smile faded.

His mother went from the twins, to going to him and attacking his stance.

Ms. Ushijima went on her tippy toes, muttering and complaining about his height, then how his hair was so dry, how he needed to use lotion more, and how filthy he was.

Yuri only stared at their feet. The Ushijimas stared at Wakatoshi, having his mother flick his ear and pinch at his stomach. “Stop eating so much rice! Obviously this sport isn’t putting off enough weight, eh?”

The doorbell rang. Finally, Wakatoshi took a gulp of fresh air as his mother went to the door.

It opened. Wakatoshi couldn’t stop smiling.

Everything seemed to blur and fade into each other. Wakatoshi took his coat. Yuri was taken away. The twins began to cry and whine for food. Ms. Ushijima said nothing.

The dining room in the Ushijima home was tiny. The dinner table was small, made of driftwood from Wakatoshi’s great grandfather. The clinking of dishes were mixed in with the twins crying. Yuri sat uncomfortably. Wakatoshi only ate as he looked at his father.

Mr. Utsui Takashi barely had hair- he was balding. He had a curly like stubble though, and he had developed an annoying, wheezing-like cough after inhaling any sort of food. It seemed his vision got worse, since he had thought the twins were identical. He had to take a double take to Yuri and Wakatoshi before laughing and embracing him tightly. His hands were disgusting. He smelled of fish and B.O.

But Wakatoshi put his face in his neck, and embraced him thrice as tightly once he had seen him minutes ago. Wakatoshi nearly lifted his father from the ground. Now, as Wakatoshi picked at his small serving of possibly 382 pieces of rice and steak, he watched his father talk to Yuri.

“Ah, Wakatoshi, she is so cute! Ooh~,” he pinched Yuri’s cheek who giggled and thanked him, a little awkward. Wakatoshi ate his steak, a little curve on his lips from their interaction.

“Utsui-san, I am so excited! I cannot believe you came all this way, because ‘Toshi-chan is going to nationals!” Yuri smiled.

Wakatoshi’s grandmother stopped feeding the twins and sighed. “It’s not why he came.”

The young man felt the steak he swallowed start to froth in his mouth. He forced it down, and turned to his father. “What is the news that you have?”

“I got fired from my job.” Mr. Utsui said, a little weak. “Well, they laid us off—,”

Ms. Ushijima stood up and gathered the plates. “Your father is coming back to live with us until he finds something good. Hopefully in Tokyo so he can move out again.”

“Y-yes...” Mr. Utsui slouched, but he continued to eat his rice.

Wakatoshi ate his steak, and he quietly let his mother take it as he looked at Yuri’s hand. “Will you be taking care of the twins, then?” he said.

Mr. Utsui opened his mouth, a little confused, but he only sighed, “Ah- well yes. I will. I am also discussing that matter with your mother.”

“Do you need to go to court for it?” Wakatoshi continued to sit as Yuri held onto him, adjusting their feet from the long period of sitting on them.

“No, Oba-san will handle the matters.”

Wakatoshi nodded, and quietly asked his grandmother to be excused. Once she nodded, she eyed his left hand as he helped Yuri up.

“Your lover cannot go. I need to ask them some things as well.”

“Oba-san.” Wakatoshi bowed his head, “they need to stretch out their feet.”

“I don’t care. Sit by me, Yuri-tan.” Yuri looked back, and shooed Wakatoshi off. He bowed, only slightly, before sliding open the doors, and going outside.

The Ushijima Land stretched for only a couple of square acres. Wakatoshi sat down awkwardly by the lake.

It was technically a marsh but his mother never liked him calling it that. He fondly remembered how he invited his team here to train. Goshiki nearly passed out in the fields further West, if Grandmother Nijiko had not taken care of him. Wakatoshi smiled remembering how she pinched his cheeks and cooed, “Goshiki-Bo.”

“Wakatoshi.” He turned, slightly, and Mr. Utsui sat down next to him with a bit of difficulty. “Ah, what a nice night, hm?” he tried to hide his cough.

“Yes.” the young man said.

Mr. Utsui sighed, tapping his fingers and looking off at the side, towards the stars. “H-How is Shiratorizawa?”

“We won against Karasuno a few days ago. My team and I are going to nationals.”

Mr. Utsui smiled. “Ah, perfect, perfect, good for you. I’m happy that it makes you happy.” Wakatoshi looked down. He did not feel anything. The dream that had woken him up this morning has scared him. He had no idea why. “You trained hard for this, hm?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad my son has come all this way. You’ve gotten so big and strong! Tell me, do the twins bother you? I hope the farm work isn't too much either. But you’re 18 now, and-,”

Wakatoshi stood up. He took a deep breath. He simply took off his kimono.

Mr. Utsui blinked. “‘Toshi?”

“I’m going for a run.” The boy ran without a word to his father. He was glad Mr. Utsui didn’t follow. Because Wakatoshi began to cry.

After a good ten minute run, Wakatoshi took yet another shower once he got back. He now wore his pajamas. A big shirt he had been gifted once from Mr. Utsui, and Pokemon themed pants he got from Satori a year ago.

Wakatoshi went to the entrance of his home, holding Yuri’s hands. It was time to say goodbye to Yuri-Chan. “Your Grandma is so weird.” they giggled, trying to hush their voice. That made no sense to him, really. Grandmother Nijiko heard everything.

“She is my blood. I got it from her.” Yuri giggled and kissed him softly, and he did in return. “You’re so weird~,”

“Yes.” He wanted to go inside already. He needed to think of what the matter was with his father. But he needed to also stall for Yuri to feel safe.

“Heh, okay, tomorrow is my practice.” They pulled him close and cooed, “I’ll see you?”

“Of course.” He stared at their features. He remembered hearing a few opposing volleyball players try to bully Yuri. He made sure they lost within two sets. For Yuri was like a flower to Wakatoshi- they had a timeless beauty. He loved staring at the shape of their eyes, how their nose scrunched ever so slightly when they smiled, and especially, when their irises dilated. He never felt such an intense feeling pull himself toward her.

They hugged him tightly. “Love you, ‘Toshi-Chan.”

“I love you too.”

After another kiss, Yuri-Chan’s aunt pulled up in her car. With another wave, Yuri had disappeared from his grasp. Wakatoshi was all alone.

☆彡

The Last Set. Wakatoshi took his stance as one of the outer blockers. He watched the ball be served by the Karasuno Crows. The Samurai Crow, Asahi, paused before spiking, causing Wakatoshi to miss his timing on the block. On the next turn, when Kenjiro sets, Wakatoshi returns his point as he spikes against the block. In games, he lets Satori do the blocking, since he is better. Wakatoshi is smart, he has no doubt about that in this sport, but he knows his teammate’s instinctual guess is better than anything. When Satori went left, Wakatoshi followed and blocked it correctly. He quietly nodded as Satori beamed with pride.

After another few more scores, Wakatoshi blinked at the sudden point Karasuno took. His eyebrows were raised as he drank his water. He was surprised by the new attack Karasuno made. Never in his years of volleyball research, of play, did he believe it could work against his strong team, or actually score. They were extremely fearless.

Wakatoshi frowned at himself when Reon missed. But now he can make a point to honor him, and also win back the lead. As he spiked, he spotted the little short Libero, the Lightning Bolt Crow Yu. He frowned, and he spiked quickly to his left. It was quick, causing a jolt of pain to his shoulder, but it did the trick for them to get a point.

Despite that, the Blond Crow, Kei, tried to go against him. Which made him annoyed. This tiny blocker, tried to go against his immeasurable strength? Wakatoshi huffed quietly. 

Wakatoshi hated how Kei knew how to one touch, how to time his spikes perfectly. But he didn’t even have the strength like Satori did. He was just a wannabe Satori. And no one is like Satori. And such thoughts, that the young man had, made his strength greater with the stress of the Blond Crow. Kei made a grave mistake. Pissing off the Miracle Boy.

With the next point to be made, and with his new power up that Kei unknowingly gave Wakatoshi, the Miracle Boy then, out of pure anger, made sure he could not play. Using his entire body weight, he made sure that Kei was out. Against Kei’s perfect block, Wakatoshi had spiked so hard to Kei’s right fingers, he heard the crack.

As Wakatoshi landed, he turned away. He had scored. And Kei would be gone.

After Karasuno’s kerfuffle of Kei’s condition, now Wakatoshi could serve. Now that the Blond Crow was gone, just a few more points were made by him and Wakatoshi could see Father.

“Bring it!” Karasuno yelled.

Bring it? Wakatoshi thought. How amusing. He will. He threw the ball up, jumped, and struck it hard. The Samurai Crow hit it in the air, his skin turning red from impact. Typical. Karasuno was playing yet another synchronized attack. But Wakatoshi saw how Satori eyed Sugawara’s shoes, and jumped immediately. The Captain relaxed at seeing Satori’s correct guess, and watched. He watched Satori glare down at the boy, a blush blooming on his pale cheeks. Wakatoshi could not help but smirk to himself as well.

The Eagles were soaring far above the Crows.

The Last Set. Wakatoshi, being a not loud person, clapped for Satori as the rest of his team screamed. Satori’s blocks were always one to be celebrated. His skills were amazing, and were an important asset to the team.

After switching sides, Wakatoshi served. But he can feel himself getting tired, as he jumped he got a blurry vision and hit the ball to the net. He makes a genuine apology, deciding to let his team do some more of the heavy lifting. After all, the Blond Crow was gone.

But seeing the Chibi-Chan, Shoyo Hinata, Wakatoshi stood taller. He scowled at the boy. Kenjiro sensed his anger, and set the ball to the Ace. Now he spiked it down. But no. As if the boy was blessed only with his speed, he saw, in awe, how the boy caught the damn ball with his face. Satori missed his spike, the two comrades tched at the boy. Wakatoshi could feel his and Satori’s hatred at the boy’s talentless smile. Even more so, what made Wakatoshi steam further was that Shoyo still scored points. Not only was he reckless, he always just went for his head. It made the Ace sick to his stomach. Ungrateful runt.

Wakatoshi had not doubted he wouldn’t win, but now he wanted to crush the small boy. He wanted to win just as bad as he did.

After the next loss, due to Satori’s overthinking, Wakatoshi tried not to chuckle at seeing Satori get yelled at by the Coach. Despite the hilarity, now the Captain had to make up for Satori’s lost concentration. Right now he couldn’t depend on him. Right now he needs to win. Even if Satori can’t pick up his slack.

The first years’ reckless quick attack. Wakatoshi hated it. Speed was all he had. Nothing like the great rival Wakatoshi had expected him to be; no, just Stupid, Small, Sly Shoyo.

Wakatoshi can hear Yuri-Chan cheer loudly from the bleachers with his school. He heard his school cheer proudly after Eita’s no touch serve, only to find Karasuno's ridiculous cheering. Now he turned around, to his team, and he furrowed his brows. He looked upon their glistening faces. “We Shall Finish This.” Now all of Shiratorizawa sang aloud. Perfect. A traditional song. A traditional strength of his. He will beat all of Karasuno, if he has to, to the ground.

Wakatoshi watched as Shoyo reflected his spike, and made what should’ve been his point, theirs. He never wanted anything more than to crush Shoyo as he did to Kei. He clenched his fists and turned away.

Goshiki talked. Gushed about the Shrimp. “Can you believe it, Wakatoshi? It’s like his speed can power through your strength!” The Ace said nothing in response.

Stupid Shoyo....he shouldn’t have done that at all.

Goshiki was trying to prove himself, to help Wakatoshi’s previous loss- Wakatoshi felt like he was trying to watch paint dry.

In retaliation, Wakatoshi hit hard against the New Crow despite the Samurai Crow’s time block that he copied from the Blond Crow. But now he felt his arm throb. Store. He would need to wait until he can use all of his strength to beat them. To finish this. But first, Wakatoshi needed to calm himself down.

He needed a replacement.

Wakatoshi turned to the smaller, youngest member. He put his hand on his shoulder, and made strong eye contact. “Goshiki. Do not panic, you have much talent. Let us finish this.”

Wakatoshi moved out of the way, and he caught his breath. Goshiki made a great point. As he planned. As he should. So he can finish beautifully. It was often like the paintings his Uncle Hideaki would make, little colors mixing in, adding up to the pine forests next to the Ushijima Acres. What Goshiki did was pure art. With a serve to get them back in the lead. With Goshiki’s now flared ego, Wakatoshi knew he could lead this. He had successfully stored up enough energy, and calmed himself down- 

A tie.

He noticed Coach staring at him. As Captain, as Ace, as a Volleyball Player. He needed to win for him as well. He lowered his stance. Kenjiro made the set to, The Traditional Wakatoshi, The Traditional Strength, The God, spiked hard to the Libero Crow. The ball flew past.

One More Point. Wakatoshi heard. One More Point. Because they are stronger.

But who came running back? Just as they were winning, for one more point. The Blond Crow had flown back to the game.

The Last Set. 15 Shiratorizawa. 14 Karasuno.

Wakatoshi wanted to crush his dreams, and now his other fingers. Yunohama came in, but Satori read failed on a part of the play against Tobio. Wakatoshi wanted to say something to the Blond Crow. But he realized he did not despise him like Shoyo. Only found him as an obstacle to crush.

Wakatoshi reminded Kenjiro. “Use me mercilessly.” He had enough stamina. He needed to be ready to beat the dreams of these foolish crows. As Reon made the ball go up, Wakatoshi struck Kenjiro’s fake set, right at Kei. He stared him down during their fall. He felt himself puff out his chest. He talked with his glowing eyes, as if saying, I can beat you.

Wakatoshi needed to serve again, but at the stupid Libero. He felt his thighs shake as he readied himself. He leaped up high, and hit the net to fool them.

But it didn’t work.

Satori couldn’t block the return attack. And now Karasuno was in the lead. Despite how hard Wakatoshi used his strength to get through the Blond Crow. During Coach’s timeout, Wakatoshi squeezed the pouches the twins had packed for him. Every game. Every practice. The twins packed him a little juice pouch.

He relaxed. His legs really needed to sit. A lot. Despite how tired he was from that run, he caught his breath. Kenjiro asked if he can still be used. He saw his teammate’s red, exhausted faces. This game was worrying them. Karasuno was in the lead.

Wakatoshi agreed with a warm smile. Because now he can win, with real, strong teamwork. Everyone depended on him. “Use me.”

On the court, the Libero saved it from the Samurai crow’s attack. Meaning he can serve, and he- It didn’t count. He tried to push it far. But his shoulder ached. Stupid Shoyo. Too late. He was too quick. Wakatoshi felt his muscles ache, like quiet screams.

This time, he spiked inside. Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi was breathing heavily. But, he looked up, and grunted out of happiness. Stupid Shoyo!! He thought to himself.

Reon served. But, Shoyo made the next point.

Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi smiled though, when Shoyo tried to quick attack, and Satori blocked it. But he didn’t grimace out of disappointment. He only kept thinking.

Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi watched the ball on the next attack. He watched Hinata not jump. His legs froze. Stupid Shoyo. He congratulated Goshiki on the new point, with a nod as he went to the net.

He watched the ball slowly fall as a new play began. Another point-

The Libero. Wakatoshi felt the ball slip through his block. He hated the feeling as he grimaced at the passing and quick sting to his pinky. Wakatoshi stood and watched the Blond Crow figure out their attacks, he couldn’t help but now feel the same sense of annoyance as with Shoyo. He needed to truly show them who was going to win.

The Last Set. Hinata served. They do a minus tempo back attack. Shoyo spiked at Taichi. When he failed, Wakatoshi picked it up and yelled at his server. It’s time. Merciless Attack.

He wanted to hit. He wanted to hit Stupid Shoyo’s face so hard. Kenjiro noted Wakatoshi’s burning fury. Goshiki whimpered under his breath as he ran. But Wakatoshi flew up, and he spiked it to three blockers. But he spiked it right at their setter.

No point. The ball went up.

His nose flared, and he grunted underneath his breath.

Those crows.

Those.

Those damn crows.

THOSE BASTARD CROWS DARED DEFY HIM. HE HAD NEVER FELT SUCH HEAT IN HIS BODY; AS IF LAVA HAD BEEN SPURTING OUT OF HIM IN RAGE. SUCH ANGER INSIDE HIM AS HE SAW THE KARASUNO CROWS WEAKLY FIGHT; SUCH ANGER INSIDE HIM AS HE SAW THE KARASUNO WEAKLY TRY AND CONTINUE TO FIGHT AGAINST HIS STRENGTH. HE WAS PINNING THEM DOWN.

THE BALD CROW PICKED IT UP. CHANCE BALL.

WAKATOSHI COULDN’T STOP. HE NEEDED TO FIGHT.

STUPID SHOYO NEEDED TO LOSE!

This time, Shoyo flew up in the all out quick attack. Wakatoshi saw the ball. Where it went. Down. On his side. He felt his throat being choked, by someone.

Beneath him.

Wakatoshi saw it. He shook Shoyo’s hand and walked away. His face was grim. He saw Coach;s face staring at Shoyo. He noted how Satori was painted, with a tear falling down his face. How Goshiki sobbed. Reon staring at his hand. The Libero panting, his face a bright red.

Wakatoshi heard it. A flat thanks. No one spoke. Except the single mutter, “I thought we couldn’t lose.”

Wakatoshi smelled the salt, he saw the youngest shake and cry, hugging his broad body. A single, disappointed turn from the Coach. A flat, “hit 100 serves when we get back.”

“Wakatoshi, didn’t you get mad?” Satori asked.

Wakatoshi felt his body relax. His inner thigh was being stretched out. He paused. “I wanted to say I am stronger than them. Isn’t that childish? I wanted to say it.”

“Childish reasons are what drives us. What a great game.” A pause. “I’m quitting volleyball. I’m going to watch you on TV and brag about how we were best friends.” Satori giggled. “It’ll be fun to be interviewed about you when you get big and famous!”

21 Karasuno. 19 Shiratorizawa.

He turned away to the bright smiles of the first year duo. The Great Eagles had lost their feathers.

Wakatoshi woke up with a gasp as he held his throat. He panted, beads of sweat dripping down his bare chest. He groaned quietly, and he held his head.

It was a dream. A Dream.

Stupid Shoyo...he had invaded his dreams. And Wakatoshi looked at his left hand. He held the trophy.

He had held the trophy. Not the Karasuno Crows. He did. He touched it. And no one else could ever take that feeling away from him.

Wakatoshi turned on the bath again in his personal restroom, and got in. He sat in complete silence, and he filled the bucket with water. He dumped it upon himself. It was cold. He let his body shiver. He let himself sink as he weakly washed himself.

He heard his dad snore a few rooms down. But the worst thing that Wakatoshi did that night was cry.

☆彡

Wakatoshi knocked on the door to Coach Washijo’s room. “Wakatoshi-kun, come in.”

The boy walked inside, and blinked softly. He wore his school uniform, freshly ironed. “Coach Washijo. May I sit down?”

“Of course.” Wakatoshi pulled out the chair, and sat, he looked at his feet. Coach Washijo sighed, and he looked to the windows. “You know it, hm?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “We do not deserve this trophy.”

“I am already surprised you finished your punishment. I am extremely disappointed by the fact you brought the Chibi-Chan on our school grounds before. And for the game itself, Captain.”

Wakatoshi moved the chairs aside and he got on his knees, bowing his head. “I do not deserve the title as Captain.”

“Neither does anyone else on the team, son. But, I was the one who called you in here,” Coach Washijo went to him, and tapped his back. Wakatoshi slowly got up, and looked down. “I am proud. Don’t tell the others this, Wakatoshi-kun. That was a close game. I need you to practice with everyone. Get everyone ready for the Nationals. You deserve it.”

Wakatoshi bowed. “Thank you, Coach.”

As he left, his mind became fogged. How, how could he have even let himself be seen like that? Coach knew. Coach and he are the only ones, only ones who know the Karasunos were so, so so close to becoming the winners.

So.

Close.

Wakatoshi turned to the restroom quickly, and he began to breathe heavily. He loosened his tie as he stared into the sink. That close. Two points away from his dreams, his father, everything he had known into the sink, washed away because of Shoyo. 

“STUPID SHOYO!”

With the force of thunder, he punched the mirror. He panted, and looked at his reflection. The mirror didn’t shatter. The boy sighed as he turned on the sink, and washed his face. He rinsed it, as the water turned hot. Hot. Hot. Hot-

He held onto the sink, gasping for air. He remembered it. He remembered his mother scrubbing him fiercely with a wood scrubber. “Wakatoshi you need to start scrubbing!” She picked at his hair. “You need to start getting off those dead skin cells!” She ripped off anything that came off him. “Or else no one will like you! You wanna end up like your Dad? I married him out of pity! He was supposed to give me money!”

Wakatoshi held onto the sink, panting again as he washed his face. No. No he did not want to be like his father. Injured. No, that's why he ate well. He treated his body well. Run no less than five laps around the acres. Avoid the tree stump to the right. He could never, ever end up like his dad. 

He threw his head up and panted as he stared at himself. His skin was pink. He felt nothing on his skin. He only sighed. He grabbed the paper towels and wiped his face. He started to cry.

He was so close to ending up like his Dad. Like Tooru. No. He is strong. He got to Nationals.

He’s living his true, and only dream.

Then why is The Miracle Boy panicking?

☆彡

The lunch room was bustled, filled with happy and chattering students from the game that happened a week ago. The chefs served sushi today. Yuri was away in the auditorium for practice.

Wakatoshi ate with his team. Satori smiled. “Wow! Did Yuri give you good luck concerts for their concert, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“No.” he responded, eating a salmon roll after.

Eita sighed, “Well, I hear they’re playing with that new transfer, Choboyo-kun.”

Wakatoshi looked up, and scowled. “Oh.”

“Ooh, Eita-kun you’re going to get Wakatoshi-kun so angry!!” Satori laughed. 

Wakatoshi continued to eat, and he frowned as he looked down. It was one of his worst flaws. Jealousy. Shoyo. Tooru. Despite how they collapsed, how they looked up in anger, he knew they still probably had nice days. Tooru probably was nice with his nephew. Shoyo had hugged his best friends. Wakatoshi had his teammates and the twins. Yuri and he had been dating for a year, four months, and 27 days. The thought of Yuri being with another boy, of course it was rational he would get upset.

Besides, Yuri never told him of anything remotely close to the concert for that night. He continued to eat. He would tell them later.

☆彡

Wakatoshi slammed the ball against the ball in a beat. One two, one two three. He remembered the beat from a lullaby his Uncle Ushijima Hideaki sang to him. He threw the ball up, and ran, staring at the ball. He wanted nothing more, like Left Handing Hideaki, than to show his strength. He hit the other side of the net.

Satori, Goshiki, and Kenjiro were across Wakatoshi. Taichi and Eita were with Wakatoshi. He watched as Satori took the first hit, giving Kenjiro time to serve to Goshiki. Wakatoshi moved with Taichi to go for a block. Wakatoshi jumped early, but blocked Goshiki’s spike.

“One touch!” Taichi yelled. He jumped down, as Wakatoshi quickly caught the ball and moved it up. Eita made a pretty decent set. Wakatoshi did not want to upset him by saying it was much too far from the net, but he jumped.

Satori jumped perfectly. A great timing block. 

Wakatoshi froze. He saw Satori’s crazy blood red eyes flash into the Blond Crow. Wakatoshi smacked down the ball.

“FUCK!”

The game stopped, and everyone went to Satori’s hand. He winced quietly, and he flexed his middle finger. His comrades gasped out of grotesque. “Wakatoshi-kun! Shit-, you do scare me!”

“Sorry.” Wakatoshi panted. He was sweaty. He was sticky and sweaty. He wanted to shower.

“Is everything—?” Coach Saito started.

“Let’s put Hayato in while we practice.” Wakatoshi grabbed the ball, walking over. “We need to make sure we win the next game.”

“Captain, we did win.” Goshiki gently took Satori close, wrapping his fingers with a tape.

Wakatoshi scowled. He didn’t want to admit to his comrades they barely won. Stupid Shoyo almost took away their name of the Great Eagles. But he turned away. “One more game, then Eita and I shall take Satori to Nurse Yui.”

Everyone gave a hesitant agreement. Wakatoshi sighed, he banged the ball against the wooden ground. He looked across the net.

Six players in black and orange uniforms. Goshiki’s hair had faded to the Captain Crow. The foolish Lightning Libero Crow. Kenjiro looked so much like Tobio.

Wakatoshi twitched. He threw the ball up. Not again. Not again. He leaped into the air, and he felt- no he saw Goshiki move. Shoyo. He spiked hard, past Hayato, past Goshiki’s defense, so hard the ball had flown to the ceiling, and had gotten stuck in a beam.

Wakatoshi panted, his muscles spasming, and he looked at Goshiki with anger. He showed him. He showed him he is the strongest. He showed him no matter how hard he would train like Tooru he would not—

Satori gripped his arm. Wakatoshi stopped breathing. His best friend frowned. “Wakatoshi. You won.”

☆彡

Yuri smiled and they held Wakatoshi’s hand. They had been wandering the neighborhood for awhile, and now Yuri was just beginning to look at the music stores and babbling about their new deep desire for something about a gem. They said it would make the music sound crystal clear.

“Is it not clear already?” The boy asked.

“Silly! No!! It needs to be perfect for the concert!”

The concert. Wakatoshi followed them around, and after the eighth story about how they loved little stuffed animals, he asked, “Who is Choboyo?”

“And- huh? Oh! Choboyo-Senpai! He’s in university, so he offered to play with me! He’s a little bit much though...”

Wakatoshi went closer as Yuri continued in telling their story. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yuri looked over and sighed. “Because look at you! Wakatoshi-Chan, you’re slouching. Don’t worry, he’s only in the background of my performance for tomorrow. Now come on! Chin up~! I need to pick out a good outfit for tomorrow! I wanted you to help!”

Wakatoshi was too tired to disagree, despite him having promised his mother to babysit the twins. That morning. He knew Grandmother Nijiko would tell Ms. Ushijima, and he knew he would be subjected to the marsh cleaning, but, seeing Yuri’s smile as they picked out a strawberry shirt for their suit, was enough for him to think;

 “Who cares?”

Wakatoshi was benched. Coach Saito had explained to Wakatoshi that he had to maintain his speed before he could be put back on the court. Which was perfect. During lunch, privately, he practiced. It was better for him then.

No more Karasuno Crows.

But tonight, the concert hall had changed. However, Wakatoshi's face was non wipeable of his scowl. He wore a hand me down of Mr. Utsui’s suit. It smelled horrible. It was stiff.

“Ah~, Yuri-kun!” Choboyo was indeed a young man, with a stubble, messy and sleek white hair, his eyes a never-ending black.

Wakatoshi scowled as he watched Yuri hug him. Yuri wore a lovely green suit, their hair pulled back.

They were so beautiful.

“Choboyo! This is my boyfriend, Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s a volleyball player- He’s going to the National Championship!”

The young men stared at each other. Wakatoshi nodded. “Good luck.”

“We say break a leg, actually.” He only despised him even more, now. “Come on, Yuri,” Wakatoshi eyed his hand. His right hand lingered on Yuri’s waist, on their shoulders, and on their hands.

Wakatoshi sighed to himself.

Yuri turned. “Is something wrong?” Choboyo also looked, raising a white eyebrow of his. Wakatoshi gripped his fists and he scowled at Choboyo.

“You like Yuri-Chan. My partner.”

“Wakatoshi—!”

“I won’t lie.” Choboyo took his hands off Yuri, “They’re very attractive.”

Wakatoshi widened his eyes. He didn’t expect the man to just admit it. It was almost like he was trying to be a pervert.

“E-excuse us,” Yuri put a hand to Choboyo’s chest. “I-I’ll be right there.” Yuri sighed as Choboyo smirked to himself, kissed their hand, and walked away.

Wakatoshi stepped closer. “Do you not see this? He’s a pervert.”

“It’s one performance,” Yuri said, rubbing their arm. “Don’t you realize this is why I’ve been asking you to be with me? W-why I’ve been playing more around you, and not practicing here? I know.” 

He blinked. He wanted to say something. Anything. He gulped. He blinked. “Yuri-Chan. I do not think you should play with him.”

Yuri looked up with teary eyes. “If you’re not going to be here to support me right now, I-I want you to leave. I can’t do this right now, ‘Toshi. I want to take a break.”

He gulped. “Yuri, perhaps you should think straight. D-don’t—.”

“I’ll see you around.” They turned around, and just like that, Wakatoshi again, was alone.

☆彡

Wakatoshi locked the door behind him. He sat on his bed. It creaked. Across the hall, he heard the twins.

The twins.

He got up as fast as he could, and he went to their room. Everything in the room was painted pink, and had little birds that twittered happily with the characters of bird songs next to their beaks. The room was split into Mayumi’s play space, and then Kazane’s.

Wakatoshi squatted down. 

The twins were on the floor, Mayumi’s foot was in her mouth. Kazane was trying to climb back in her crib. Her left hand was on the crib. Wakatoshi picked up Kazane, and started to hum.

Before he had heard his mother and father fight, he actually wanted to sing. He remembered seeing his father’s sisters all perform and sing. It made him stare in awe. The twirling of their batons, of their voices, their silks. Wakatoshi adored it. He once thought of himself there, dancing.

It was Grandfather Ushijima Touma who frowned at catching him. “Nijiko.” he had stated firmly. “He is pretending to be a daughter.” Wakatoshi had never felt such pain as he did that evening.

But being an artist was worse. That was when they discovered he had a tendency to write with his left hand. Just like the exiled Uncle Hideaki. He was supposedly in Germany.

“You had let him draw?!” cried Ms. Ushijima. Her parents stood next to her. She gripped his hand. “Does this look right to you? Huh, Takashi?!” 

It was only his father. Little, nothing for brains, Mr. Utsui, who stood in front of his son. “He’s just a boy! He’ll use it for-for something great! You just wait!”

Wakatoshi picked up Mayumi as well, and began to hum. He began to quietly sing the lullaby. An old song. It was about change. About the discovery of an island. About how the tide changed with each roll onto the warm sand. Yes, everything to the nude eye was the same, but change happened. With tradition, came slow, but sure, change.

He lifted his baby sisters above him. He teared up. “This forbidden, new world, on a summer day we meet.” Mayumi was the only one awake now. He hummed as he knelt beside her. “On a summer day, we will meet again, Imoto-san.”

“Wakatoshi?” The boy turned, with teary eyes as Mayumi drifted into sleep. Mr. Utsui stood there, his mouth slack open. He closed it. “I didn’t know you sang.”

“Me either.” Wakatoshi stood up.

Mr. Utsui looked away, “Ah- well, Wakatoshi, why don’t we go outside?” He nodded and stood, awkwardly following him outside.

The sun was setting to the west of the Ushijima Acres. Wakatoshi sat on an old swing. Mr. Utsui sat next to him. Wakatoshi made sure not to look at his father; for he smelled horribly.

“Son, I- well, I have some news about you and your sisters.” Wakatoshi looked at him. Mr. Utsui had gained many splotches of white on his face, and wrinkles.

“Yes?”

“I got a job out of Miyagi Prefecture. I’m taking the twins with me. You will continue to live with your mother.”

Wakatoshi paused. He looked out at the sunset. “No.”

Mr. Utsui wheezed out of his age, “I beg your pardon?”

“You have not been here for the divorce. You were not there for Oka-san when she gave birth. You were not there to take care of the girls. You were not even here for me.” Wakatoshi looked at the sun, and it disappeared.

“You do not deserve the twins.”

The boy got up, before he stopped. His shirt was caught on something. He tugged. To no avail. He tugged and he- Wakatoshi had stumbled, back, he was trying to regain himself.

But everything flashed.

Yuri. 

Kazane. 

Mayumi. 

Mr. Utsui.

Ms. Ushijima.

Grandmother Nijiko

Grandfather Touma.

Kei.

Shoyo.

Himself.

Wakatoshi had fallen into the marsh, and he had passed out into the water.

☆彡

Wakatoshi awoke, to Kazane biting his finger. He gasped, and he groaned. He began to gently flex his body, and groan again. “O-oka-san-?”

“Hold still.” Ms. Ushijima scrubbed his body. “You nearly drowned in the lake. Ugh, look at the water! Oka-san!” she cried. She wore a bra- she never wore such things. Sweatpants?

Were Satori’s theories true? Did alternate universes exist?

“Oka-san- agh- I-I cannot-,”

Ms. Ushijima smacked his face. Satori was wrong, alternate universes did not exist. “Still, I said! You banged up your knee pretty badly.”

Wakatoshi sat up, practically leapt up, but he moaned loudly in pain. “N-No, no. No-  O-oka-san- please- I can’t-!”

“Shut up, you’ll heal if you sit still!”

Wakatoshi looked up, and started to cry. “I-I won’t win. Oka-san,” he hugged her, he cried in her neck. “I-I won't a-able to play! I’ll fail at nationals! Tell me!!” He held her tightly as he looked at her.

Ms. Ushijima stared down at her son.

Wakatoshi had clear snot on his upper lip. His tears were salty, and stained his cheeks as they dripped down into the tub. He was only in his bare underwear. The water was marshy. He had a rose colored bruise blossom on his knee.

Ms. Ushijima took his chin. “Listen to me, Wakatoshi. If you sit absolutely still, I’ll see what I can do. Just,” she heard the baby whimper.

“O-oni. . .” one of the twins started to cry.

Wakatoshi sniffled, and he looked at Kazane. Ms. Ushijima gave the baby to him. “Kazane-kun, go comfort your Oni-tan.”

“Oni~!” Kazane wrapped her chubby arms around him, then Mayumi as Ms. Ushijima placed her on him. Mayumi, adorably, finished her sister’s sentence, “tan!”

Wakatoshi smiled, and he softly cried, as Ms. Ushijima lifted up his right leg. “It’s alright, Wakatoshi-tan, I’m here.” She held it with care, and repeated, quietly as she wet some rags, “I’m here.”

☆彡

It was the night of the concert. Wakatoshi wore his school outfit, despite it being the weekend. He told his parents it’s on school grounds. They did not argue.

Goshiki found out about his injury. He had gotten the word out. Wakatoshi had been numb the entire night. He went to bed the night before, sleeping with his sisters in their room. He had awoken to their stuffed animals on his face.

Mr. Utsui chuckled about how their first word was for their elder brother. Grandmother Nijiko spoke nothing as she ate breakfast with him.

Satori sat next to Wakatoshi, wearing a hoodie, and he smiled. “Yuri-kun looks awfully pretty today, huh Wakatoshi-kun~?”

Wakatoshi said nothing. He only looked down. Strangely, he did not want to get up this morning. He did not want to do anything. He felt as if he should retire from life.

The Miracle Boy was supposed to be strong.

Never to get hurt.

And yet, here he was. Pathetically existing next to his family. He did not even mention to them that Yuri did not love him anymore. He did not tell anyone, either, of his sisters moving away from him.

They sat on his lap though, pacifiers in their mouths.

“Wakatoshi-kun, your sisters are so so so cute!” Satori laughed as he picked up Mayumi. She began to whine, aher pigtails bouncing as her blue eyes stared at Satori in fury. She fussed before Wakatoshi gently put her on his lap.

“She does not like to be held from under the arms. Only by her stomach, Despite her being ticklish there, she loves it.”

Satori smiled softly. “You love them a lot. Were they there for you when-?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “Yes. They were born right after. Oka-san was tired. They kept me company.” He paused. “I do not know what to do without them.”

Satori sighed softly, “I understand.”

The lights dimmed. A hush over the audience. The auditorium was huge and packed.

Yuri, and Choboyo came out. Yuri was so uncomfortable. Their eyes looked down at the ground. Choboyo grabbed the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for our performance tonight! I gotta say- Yuri has something great planned out!”

The two turned to the middle of the stage. Yuri nodded. They held a different violin. It was not theirs.

Choboyo went to his grand piano proudly, and he looked at Yuri’s body, then at their eyes. They both looked at each other, finally, nodded and looked away. After a few seconds, Choboyo started off.

Wakatoshi hated it. He pounded a key, then followed it as if he was trying to sing a love song for Yuri.

Despite the famous classical song, it was still the one Yuri had played what seemed like eons ago. The Swan.

Here it went by the Carnival of Animals.

But Wakatoshi knew what Yuri was trying to replicate. But their music, their bow, the sound made Wakatoshi cringe.

It was not the joy, peaceful, calm song Yuri played in the land. Here, mixed in with Choboyo’s romantic noise; was their song of sorrow. They focused, as if on the music, and not on their own play.

Wakatoshi looked down. Two birds. One defeated. Another attack for more.

The song ended.

Wakatoshi clapped, his hands smacking like thunder, and Yuri looked at him, just for a moment. They went backstage, and the next duo came out. The song was the infamous Clair De Lune.

“Wakatoshi?”

He looked at his dad beside him. Mr. Utsui showered the night before due to falling in the marsh to save Wakatoshi. He had done his hair. He had also shaved.

“Your mother and I talked, we decided that I’ll live here. After my first paycheck I’ll get a good car, so I can drive in and out of the Prefecture. And, son?” Mr. Utsui moved in closer.

Wakatoshi suddenly teared up. When he was little, he remembered exactly how his father smelled when he protected him from the traditional rules that had ached his once frail bones.

Like hot sand.

Mr. Utsui, in that moment, murmured into Wakatoshi’s ear, as the song had ended, “I am so proud you got into Nationals. Keep working hard. Keep getting stronger for us.”

As Wakatoshi’s hot tears fell, he whispered, looking at his father, “T-Thank you, Oto-san.”

☆彡

Wakatoshi had bounced the ball. He stood firmly on his right leg. He breathed in deeply. He eyed his friend across from him, and Mr. Utsui who held the twins. Mayumi was on the sand, babbling and trying to eat it.

“Imoto-san, do not try to eat the sand, okay?” Wakatoshi looked across to his sister.

“Oni~!” Kazane cried with a laugh.

Wakatoshi chuckled, and he gently bounced the ball. The sand underneath his sneakers. His deep and panting breath. He looked at his friend with a soft smile.

Satori panted himself, his red hair sticking to his forehead. He only smiled widely with happiness.

Wakatoshi breathed deeply, and calmed himself.

Satori and he, underneath the midnight moon.

Wakatoshi served. Satori dived under and threw the ball up, before spiking. Wakatoshi, with great speed, blocked and Satori read him. Satori gathered himself again to throw the ball, set, then spike. Now Wakatoshi served it to himself, and he quickly set it. He now went to the left, and spiked hard right. Satori tried to follow for a moment, before he watched the ball slam beside him. Satori, however, blocked enough to make a dump. Wakatoshi nodded.

A great defense.

Satori smiled with a small breath of relief, “Wakatoshi-kun, I love playing with you, but you scare me.”

The young man smiled as he went underneath the net to get it. “I try my best to be a Strong Monster as well.”

“How scary!” Satori gasped, and Wakatoshi took the ball. He spun the ball as Mr. Utsui cheered happily.

“Go Wakatoshi-kun!”

“Are you okay? I know your dad is back.” Satori said quietly.

Wakatoshi turned around. “It’s okay. I-I’m not happy he is back.”

Satori widened his eyes. “Oh?”

Wakatoshi sat beside him against the barn. The Ushijima space was so peaceful now. Not in a flash as he usually saw it. Wakatoshi took a deep breath again. “He came to announce he lost his job. He told me he was happy and I was happy. Not that he was proud.” Wakatoshi began to practice throwing the ball up and setting, as if it was instinct. “I was thinking. I am not happy. We nearly lost, Satori.”

His friend looked up at the stars. “I wanted to quit after that game.”

Wakatoshi stopped. He looked at his friend. “But you have so much—,”

“Those memories won’t stop flowing. Once we win nationals, Wakatoshi-kun, that’s when I’ll stop. Seeing your smile hold that big, big trophy, that’s when I’ll quit. Because then you won’t need me, and I won’t need you anymore.” Satori smiled. “I love you.”

Wakatoshi opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it. He closed his eyes, before he looked at Satori. “I love you too, Satori. Thank you for being by my side.”

They both, slowly, turned to gaze at the stars.

“So, you’ll recommend me for a movie interview, right Wakatoshi-kun?”

“Perhaps.”

☆彡

Snow drifted down. It fell against Yuri’s umbrella.

“Wait!”

Yuri stopped walking, and took out their earbuds as they turned around. They widened their eyes. “Wakatoshi-ch-? What are you- Why are you running?” Yuri started.

Wakatoshi winced, and he sighed. He hid a huge dandelion bouquet behind his back, with a small box.

“Yuri-Chan.” the young man panted, “I-I am not the strongest. I lost a lot of things in the past few days. I gained some of them back.” He showed the bouquet, and the box.

“I should have focused on you, my flower. On your music. I went to your concert. You did not practice, did you? It is alright. I do not want to jump back to our relationship if you are not ready. I believe we should go back to the beginning, Yuri-Chan. If you like, we can go back to my farm, and I can listen to you play, and play, and play until we fall asleep.”

Wakatoshi, after a moment, opened the box. There was Yuri’s dream sapphire blue rosin. One swipe, said the ad on it, and the bow is brand new.

“I will always love you. But I was not okay. Now, if you take me back, I will be. Then I will never break that promise.”

Yuri looked at his big tearful eyes. “I love you, stupid!” Yuri cried and they jumped on him, tackling him. The couple held each other, with laughter and deep chuckles as they cuddled close in the soft winter wind. In an act of warmth, Yuri hugged. In an act of love, Wakatoshi kissed. 

The couple was late for their classes that morning.

☆彡

Wakatoshi rinsed his face in the sink, lightly with cold water. Goshiki stood beside him by making faces. Reon patted the youngster’s back, and laughed. Eita instructed, but also listened to Kenjiro. Satori sang to himself.

The clinking of the lights above the young man began to go into a rhythm. His eyes tilted up, and he blinked. Once. Twice. And again.

He, and his teammates, were in a full purple volleyball outfit. The Number One on his shirt was bold white. His muscles flexed gently when he looked at his short olive hair. His eyes glimmered seeing where he was. How he was there.

The young man smiled to himself.

“Great Eagles.” The young man who played volleyball said, “Let’s finish this.”

[bakugou-jpg]

“Breathe” [Kuroo x reader] Karasuhoes server collab

Hello, hello, helloo !! This is my part of the karasuhoes server collab, the masterlist to all the other amazing and beautiful stories the other wrote can be found here so make sure to check those out too :)

This was really fun to participate in and i’m very glad to have been able to be part of such a fun little community🥺 Hope you guys’ll enjoy this thing i made !

Also pLEASE forgive the fact that this banner is pretty bad. I forgot that i had to make a new one and made this one at camp, but i’ll replace it soon with a better one😭🤣

Prompt:  “Hey, just look at me. Breathe.”

Warnings: TW:some sort of panic attack

Words: 3407

____________________________

Breathe

Dating Kuroo was like running away from the rain late at night after coming back from a big city by train. Getting out of the train and walking onto the platform only to notice its raining pretty hard, the noise of the droplets hitting the ground echoeing in your ears.Counting down from 5 to 1 before bolting off, the sound of shoes hitting the wet pavement being somewhat pleasant while laughing and screaming at the same time before rushing into the car being absolutely soaked. Sitting in silence for a few seconds, catching your breath before bursting into laughter.

Its the smell of gasoline late at night while looking at him through the car windows as he's pumping gas into the car, staring off into space for a moment before snapping back to his thoughts and catching you staring. Smiling in response and shooting a wink at you.

Dating Kuroo, was so much fun and comforting. There was no one who could make you laugh at silly science pun pick-up lines like he could, no one who knew your exact order at every single restaurant like the back of their hand and especially no one who knew how to hold and kiss you just the way you liked it like Kuroo did.

The two of you met in highschool, his third year and your second. Being friends with your neighbor, Yaku, seemed to have its perks especially after tagging along with some of their games and catching the attention of the rooster.

A couple of dates, victories, anniversaries and a ring on your finger later the two of you were sharing an apartment together.

Kuroo had a great job, one that paid quite well and allowed the two of you to go on vacation abroad a couple of times. You were still in college, finishing your last year of school and starting work at a place you had your internship at which happened to offer you a job afterwards at. It felt too good to be true, all of it.

Coming home from a rough day only to find a freshly made meal waiting for you on the table, waking up to find your head locked in between an arm and a leg wrapped around your lower back because he once again used you like a body pillow and had his own head pushed between a pillow, finding little knick knacks on your desk he bought cause they reminded him if you and solving the who's doing the dishes part with rock-paper-scissors but when you lose he'd still be by your side drying everything off.

Hours worth of paragraphs could be written about how fun and loving domestic life with Kuroo was.

"(Y/n)? I'm home!"

With his tie loosely hanging around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt open and one of his shoes slightly untied Kuroo had entered the house. His face was adored with a few droplets of sweat mixed with rain from outside after having ran from the car towards the front door, not wanting to get wet and all.

It was usually you who came home later, but today Kuroo was out of town and had a long drive home so he hadn't been able to be back for dinner on time.

It didn't take long until he had kicked off his shoes and got rid of his blazer, throwing it on some boxes so he could "clean it later".

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion, wondering about the reason why you hadn't greeted him yet. Normally you'd be calling out for him immediately or, if it had been a particularly hard and long day for him, you'd be by his side in a second taking him into your arms while running your fingers through his hair.

Perhaps, you went out to go to the shop or your parents? No, your coat was hanging on the coatrack with still fresh droplets of rain on it from outside and your shoes were neatly placed underneath it.

"(Y/n)..?"

Kuroo entered the living room, socks softly dragging over the smooth wood floor of the apartment. While he was busy taking off his tie, leaving him only in a blouse with rolled up sleeves, he could notice how there were two bags of groceries scattered over the kitchen counters. It seemed as if you hadn't bothered to even notice one of the peaches had rolled onto the ground and how it seemed that one of the eggs cracked.

Kuroo scanned the living room, noticing how you probably didn't even plop down on the couch after he left the apartment . Everything was still the same, empty cup that once contained his vitamin juice still there and the cushion he used to playfully hit you on the head with still on top of the head rest.

"Hey, babe? Are you home?"

Once again there was no reply and all he could hear was the soft buzzing of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

Perhaps, you were asleep? Or showering, maybe you were cold after going through the rain and were soaked so went to shower immediately which would explain the hurry.

A small grin made its way onto his face as he hopped off into the bedroom in his search for you.

He tiptoed to the bedroom, sneaking his way into his most treasured room of the apartment, being very careful that if you were to be sleeping he wouldn't be waking you up and could just look at you for a few seconds because god did Kuroo love the way you looked oh so peaceful and soft whenever you slept. It was a sight he could never get enough of, even if there might of have been some drool on the corner of your mouth.

Kuroo softly pushed the door open, a slight creak could be heard through the door but it wasn't too loud. The curtains were closed, perhaps you really were asleep? He was sure you had opened the curtains this morning which was something that had woken him up abruptly.

"You sleeping, baby?" His voice spoke softly before he made its way inside. Once his eyes had gotten used to the light, he could see how your clothes were scattered over the ground. It seemed like they were a bit wet, meaning you had been in the rain on your way back, and they left a trail towards the bathroom door.

It didn't take long before the edges of his mouth stretched out into a smirk and in a split second he had marched towards the door, his ear against the white wooden surface to pick up any sound coming from inside. "(Y/n)? I'm home, can i come in?" Kuroo called out, knocking softly while his other hand reached for the knob.

Kuroo lost the sense of privacy between the two of you a long time ago. I mean you two had seen each other naked before, what more was there to hide? You'd be taking a shower and he'd casually walk in to use the bathroom or the opposite way of course. You even caught him walking into the kitchen butt-naked in the morning. It was..interesting.

He'd always be able to walk into the bathroom while you were there, no matter what you were doing. Nobody else had the key to your apartment and if Kuroo brought someone home he'd always send you a text beforehand to avoid any embarrassing moments.

..so why was it locked now?

At first Kuroo didn't think much of it, maybe you did it on accident?

"(Y/n)? Are you okay..?"

His voice was laced with worry but ,once again, there still was the possibility that you had locked it on accident. He did it too sometimes, it was a reflex from when he lived at home that sometimes randomly resurfaced.

Though, Kuroo couldn't hear any water running..but you had to be inside since the door was locked after all..why weren't you responding?

Did u slip and fall? Were you okay?

Kuroo could feel how his chest tightened and all feeling he had in his upper body sank to his toes. His hands were sweaty, the loose tie around his neck suddenly feeling way too tight for his liking.

He leaned his forehead against the wooden door and started fiddling with the doorknob, hoping you'd atleast respond with a whimper or maybe a knock back. After all, you'd still be okay..right?

"..H-hey, baby can u open the door for me? Can you do that? I'm coming in okay?"

Although the door was locked, there was still a way to come inside from the outside. You see, though it was very tiny, there was a little button at the bottom of the door knob you could twist if you used something thin, like a coin or keys.

Kuroo found out when the two of you were roughhousing. He was obviously winning, after all the man had years of volleybal behind him and still worked out frequently. But, he had a weakness that would give you just a few seconds to get away and that weakness were his sensitive sides. It only took one pinch of your fingers and he flinched and started cackling, something which allowed you to run towards the bathroom while locking yourself up.

You thought you were safe, a feeling of pride washing over you and you settled yourself on the closed toiletseat. Everything seemed to lead to you having won, but the simple click of the doorlock turning made your heart drop and a few seconds later Kuroo stepped inside with a devilish grin on his face and a penny in between his fingers.

Long story short, you were absolutely screwed.

"Shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck.."

Trashing through the drawers, Kuroo hurriedly looked for something he could use to open that damned lock. Within seconds, he fished out a very tiny key out of the nightstand and was quick to make his way towards the bathroom door.

"I'm coming in now"

...

"(Y/n)..?" Kuroo muttered, a wave of relief washing over him once he saw that you appeared to be okay physically. A second wave of worry washed over him the moment he saw your tear stained face looking up at him.

The sight of you sitting on the cold tile floor, your bathrobe hugging your body and your still slightly damp hair dripping some water on the floor was something he didn't expect to see. You were sobbing at this point, only now did he notice how you were hiding one of your hands from his sight. It killed him, seeing you like this, especially since he didn't know what happened and countless of possibilities ran through his head..why didn't you open the door?

Kuroo quickly rushed to your side and wrapped his arms around you, burrying your face into his shoulder while sitting down. He couldn't care if his suit got wet or if his head bumped into the sink, all he wanted right now was to hold you and help you calm down as he could hear how you slowly started choking on your sobs and hyperventilate.

He backed up a little, giving you some space to breathe and softly rubbed your back. "Hey, hey, its okay..I'm here now, its okay. Ssshh, its okay baby." Kuroo whispered, a voice oh so soft and comforting that always pulled at the strings of your heart. A voice that felt like a warm cup of chocolate milk with marshmallows that started melting.

At this point you were shaking, the clear thoughts you once had turning into a mushy blurry mess and all you could do was cry and panic. You wanted to go away, wait no you didn't. But you did, you could run, you shouldn't. Maybe you should leave without saying anything, wait no no what were you saying. Fuck it was getting hot-

“Hey, just look at me. Breathe.”

Breathe.

Kuroo was holding your face in his hands, basically forcing you to keep your attention to him and him only. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, wiping away the tears that were leaving your eyes like niagra falls. The way his warm hazel eyes peered into your own with such love yet worry made your head start clearing up. His touch was comforting, it was okay. Everything was okay.

Pulling away from him, you dug the arm you were hiding further into your lap. "Tetsurou, i..I, i'm really..Fuck" You cursed under your breath while throwing your head back, bumping it into the wall behind you while taking a deep breath. The way Kuroo's eyes were stuck onto you, felt like a thick smoke cloud. You couldn't get rid of it and it was killing you slowly, you wanted it gone yet it made you feel at ease in a way.

The bathroom suddenly felt a lot smaller and you suddenly realized why you were crying in the first place, old worries resurfacing and tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. Unconciously, you started pulling your hand closer and closer to your body, something which didn't get unnoticed by Kuroo as you felt his hand slowly reach out to it and wrapping around it.

"I-i'm so sorry.." You whimpered, a fresh new wave of tears falling down your cheeks.

It took awhile for him to register what exactly was going on, especially since he was confused about why you were hiding it. He didn't even understand what exactly it was what he was looking at at first, but within seconds his mind put two and two together.

Staring at the three pregnancy tests in his hand, Kuroo's mind immediately went blank. The world around him disappeared, and all he could look at were the three different sticks that had either a  || , ++ or read postive on it.

The thick silence was choking you up even more, the bad outcomes you imagined in your mind that you on life didn't hope to become reality suddenly feeling way too close to you. Maybe you really did have a reason to cry.

Kuroo slowly adverted his eyes from the sticks in his hands to you and he felt his heart hammer in his chest. "You..you're pregnant? Like, a baby, your- no OUR baby, growing inside of you. Do you..want to keep it?" He questioned, his hand reaching out for your own. The soft squeeze he gave once you accepted it made you feel at ease, the bad thought drifting away slowly again.

You nodded your head at his question, adverting your eyes to his chest. The world around you had stopped a long time ago, it was just you in the bathroom. The moment you had gotten home you didn't even bother to put the groceries away, the screaming in your head getting louder and louder with the minute becoming truely agonizing. The words 'You're just late' repeating over and over again getting louder with the second as you got closer to the bathroom.

At first you postponed it, taking a shower first and taking your absolute sweet time with it while scrubbing and scrubbing your skin as if you were trying to scrub away the panic that boiled in your chest. After having been in it for around 30 minutes you forced yourself out, not wanting the water bill going up just because you were feeling like a coward.

Peeing, had never been so difficult in your life. It wouldn't, you couldn't. It frustrated you extremely, never in your life had your bladder given up on you the most and when you needed her most she decided to let you down.

The minutes that followed were probably the worst. It felt like hours had passed, your reality slowing down like in an action movie when they'd shoot bullets at someone and they'd barely dodge them. Even after hearing the beep of one of the pregnancy tests, the more expensive one, had echoed through the bathroom you waited for atleast another 40 minutes before looking at it.

The truth is, Kuroo and you talked about a lot that involved your future. Kuroo always talked about how he wanted to buy a house, a big one with a beautiful garden where you could keep pretty colorful flowers and gaze at the stars at night. One with a porch and of course a swinging bench where the two of you would sit when you're all old and wrinkly with an old dog sitting at your feet. He'd talk about how he'd just know how good you'd look at your wedding, already talking about how he'd kiss you at the altar like he had never kissed you before.

All of those plans, plans for the future.

..yet there were never any words about kids.

The two of you weren't exactly too young anymore, after all you were responsible adults now, but you didn't except that if you were to ever have kids it would be right now. You weren't even sure what Kuroo thought of being a dad himself.

"I-i'm gonna be a dad? I'm actually gonna be a dad? We'll have to buy a house!"

With another nod of confirmation coming from you, Kuroo bursted out into laughter. It was a type of laughter you had enver heard before,if you were honest. It wasn't like his usual cackle, in all honesty it sounded more like a serial killer in a movie that was absolutely nuts and laughed wholeheartedly. You weren't even sure why he was laughing, heck Kuroo didn't even know himself.

The relief that had washed over him the moment he finally cleared his head was immeasurable. You were okay, like actually okay, and he was gonna be a dad? This was the first and last time he was happy about you crying. Fuck, he could even feel his eyes burn slightly.

Kuroo looked at you for a moment with a big grin and you could see how ecstatic he had gotten all of the sudden. The joy he held in his eyes was something you last saw when you proposed the idea of living together but even that wasn't on the level as this.

It didn't take long before you started mimicking his smile, all of the bad emotions gone within a second. The tears that once spilled out of your eyes due to panic and the uncertainty you felt not too long ago, had turned into ones of relief and happiness.

Before you could even comprehend about everything that was happening, Kuroo had grabbed the fabric of your bathrobe and pulled you closer to him. His lips immediately met yours, your noses slightly bumping into each other in the process but at that moment it didn't matter. The way his lips moved against yours made your knees weak and made you want to hold onto it forever. With his hand cupping your face, Kuroo only deepened the kiss before he pulled away again and rested his forehead against yours.

The two of you gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, no words exchanged, but with the way Kuroo was looking at you with the softest look he didn't have to. His thumb softly caressed your cheek and you could hear the way he sighed in relief as if breathing out all of his worries.

With another soft kiss to your lips, this time merely a peck but still comforting Kuroo held you close in his arms. His face burried into your freshly washed hair and his nose pressed against your temple. His mouth ghosted over your ear and you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

"..thank you"

Maybe agreeing with your friend that coming along to his volleybal practice hadn't been so bad after all, you'd have to thank Yaku properly once he came back. Meeting Kuroo really might of have been the best thing to happen to you.

Neither of you knew what the future would hold at this point and in all honesty it was quite scary, but you had Kuroo and Kuroo had you. You two didn't know how to actually prepare for such a big step in your life and along the way there were many doubts.

But coming home late at night to find Kuroo slow dancing with your daughter to an old song on the lp player, his face in awe as he looked down at how the girl on his hip that held onto her father's hand slowly started dozing off due to all the swaying might of have made you realize that sometimes,

Some things should just be left unplanned.

[sweetheartyoongi]

Super Junior Scenario: Shirts

Leeteuk: supreme MC has been signed on for another variety show, and you get to tag along to the first episode taping. You’re both in his dressing room when wardrobe comes in to try and figure out what Lewk™️ would be best. He tries on outfit after outfit, mixing and matching all sorts of tops, bottoms, and accessories. It’s fun to watch...for a while, but fashion shows are only enjoyable for so long. When he and his dressers are preoccupied, you sneak over to the reject rack and play dress up on your own. You’re enjoying yourself so much you don’t notice your boyfriend has returned and can’t take his eyes off of you. You finally notice his stare in the mirror as you’re in a large printed dress shirt. Before you can defend your actions, he moves closer, wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your temple.

“I love when you wear the things I wear,” he whispers in your ear.

Heechul: “Come on, we’re going to be late!” You exclaim.

“No,” your boyfriend retorts from the closet, “I don’t look beautiful yet!” You roll your eyes. You were just going to meet some of his friends for a casual dinner, you have no idea why he has to look any special way. Heck, you’re wearing one of his hoodies, that’s how nonchalant this outing is.

“You look beautiful in anything, honey, so just pick something please.” After a few more minutes that felt more like an eternity he walks into the living room, finally dressed. You’re so excited to go you almost didn’t notice what he was wearing - an oversized hot pink shirt that’s extremely familiar because it’s yours. Sharing clothes was common in your relationship, but it had never really gone both ways before now.

“Is that my top?” You ask.

He points to your outfit, “Is that my top?”

“I think it’s cute on me.”

“And I think this is beautiful on me. Now let’s go, you’re making us late.”

Yesung: it’s your seventh date (not that he’s counting or anything), and the first one taking place at his home. You’re cooking together, and he’s insanely nervous, so you turn on some music and start dancing around to try and calm his nerves. However, he’s not always the most coordinated dancer...and before he can stop it, he’s bumped into you while you’re holding a pot of sauce. Obviously the sauce gets on your top, and Yesung’s not sure what’s redder - the stain or his cheeks. He can’t think of what to say, so he just reacts instead, and runs to his room, returning with the first shirt he could find. You nod in thanks, and leave to change. Yesung is head in hands mortified, and it breaks your heart to see when you come back.

You pull him into a hug, and hope to cheer him up by asking, “Was this just a ploy to get me in your clothes?”

He eyes you in his shirt before mumbling “No but I’m not mad about it.” You laugh at his cheeky reply, which in turn makes him smile.

Shindong: as we know, he has a history of people borrowing his shirts, and it’s not a terribly positive one. Moving forward, he vowed to let people know when he didn’t want them doing it anymore. And he’s fully ready to now, in his hotel room during tour, when he sees that one of his favorite shirts is missing. He’s about to storm into Donghae’s room (number one repeat offender) and demand it back, when you walk out from the shower wearing the clothing in question. The way it hangs off of your body, your wet hair dripping onto the shoulders, leaves Shindong speechless.

“Something wrong?” you ask. He chuckles softly and shakes his head.

“No, you just look really cute.” He still won’t tolerate his shirts being taken, but for you, maybe he could make an exception.

Eunhyuk: “We’re just going to have to go through it, you know.”

Unfortunately your boyfriend’s right. Walking to the restaurant seemed like a good idea at first, but now that it’s pouring rain and you have no umbrella or coat, you have regrets. The fact that you’re in a fitted white top isn’t ideal either. But you just sigh, grasp your boyfriend’s, and brave the storm. To say you both are absolutely drenched once returning to his place is an understatement. It’s also an understatement to say seeing you in your wet white shirt doesn’t completely thrill Eunhyuk. He’s about to take you in his arms but you quickly run to his room to dry off and change. You come back out, now in one of his comfy hoodies, and are instantly pulled into his embrace.

“Only you would find something sexier than a wet shirt,” he says before capturing your lips with his own.

Siwon: he’s such a traditional guy, and the trope of his s.o. wearing his shirts turns him on makes his day. You know this, of course, and use it to your advantage. After a late night dance practice, when he’s totally sore and spent, he comes home to see you tried and failed to wait up for him on the couch. He finds your snoozing form endearing, but gently shakes you awake to get you into bed. When you open your eyes and see his handsome face you smile and sit up. In doing so, your blanket falls to the floor and reveals that you’re in nothing but one of his white tshirts. The sight stirs something in Siwon, and all the aches and sores are forgotten as he throws you over his shoulder towards the bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed, mumbling a “love seeing you baby, especially like this,” while kissing your neck. You smile a devious smile. Works every time.

Donghae: “Oh come on, I just washed this one,” you sigh at your nine month old son, who had just let out a baby barf while you held him against your chest. You’re still amazed at the vile things that can come out of such a cute baby. “Okay,” You say, quickly strapping your son into his nearby bouncer, “Mommy’s going to be right back, after I burn this shirt.” Your son giggles as you quickly leave.

And of course, in that split second is when Donghae comes home. “Hey there buddy,” he coos, crouching down to kiss his son’s head, “what are you doing here all by yourself? Where’s your mom?”

“Finding something else to wear after your son so kindly puked all over my shirt.” You say as you come back into the living room, now wearing one of your husband’s many Tempus sweatshirts. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Donghae, who stands back up and tugs at his sweatshirt until you’re securely in his arms.

“You know, I think our son is lonely and wants a sibling. Maybe we should go make him one.” You playfully smack his shoulder, earning a happy babble from your son. “See? He agrees, majority rules, let’s go make another.”

Ryeowook: no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be able to hold your alcohol the way your boyfriend can, based on his composed nature and your inability to walk in one direction. You stagger into his flat, loudly recounting all the fun you had that night. “That was so fun,” you slur, unaware that your boyfriend was moving from room to room, “but it’d be way more fun if you were as shitfaced as I am.”

Ryeowook chuckles while tossing clothing at you, “I’m sure it would be. But now it’s time for bed, so get dressed.”

“Asking me to strip for you? Kinky, Wookie.” He smiles while ignoring your drabble and heads to the bedroom, getting ready for bed himself. He’s already laying down scrolling through his phone by the time you finally walk in. His breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you in his Super Show 6 tshirt.

“Planning on taking advantage of me?” You ask cheekily, incredibly aware of his lingering stare.

“If taking advantage means holding you until you inevitably need to puke, than you better believe it.” You smile and jump onto the bed.

Kyuhyun: he is obsessed with seeing you in his clothes, to the point where he will literally steal hide your clothes so you have no choice but to wear his (bc Evil Maknae is Evil). Today really isn’t the day, though, because your parents are going to stop by and the cute outfit you had planned on wearing is nowhere to be found.

“Kyuuuuuu,” you groan from your bedroom, “I’m serious, where’s my dress? I’m not answering the door in nothing but your ratty old shirt.”

From the kitchen, Kyuhyun smirks and calls back, “Keep calling my stuff ratty and see if you ever get your dress back again.” You sigh in frustration, trudging into the kitchen and resting your head against your boyfriend’s back in defeat.

“Babe, please, I’m begging you. This is my parents’ first time seeing our new place. I can’t look like I was freshly fucked.”

“But you were just-”

“Keep hiding my dress from me and see if I’ll ever be freshly fucked again.” You stare each other down, seeing who will crack first. Finally, he gives in.

“Pantry, top shelf.” You smirk, planting an obnoxiously loud kiss on his lips.

[angrylizardjacket]

the deadliest game // charlotte&lola

Summary: Motley Crue, Lola, Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen play Knife Monopoly. It goes about as well as you could expect.

A/N: BIG WARNING THERE’S SO MANY KNIVES. KNIVES, INJURY, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, CUTTING AND STABBING BUT NOT IN A SERIOUS WAY, JUST LIKE A FUN LITTLE STAB, BUT STILL THERE’S SERIOUS KNIFE PLAY. it’s not sexual but i still don’t think its sfw. @lemonadexmouth and @misscharlottelee i hope i did your girls at least a little bit proud haha. MC might be a bit oc, sorry!

----

When Charlotte hears the words Knife Monopoly leave Tommy’s mouth one unassuming Friday afternoon in the Motley House, she’s instantly sent back a whole five years, to the Bass family garage, and Athena, all of thirteen years old, screeching in triumph while Tommy, barely fifteen, swore a blue streak, amid begging Charlotte not to tell his dad. They’d ignored her warnings, her jousting with steak knives is not a better alternative to regular auctions, and as such, Tommy had underestimated his vicious and competitive little sister, and ended up with a knife half an inch deep in the heel of his palm. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Charlotte, sixteen, tells him.

“Get fucked!” Athena had crowed, knife still a little bloody as she raised it in triumph. 

“Language, ‘Thena,” Charlotte reminded her, searching amid Tommy’s various musical supplies for any sort of cloth to stem the bleeding.

“I just won Knife Monopoly I can do whatever I want!” Athena responded, looking a little bit crazy, brandishing her knife at Charlotte, who just regarded her with flat unamusement. 

“Go get me bandages,” she instructed the younger girl, cutting her off before she can even begin to protest, “or I’ll tell your mom it was your idea.”

“She won’t -”

“You stabbed Tommy!”

“It was his suggestion! It’s his fault he got stabbed!” But she complies anyways, and sulks the whole time. Tommy doesn’t play Knife Monopoly with his little sister after that, or around Charlotte either, though according to some of his friends at school, he hasn’t exactly quit the game cold turkey.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Charlotte calls from the bathroom where she’s helping dye the ends of Lola’s hair bright red, the moment the memory passes. It’s all over her hands, it already looks like blood; this all feels too familiar.

“Char-lee,” Tommy practically whines, and Charlotte steps out of the bathroom to scowl at him, even as Lola protests. 

“Okay but what is Knife Monopoly?” Nikki is far too intrigued for his own good -

“No.” Charlotte says, firmer this time, “it’s dumb as hell. And it always ends with Tommy getting stabbed.”

“Not always!” Tommy protests, “I’ve stabbed Vince a few times,” like that makes it any better.

“Sign me up!” Nikki’s eyes are always alight with some terrible and dangerous enthusiasm, and Charlotte regrets ever meeting him, and proceeds to, in great and embarrassing detail, retell the story of the first ever game of Knife Monopoly. Tommy looks like he’s bitten a lemon by the time she’s finished. Nikki is clearly not swayed.

“I got better at it,” Tommy actually pouts.

“I’d hope so; your sister was thirteen,” Nikki points out. Tommy’s expression, defying all expectations, gets even more bitter.

“She’s vicious,” he says in his own defense, “go get Vince, he’ll tell you I’m good at it.”

“What does being good at Knife Monopoly mean?” Lola finally steps into the conversation, hands also dyed a bright, eye-catching red to match the ends of her hair currently in a messy bun atop her head. Unfortunately, she seems onboard with the whole idea.

“It means Vince got stabbed a lot,” Charlotte fills in, and Tommy’s back to grinning and nodding.

“How about it, Lo?” He’s all enthusiasm, and Lola shrugs, which he takes as a yes. He then proceeds to ask each of them if they’re in, without waiting for an answer, and practically bolts into the spare room where Vince was desperately trying to sleep off a hangover. 

“Knife Monopoly!” He announces at the top of his lungs, hanging off the doorframe. It’s like he’s fifteen again. Charlotte, whole body heavy with resignation, makes her way to the phone to call up Peach and Eileen. From the other room, the other three all hear Vince groan loudly.

“No rib stabbing,” is his only groggy stipulation, and Tommy literally cheers. 

Peach and Eileen show up within the hour, with a bemused Mick in tow, both women wearing near-identical disapproving scowls.

“We don’t have enough knives,” Nikki muses, looking at them, but Tommy’s acting as if their arrival means the end of the world.

“Charlie -” he tries again.

“Moral support, Thomas.” She doesn’t leave any room for argument, and then apologizes to both redheads. After a beat, the anger cracks away to resignation from Eileen, who Eileen opens her bag to reveal a swathe of gauze tape and a bottle of vodka, “just be glad I didn’t call your sister.” Charlotte adds for good measure, but Tommy just flips her off. 

Peach, on the other hand, realizing that the game hadn’t even started, turns from disapproving to excited.

“Wait, so I get to actually play this time?”

“Peach!” Eileen groans, but Tommy’s offering her a place in the game. She’d always had to help clean up the aftermath; it’s easy to be disapproving when bandaging your not-boyfriend’s sliced up bicep, it’s another to be able to get drunk and play for yourself.

Lola gets out of the shower drying her freshly dyed hair, only for the body count in the apartment to have almost doubled; she takes it in stride, and actually parrots Nikki’s concern about a lack of knives almost word for word. 

“If someone can drive me to my motel I can borrow some steak knives from the kitchen,” she offers, much to Charlotte and Eileen’s growing horror. Someone suggests making a night of it, of ordering pizza, getting booze, and collecting more knives before they start, and it seems almost everyone else is in agreement, even Mick, who, as Lola points out, would take any opportunity to stab the rest of the band, even a little bit.

“I hate them,” Eileen mutters to Charlotte, the two of them sharing vodka with Mick in the kitchen. Charlotte hums in agreement, watching as Nikki and Lola went to collect knives, while Vince and Peach went to pick up pizza and booze, which left Tommy to find the Monopoly board. 

“Fuckin’ teenagers, the lot of them,” Mick chimes in, but there’s something amused in his gaze, and Charlotte sighs deeply and tells him not to indulge them. He shrugs, as if he can’t help himself, as if the damage is already done, and it is.

There’s actual knife wounds in the board, holes of considerable size.

Charlotte doesn’t know why now, of all the time she’s known them, that she’s finally hit with the realization that her closest friends might be the absolute dumbest people she knows.

The premise of Knife Monopoly is simple; any and all disagreements are settled with a knife fight. Disagreements can range from establishing rules - yes, that early on; there’s been several times where he’s never even made a roll and the game is over - to disputes about rent, about whose turn it is, and most famously, substituting auctions for knife fights. Usually Tommy’s only played it with one opponent, so it’s elated to maybe not get stabbed for a few rounds. The knife fights aren’t serious, no-one’s allowed to go in for the kill or anything dramatic, and if someone quits, you have to respect that and stop going after them, but once they’re out, they’re not allowed to rejoin.

Peach and Vince get back first, loaded up with food for the whole pack, and Charlotte watches through narrowed eyes as Tommy pulls Vince to the side after he’s set down all the pizzas. They’re plotting something, judging by the conspiratorial whispering, and their suddenly shifty gazes.

“Charlie,” this time her name is a question when Tommy asks it, and Charlotte turns her full attention to him and the blonde crowded together in the corner of the room, “do you think Nikki and Lola...” he hesitated, “what do you think their pain tolerance is?” He decides on, none too subtly. Charlotte, when she considers his question, can’t help the way her lips twitch in amusement, understanding exactly what was happening.

“You’re both going to lose.”

“Ye of little faith,” Vince clicks his tongue, nose in the air, and Charlotte suppresses the sudden murderous intent that surges forth in her. Probably not the best situation to be feeling murderous in.

“You’re knife fighting Nikki and Lola,” Charlotte smirks instead, “you’re going to lose.”

Neither of them like that she kind of has a point.

The two in question finally get back, a canvas bag full of steak knives in tow, which are quickly passed out, and dinner and drinks are distributed and eaten as the rules are explain. Mick’s balancing the tip of his knife against his knee where he’s sitting in the armchair, a single finger keeping the utensil aloft, regarding them all like he’s wondering who he should go for first. In contrast, Tommy and Lola are already being absolute idiots, and trying to balance their knives on their noses, thankfully handle first.

Charlotte picks up her knife.

“I want it noted that this is a absolutely terrible idea,” she’s points the knife at Tommy, and he cheerily tells her ‘then quit’. She stays in the game to prove a point to him, and takes another shot.

They roll the little plastic dice to see who goes first, and when Nikki and Vince both roll a ten, instead of rolling again, they’re both already down to fight. Except that Nikki’s got this gleam in his eyes that can mean nothing good, and is holding his knife like he knows exactly what to do with it.

There’s a moment of jousting, of metal against metal, then plastic, then Nikki’s blade slips past too quick for Vince to catch, and there’s a cut on his bicep. Tommy calls out that the fight is over, and Nikki boos him, but Lola pulls him back.

“Calm down, Jason Voorhees,” she rolled her eyes, and pokes him with her own knife. Nikki, obligingly sat back, and devoured another slice of pizza as he rolled his first turn.

The first turn goes smoothly, probably too smoothly, though Charlotte wouldn’t lie that her heart was in her throat the whole time she was moving her piece. Any objection would be met with someone’s injury, as says the rules.

When Lola takes her second roll, these rules are exploited.

“No.” Nikki tells her as soon as she totals the numbers on the dice. Lola checks her math. Eight. Two fours.

“Yes? Eight.” She answers slowly, with a frown. Tommy can already see where this is leading, and watches with wide eyes and baited breath. Nikki flips his knife, and points it at Lola.

“No.”

“How high are you?” Lola does not yet realise, it seems, and Nikki raises his eyebrows, claiming that that’s not the issue, “are you starting a fight because you’re bored?” Lola snickers, finally, and the way Nikki’s lips twitch at the corners betrays his intentions. There’s no way he would have started this over something so ridiculous with anyone else.

“I like this game,” Nikki turns to Tommy, and the moment his attention is pulled away, Lola lashes out with her knife, tearing his pants and leaving a thankfully shallow wound against his thigh. Nikki, surprised by the altercation, goes wide-eyed with shock, clutching his leg, mouth agape as he watches Lola smugly move her piece eight places forward.

“Yes, eight,” she says simply.

It was a dirty move, but Nikki’s expression turns to a disbelieving grin. Eileen hands over a roll of tissue paper. Everyone else is quiet, can’t quite believe what they’d just witnessed.

“Fucking knew you guys would be killer at this,” Tommy exclaims with a breathless grin, picking up the dice. Lola leans over and presses a sweet kiss to Nikki’s shoulder, and he, in turn, pets her head with the hand that’s not holding tissues to his fresh wound. 

Alcohol goes a long way to dulling the pain, but everyone now seems to be playing strategically; Eileen’s not playing, just watching with amusement, while her little sister uses Vince’s fondness against him. Peach gives him a doe-eyed pleading look, and when he starts to lower his weapon, she gives him a considerable cut by his collar. It’s not his first of the night, and after both the cut, and her underhanded tactics, he’s the first to bail out. Eileen takes him to the bathroom to be properly cleaned and bandaged, while Peach wears a smile so oddly reminiscent of thirteen-year-old Athena, triumphant. 

Mick appears to be biding his time, not challenging anyone, and no-one appears to want to challenge him, considering how unnerving he’s been acting for most of the game. Tommy and Charlotte end up challenging each other surprisingly often, and though he goes easy on her when he gets the upper hand, Charlotte still ends up with a collection of little wounds littering her skin; she can’t deny the adrenaline rush the arsenene game grants it’s players, maybe it’s why she hasn’t quit yet. 

Tommy’s holding his own against Lola and Nikki surprisingly well, and there’s no denying that the three of them are the worst off of the lot; Nikki and Lola challenge each other like it’s not a game involving knives, like it’s just a normal Friday, and Charlotte quietly thinks that there’s something deeply wrong with both of them. At least they go much easier on everyone else. 

“Alright, pay up, geezer, that’s four hundred you owe me,” Lola’s grin is all teeth when she turns to Mick, marking up the price for rent on her hotels, expecting him not to fight back. She’s been extorting him all game, and somehow he’s still playing. 

“I think you owe me four hundred,” Mick answers with a sharp little smile, sitting forward in the chair, finally holding his knife like a weapon. 

“Is that a challenge?” Lola should not be this excited at the prospect. Mick raises his eyebrows at her, holding out his hand.

“Unless you’re willing to just hand over that four hundred without a fight.” 

Lola’s on her feet in a flash, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready and waiting for Mick to stand and face her. She’s passing her knife from hand to hand, far too eager, but Mick simply takes in her stance, and throws his knife at her, aiming for her arm, as to not hit anything too vital. There’s not enough force behind the throw to leave the knife actually in her, but it leaves a considerable gash in her shoulder.

“I quit,” Mick announces, while Lola marvels at the wound with what seems to border on excitement, “I already know I can’t win,” he shrugged easily. Lola and Tommy both boo at him.

“Drummer, you’re not gonna win when two of the five remaining players get off on shit like this,” Mick says bluntly, “and it’s not you or your cousin.” Vince crows with laughter, but doesn’t disagree. 

When Tommy looks to Lola, she’s glaring at Mick while Nikki dresses her wound. 

“I can try,” Tommy musters all his strength, only for Charlotte to cut him down.

“No you can’t,” she practically orders, “yes that’s a challenge,” and she reaches over and cuts his palm before he can even react. It’s a dirty, underhanded move, but technically it’s not against the rules. “This game is stupid and dangerous.”

“No fair!” Tommy frowns, plucking tissues out of the quickly depleting box.

“Is that a challenge?” Charlotte raises her eyebrows at him, and Tommy sulks, but finally quits, cradling his hand to his chest, and concedes defeat.

It’s a stalemate; Peach is relatively unscathed, Charlotte has collected a handful of scrapes, while Nikki and Lola look like they’ve rolled through broken glass and loved it. 

“You know what?” Peach announces, looking between Nikki and Lola, and Charlotte, like she’s interrupted a standoff, before anyone else rolls, “I don’t need to be stabbed anymore today, ‘specially not by you guys.” And she puts her knife down, raising her hands in surrender. 

And then there was three. 

Charlotte looks to the other two, leaning into each other and smiling in a way that was more than a little sinister, looking a little like a pair of serial killers sizing up their next victim. If it were anyone else looking at her like that, she’s pretty sure she’d be overwhelmingly intimidated, but the only thing Nikki and Lola do better than give off a ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe to everyone else, is self destruct together. Which Charlotte is far too aware of to let it go unmentioned. 

“If I quit, will you two promise not to kill each other, and to never play this game again?” Charlotte asks, leveling her knife at the two of them. They share a look; Nikki shrugs.

“We do this shit for fun anyways,” Lola admitted, finally looking back at Charlotte, conceding, “we don’t need a game.” Vince groans like he’s just now realising the game was rigged from the start. Charlotte doesn’t really want to think about that too hard, instead focusing on the first half of her initial question.

“But if I quit -”

“We both win, we’re a team,” Lola snorted.

“You stabbed each other more than anyone else!” Eileen looks like she wants to hurl them both through the window, but is kind of afraid they’d enjoy it.

“I hate you both so much,” Charlotte sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. She deliberately sets down her knife, “I quit. Knife Monopoly is officially banned.”

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Come Into the Water (1/15)

Summary: Sarah, after a mental break, gets a fresh start in a small Northwestern town with a lot of secrets. (AVA/SARAH)

Warnings: Implied past rape, semi-graphic self harm, implied depression

The first box is the easiest.

Sarah sets it down in the middle of the floor and subsequently spends a few long minutes just staring out the slider as waves crash against the shore not too far away. Far enough that the high tide won’t attack her, but close enough for nothing to obstruct her view of the rolling blue under a sky of marine layer thick like the fog over her head. Bringing the box in was easy, putting it down is easy, but she’s suddenly confronted with the fact that she is not on a vacation, as eager as her mother had been to paint it that way. She gets it, in a way. Everyone would like to believe this is just a vacation, herself included. That’s what her old therapist had said, anyways. They’re still going to call every couple weeks, but she’s supposed to be seeing someone new in town twice a week.

All the boxes in the middle are a little harder, but the hardest is the last box because it forces her to confront the fact that everything she owns fits into only six cardboard moving boxes. One of pillows and blankets. One of towels. Two of clothes. One of plates, bowls, cups and silverware. And one of books and trinkets. Six boxes contain her whole life, or at least what she’s managed to salvage of herself. Sarah just looks at the last box, not bringing it in, while the movers supply her with freshly bought furniture courtesy of her mother. A couch, a dining room table, a few chairs, a bedframe and mattress, and a dresser are put in their places. Then the movers bid her a stiff goodbye and drive off, leaving her to numbly look at the box on the front porch in front of her.

In theory, it’s easy. Pick up the box. Carry it inside. Put it next to the others. It’s a little heavy, but nothing she can’t handle, in all honesty. She’d managed to build some muscle a few months ago, and while it’s begun to wither away, she’s still more than capable of carrying in the box. All she has to do is pick it up. Pick it up. Pick it up. Her hands are in her hair, pulling but not hard, yet. Eyes shut. The weight of her body is too heavy on her feet. Sinking into the concrete porch. Pick up the box. She just has to pick up the box. But instead, she thinks she might be crying. Wasn’t this supposed to be over?

The next thing she knows, she’s sitting on top of the box, pulling absentmindedly at the bandages on her forearm. However, absentmindedly has an implication of something peaceful. Habitual and familiar, absentmindedness is pleasant the way so many talk about it. A forgetful college professor rushing into class, a mother spreading peanut butter on her phone, a kid scuffing his shoe on the pavement. This is a different absentminded, the way her fingers dig into the edge of the white gauze and pull at it with fervor. But it’s still absent, still unintentional and without the awareness with which she has taken to approaching a great amount of her life lately.

She finds herself watching the sun fall into the horizon over the waves, and scours her mind for when she got here. It was morning, she thinks. The sun was low in the sky, the fog still drooling onto the land from the restless waves. Now the day has escaped her, and she’s torn open the first layer of bandages on her arm. For this very reason, there are three or four layers of spirals before her skin.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve been sitting there all day.”

Several things happen in the span of one second; Sarah’s heart skips a beat, her hand tenses on the bandages and rips another layer, her feet skid on the pavement in her effort to get up, and she bursts into frustrated tears. It’s too fast, or perhaps simply feels that way to her because the world has gone too fast lately. Breathing is a chore, the only one she seems capable of handling today, and for a few labored breaths, she stares at the stranger in front of her, a kind woman with rich brown skin, downturned eyes, and a low ponytail. She’s the sort of woman Sarah would like to trust.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the woman says. She extends a hand tentatively, the way one holds a hand to a dog to sniff before they try to pet it. “I’m Maggie, I live next door.”

“Sarah.”

With a deep breath, Sarah forces herself to shake Maggie’s hand. Her voice is as sweet as the caring expression on her face, one of a woman who has spent a lifetime looking after others. A nurse, or a daycare worker, or someone like that. Someone good. It would be so nice to know someone good instead of cutthroat, but the fear is there. She’s sizing Maggie up, she realizes. Trying to decide if she’d be able to overpower Sarah if she really wanted to. It’s a bad habit she’s supposed to be getting out of.

“Let me carry that in for you, and if you want, I’ve got leftovers in my fridge. We can eat together, or you can just take them. You could use them.”

Maggie picks up Sarah’s box, carries it inside, and sets it with the others. Heat sears into Sarah’s cheeks because she knows how it looks. Six measly boxes. Each labeled in neat handwriting, revealing how little of herself remains. She had been more, she thinks, at some point. But a lot of her died in an office packed with books and journals and photos of a daughter who had made it into the world. She is empty now. Her thumb digs into the center of her bandages. It doesn’t hurt, but she’d like it to.

“About dinner-”

“Thank you, but I really-  I can’t. Maybe another time?”

“Another time,” Maggie agrees. Her eyes trace Sarah’s face too closely. She wants to die on the spot just so Maggie will stop looking. “If you ever need anything, I’m just to the left, so don’t hesitate to come over. And if I’m not home, my wife probably is.”

“Okay.” 

With that, Maggie lets herself out and shuts the door gently, once again leaving Sarah alone surrounded by her miniscule life and furniture she didn’t pick out. She looks around the space and finds herself drawn to the slider again. Darkness edges in above the horizon, and she scrambles forward to close the cheap plastic blinds. They’re not perfect, but they block the window so no one can see in. She gets the kitchen window too and finds the switch for the light in the dining room, one of the only ones the house came with. It allows her the light she needs to tear open the towel box and grab one, a soft bath towel in a forgiving dark red. As of yet, she hasn’t gotten any soap or shampoo, a tooth brush, anything. But she goes to the bathroom anyways and spends a good five minutes figuring out how to turn on the shower and get the hot water she craves going. The crumpled towel earns a home on the toilet seat as she all but tears off her clothing. No laundry hamper yet, either. That’s fine. 

The hardest part of this is taking off her bandages to prevent them from being soaked and contracting an infestation of mildew or worse. She doesn’t want to look as she unwinds the cause and peels up the cotton pads, which join her clothes on the floor in a mess Sarah just doesn’t have the energy to deal with right now. 

Somehow, she’s staring at it. Most of her arm is healed, a splatter of dark pink skin that has scarred, but there’s plenty only beginning to scab from her most recent attack, if that’s what one were to call it. She doesn’t mean to, but when she’s anxious, caught in her head, upset, existing- she finds her right fingernails digging into the tender skin of her left inner forearm. Cutting her fingernails short, wrapping herself in bandages to protect her arm and its scabs, they’re supposed to help. 

She looks at the scabs for a long time before dragging herself into the water and letting it wash over her like it’s washing away her pain. The coating of school and stale white walls melt off of her, spiral down the drain, mesh together to remind her exactly what forced her into this otherwise quaint little cottage. It would be a nice home, had she picked it herself and come voluntarily. Perhaps she’d put art or photos on the walls, which would be painted a warmer color than the current murky dark green-grey-blue. 

When the water soaks through her curls to drizzle over her scalp, she comes back to herself.  As much as she can nowadays, anyways. There’s a thin layer of plastic sheeting between her mind and body, and no matter how hard she tries to break it, it stands impenetrable. Sarah wonders if it’s for the best. It protects her, at any rate. She’s better off on this side of the barrier, she tells herself, and turns off the water. Going out, she isn’t any cleaner; she didn’t wash her body or her hair- which isn’t even totally wet yet. 

Sarah wraps the towel around her, more as a blanket than anything to actually dry herself off. It’s soft, comforting around her. She checks, as she drags her exhausted body into the main area, that all the windows are covered so that anyone walking by can’t see her. So he can’t see her. Sometimes, invisibility feels like the safest thing in the world and she needs more of it than she could ever have.

She lays down on the floor, surrounded by her boxes, although she knows come morning she’ll regret it. It’s only fitting. Regret is the main emotion she deals with nowadays, when she manages to feel anything at all. Her eyes lock onto a little crack where the wall meets the trimming, thin and probably in danger of mold when she’s this close to the ocean. Her mother had said something about keeping the house aired out, but Sarah hasn’t listened to her in quite some time.

By the time she falls asleep, orange has begun to disrupt the sky outside.

-

Taglist: @bookreader525 @sextonsharpwinhalstead @sarahreeese @bipeteypie

[thatonegirljessy99]

Longing To Feel Love (3)

As BTS become more popular, your relationship with Yoongi is taking a hit to the point where you begin to feel alone even when he is in the room. What will it take for him to say enough is enough and open up to you.

Pairing: Y/N x Yoongi

Extras in this: Lu Han

Word count: 2,727

Warnings: Fluff mostly with a bit of wondering hands, nothing you need to hide from your parents.

 Yoongi had not been able to focus at all at the fan meet and greets or at the groups dance practice.

At the meet and greets he had accidentally called a few of the fans your name which only made them giggle and thank him for thinking they were as pretty as you He of course chuckled and played it off as a joke, not admitting that to him none of those girls could compared to how beautiful you looked when you walked around your home him just his flannel in the mornings with a coffee mug in your hands and your hair up in a bun. No makeup or effort required. He also kept looking over at his phone to see if you would even attempt to call or text him, which you normally didn’t when you knew he was busy or while you were at work. It got o bad that Namjoon who was sitting to the left of him ended up taking his phone and placing it in the pocket of his jacket, much to Yoongi’s dislike.

During dance practice he kept ripping over his own feet while executing sequences that would normally be very simple to any member of the group. By the end of the practice their choreographer had lectured Yoongi about having to work hard to pay more attention and trying hard her next time. Not that Yoongi payed any attention to him. By then he was tired and his mind had began to think of things that could have happened today with you and Lu Han.

She isn’t like that you idiot. She wouldn’t mess around with some other guy just because you’re-

“Suga! We are at your apartment! What is going on wit you today? You should be more concentrated on your act if you want to help the group become the best that it can be! We can’t have you dragging everyone down because you aren’t feeling it today! Tomorrow we only have studio time and dance practice so I expect to see your head back on properly by tomorrow when we come to get you!” the groups manager barked at Yoongi who only nodded and got out of the van fishing his keys from his pocket.

When he walked in he took off his shoes and looked around to see no one was home.

She works today after class. She should e getting back in an hour or so…

“Aish, I’ll just go ahead and take a nap and shower before she gets home so we can eat dinner together… 7… 8:30. Yeah that’s when she normally sends me a text she is home. I have an hour or so to sleep and wash up,” he mumbled while making his way to your bedroom and laying down on the bed.

He tried to get comfortable as his eyelids began to refuse his orders to open. And yet, even when he was sleeping all he could see was you with Lu Han, running into his arms as he pulled you into a tight hug and kissing you passionately. He saw as u Han gave you a bouquet of flowers before both of you getting into his car and driving away. It got to him so much that when he woke up Yoongi found himself sweaty once more. Looking at the clock, an hour had gone by so he knew that he should jump in the shower now before he got himself worked up.

You had just gotten into the house when you heard the shower begin to run making you smile slightly when you saw Yoongi’s shoes by the entrance. Having taken the bus home you felt the busy day begin to drag you down as you made your way through the house. Letting your bag fall onto the ground next to your bed, you stripped down to nothing before walking into the bathroom without Yoongi noticing.

His eyes were closed with his head tilted back as the water washed down over his body. The restroom was filled with fog from the hot water that was being used to try and relax Yoongi’s anxiety. Without a word you stepped into the shower behind Yoongi and wrap your arms around his waist, your head resting against his back after placing a kiss on his shoulder. No one said a single word, Yoongi only taking a deep breath as he placed his hands on yours and smiled lightly.

“Long day?” his voice came out soft as he tried to keep himself in check and not interrogate you right away.

“Not as long as yours but yeah. We had a lot of difficult customers at the shop today. But I got to see an old friend today,” you hummed into his skin before he turned around to face you.

He looked tired, more than normally. It made you worry about him because of how much busier their schedule had become in the group all of a sudden to keep up with fan demands. Your right hand found its way up to his cheek, your thumb rubbing small circles into his soft skin as you memorized his features. His eyes were trained on you, taking your right hand into his and kissing it softly before leaning his forehead down onto yours.

“I saw… Lu Han is back in town. Didn’t he leave so he could be away from SM? I don’t get why he has to be here now,” he scoffed looking off to the side.

“He is done filming and came to see me for a bit oppa. I haven’t seen him in almost a year,” you sighed knowing where this was all going so you did your best to stop it. You took his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you through the water droplets dripping from his hair,” it was just a car ride to work and gave me a flower. Nothing happened or will happen okay? You trust me right Yoongi?”

Your eyes were searching his for any sort of reaction. They were so hard as he tried to fight with his inner demons that were shouting at him that Lu Han being around was a threat. But just seeing you in front of him, looking like you needed him to believe you, his eyes softened.

“Of course I trust you Y/N. I’m not going to stop you from hanging out with a friend if you want to… just… please,” he couldn’t find what he wanted to say.

Don’t leave me? Don’t hurt me? Don’t go away? He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to smile at him lovingly and kissing him softly.

“I won’t as long as you don’t,” you assured him with a smile.

This was what he loved, you being able to hear what he said without him even saying a word. It was as if you were specially tuned to understand what he couldn’t form into words. You also called him by his name. It made everything seem more real to him and not some sort of act like in dramas or music videos where someone had a love interest.

That was all that was said between you two as you began to was each other, you humming absent mindedly as you both enjoyed this calm moment between you two. It was nice to have a moment where you two just enjoyed each other’s presents without shouting or crying.

Once you were both out of the shower, Yoongi helped you dry your hair carefully and lent you one of his black shirt to wear before you both decided to order dinner from a pizza shop in town. You both sat on the couch, with Yoongi sitting against the corner and his legs open so that you could sit between them and lean back against his chest watching Call Me Mother.

“I can’t believe people can treat a kid like that,” you frowned feeling your stomach tighten when you saw how the mother’s boyfriend treated the little girl in the show.

“Yeah, I would probably rather jump off a cliff than treat a kid like that man does. He’s just trash,” he agreed sighing,” let anyone touch your or our kids like that and let’s see where that get them.”

A giggle escaped your mouth as you thought of your boyfriend getting the rest of the guys after a man trying something on your child. It was funny to you because of how realistic that was. As the show went on Yoongi began to get text messages right when the pizza arrived. He quickly looked down at the phone and sighed when he saw it was a group message from Manager Kim. He really didn’t want to think about work right now so he just set his phone dawn and smiled as you walked up to him with the pizza in hand.

“Of my order of pepperoni pizza came with a sexy delivery girl, how nice,” he smirked taking the pizza box and placed it on the coffee table in front of you two then pulled you to straddle his lap.

“Oppa! I thought you had said you were hungry,” your giggled, your arms hanging over his shoulders with your hands running through his freshly washed hair.

“Mmm what if I want to have some dessert first?” he teased as his hands slipped from your waist to your ass causing both of you to laugh before you sat down once more in your original spot and handed him a slice of pizza.

You were both once more focused on the television when you heard a phone vibrating none stop. Without even thinking you reached to grab Yoongi’s phone and checked to see what was going on.

“Ugh! Please don’t tell me what Manager Kim is saying… I had a bad day and if this is him reprimanding me for it again I don’t care,” Yoongi huffed but you stayed quiet.

“Yoongi… you need to pack your bag. Some rookie group dropped out a set of interviews for a company in Japan so they called Manager Kim to get BTS on the open time slots and he said yes… you will be in Japan for the next four days and Manager Kim set up a few fan meet and greets while you are in Japan,” you spoke in a soft voice trying to keep a smile on your face.

Your heart felt heavy at the thought of Yoongi having to leave and being gone for most of the week. He was not very good at texting or calling you with most of the effort being done by you. But knowing that for your birthday left a bitter taste in your mouth, not that it was his fault.

“Y/A, come on, lets finish watching this episode and then we can go to bed,” Yoongi frowned seeing the messages over your shoulder.

Everyone seemed excited to be leaving tomorrow on a small trip because of the promise to have some down time while they were in Japan.

“Your plane leaves at six in the morning Yoongi. You need to go to bed now so you can be at the airport in time to get your flight. I’ll pack your things for the trip,” you smiled sadly getting up from your spot between his legs and putting your half-eaten slice of pizza in the box once more.

Once in your room you walked into the walk-in closet to retrieve the black luggage bag Yoongi took on short trips like this. Filling it with his things you added a small picture frame of you two among his shirts. It was one that you two had taken almost a year ago at an amusement park with Yoongi having his arms around you as you snapped a picture with him in front of the merry go round. You both looked so happy in that picture, it had been one of those days of that Yoongi had more of back then.

“Jagiya… come on, leave it. I’ll just get up early and pack everything myself, but come to bed with me. I know this isn’t the best time but I would like to at least go to bed with you before I leave,” Yoongi mumbled against your neck when he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you tightly so his chest was against your back.

“I already finished… I know what you normally pack...” you answered tilting your head to the side a bit feeling him begin to pepper kisses on your neck.

Feeling his warm breath against your skin made your skin begin to buzz. His hands slipped under the shirt you were wearing drawing small circles over your stomach as you pressed yourself against him a bit more. You could almost hear him grin at your reaction to his touch but it was no secret he could make your stomach fill with butterflies with the slightest touch after four years of being together.

You finally just gave in and followed him back to bed where he resorted to pulling you close under the covers. Your legs were tangled together with your arms curled against your chest and his arms around you protectively. You didn’t want to think about tomorrow and neither did he but both of you knew that it was inevitable. So instead of dwelling on the future you did your best to try and sleep before hearing Yoongi begin to sing for you. It had been a while since that happened, but you were not about to tell him to stop. It was a very welcomed surprise that you loved. He never sang any of their songs or rapped any August D songs, it was always some song that you listened to in the care and he just so happened to notice how you smiled at the words.

They were gone and you were now standing by at your house making coffee for one and mentally wishing you could give Manager Kim a piece of your mind. It had been maybe two hours since BTS had landed in Japan and you feed was already flooded with #BTSInJapan and #WelcomeToJapanBTS. Some girl had even taken a picture with the group and was able to kiss your boyfriend’s cheek only to tag you in it with the caption “@Y/Nofficial looks like Suga enjoy my kisses more than yours ;P”

Only being able to roll your eyes you put your phone down and heard your door bell ring making you smile.

Lu Han to the fucking rescue!

“I brought sugar donuts!”

Yup, to the fucking rescue.

“Don’t let that get to you Y/N, we both know how some fans can be. You have been in his game for just as long as BTS has been around so you can’t tell me this is a big surprise,” Lu Han chuckled while stuffing his mouth with a donuts.

“I know but it doesn’t stop bothering me! Did you know he got jealous over your snapchat video and yet I have to sit here and take it when his fans feel like being a pain in the a-“

“Y/A! Calm down! Look, it’s your birth week. Lets just have a good day today and worry about that loser later, did you get someone to cover your shift?” He asked looking at you.

“Yeah, the girl that I worked with yesterday said she needed the extra money anyways,” you nodded at him while sipping your caffeine,” So what should we do today?”

“I was getting the itch to spend some money and get some new clothing if you know what I mean,” Lu Han winked pulling out his wallet,” I think it’s high time I buy you a dress to replace to replace the one I ruined last time.”

“In that case lets go loser, I need to be ready for the next Gala I have to show up at,” your voice rang cheerfully though the room with joy reaching your eyes once more.

Oh Lu Han, leave it to him to be able to get you out of any slump you were in with clothing. Or at the very lease just get you mind away from your phone long enough for rumors to not reach your ears.

[werenzki]

Mitch Marner #5

Basically I thought about how it’s been too long since I’ve written about my baby mitchy so this idea came to me… also sos I’m dealing with a hardcore sunburn too!!!! I love summer!!!! :)))) 

Word Count: 2,600

"I hate my life," you groaned dramatically from the couch. Of course, the hotel you were staying at decided that leather couches looked better, and now you were even in more pain. Peeling off your sweaty legs from the leather, you whined some more from the pain. Never again were you laying in the sun without applying at least four layers of sun screen. 

"Huh?" Mitch looked up from where he gathering some cut up fruit in the fridge. You sighed and closed your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the burning of your skin. 

"My burns, you idiot!" You grumbled. 

"I did tell you to put on some more sunscreen," 

He did. But you were stubborn an thought one layer was good enough for the whole afternoon you'd be spending outside in sunny California. You were very very wrong. This happened to you nearly every year, you thought by now you'd learn your lesson - but you knew a year from now you'd make the same mistakes. 

"I know," you muttered while putting your hand on your shoulder. 

"Here," Mitch took a seat beside you while holding out a bowl of watermelon. Your favourite fruit. You smiled and took the bowl from his hands before placing it in your lap. 

"You know," you paused while chewing the piece of watermelon you had in your mouth and then turned to look at Mitch, "you didn't have to stay behind with me," you said. 

"It's just a dinner," Mitch shrugged while looking at your bowl of watermelon and taking a piece. 

"Well, knowing Sydney they'll end up doing something afterwards and I just feel, I dunno," you shrugged before continuing, "guilty, that you're missing out," 

"Well you're missing out too," 

You rolled your eyes and then felt the pain of the sunburn on your face, "well that's cause my own stupidity," you stated as the pain faded away. 

"I'm sorry, can you say that again so I can record it this time?" Mitch teased while holding up his phone. You shook your head and pushed his phone away with one hand while your other popped another piece of watermelon in your moth. With another eye roll, you chuckled with Mitch and then lifted up your tank top to see that your stomach was indeed red too just as you thought it'd be. 

"This sucks," you wined. 

"Maybe take a cold shower," Mitch suggested. 

"Honestly I feel like if I shower I won't want to get dressed again," you admitted while placing the nearly empty bowl on the table in front of you. But Mitch's idea wasn't all that horrible, the feeling of cool water would be nice right now. 

"Then don't," Mitch shrugged. 

"Okay, perv," you shoved his shoulder lightly before standing up off the couch. Mitch chuckled and shook his head at you. 

"I mean like wear a robe or something," 

"Fine," you sighed and made your way out of the common area of the hotel suite and into the bathroom. Inside was the fresh robe on the back of the door, Mitch wasn't always such an idiot, his idea wasn't horrible. 

Once turning on the shower, you got it to a temperature that wasn't too cold or too warm either. Standing in front of the mirror, you stripped off your clothes slowly and then stared at your reflection. The colour of your skin was just simply ridiculous. It went white to red in the outline of your bathing suit. And your face looked even more red than last time you had seen it too. You sighed again and then stepped into the shower. 

This trip was going well besides the sunburn though. When Sydney found out the team had their week off right after a game in San Jose, she was quick to plan a trip and of course you were invited wether Mitch wanted you there or not. Her words, not yours. But Mitch did seem to want you there, he seemed excited that you were here on the trip. Even though it felt as though you were treated more and more like a couple as the days went on. Regardless of the amount of time you had to correct, or remind, your guys friends and strangers were acting as though Mitch and you were dating. 

Not that that would be a bad thing by any means. In fact, you imagined what it'd be like to actually date Mitch on more than one occasion. But you were just friends. Best friends who fell asleep in on another laps or held hands during scary movies and knew everything there was about each other. To anyone else it would seem as though you were dating, you just weren't - and why was sort of a mystery to you. 

After you felt freshly rinsed off and shampoo was out of your hair, you turned off the water and got out. Even drying yourself off hurt, causing you to frown while you slide into the fluffy white robe. This freaking sucks, you thought as the frown stayed put on your lips and you walked out of the bathroom. 

Across the hall from the bathroom was your room for the week. While planning the trip, Sydney got her hands on the best suite Malibu had to offer for you Toronto folk. With three bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen and a living room with a killer 64 inch screen TV for the boys to watch the All-Star highlights on. Lucky for you, your best friend was a gentlemen, and let you have the bedroom while he took the couch. After grabbing your hair brush and putting your hair up, you grabbed the bottle of aloe and walked back into the living room. 

"It's not fair that you got tan and I got pink," you complained while rounding the couch and sitting beside Mitch. He was at least a shade darker than this morning that was for sure. 

"I put enough sunscreen on," he said, "unlike some people," he added in a low taunting tone. 

"I get it," you groaned and threw your head back, "I screwed up," 

"Yeah you did," Mitch chuckled. 

"Don't even start," you warned while pointing a finger at his smiling face. After seeing your reflection, you knew just how stupid you looked. Honestly you were surprised he hadn't been laughing in your lobster red face this whole time. 

"What?" Mitch chuckled. 

You threw the bottle of aloe at him and frowned, "stop laughing at me," 

"Sorry," he chuckled again, "but you're so red," he added while laughing again. 

You wined and closed your eyes, letting your body fall to the right till you were laying on top of Mitch. He let out a few more chuckles before quitting and lifting his hand up to your face. His cool fingertips barely touched the edge of your red skin, brushing through the baby hairs that had fallen from your ponytail. A familiar feeling of butterflies came to your stomach as you opened your eyes and kept your frown. 

"I'm actually in so much pain, like I'm not just saying this, I could cry it hurts so much, Mitchy," you exclaimed honestly. It was the truth, you were trying to play off how much the burns hurt but as you got more tired the less you could hold back. 

"I know," Mitch cooed while his eyes looked around your red face. 

You watched him as his gaze trailed down. Without looking you knew your robe had fallen off your left shoulder, exposing a little more skin than you had planned. He was probably looking at the horrid tan line from your bikini string, since you knew yours chest was still covered enough. No nipples had fallen out while you had sat down. 

"Sit up," Mitch nodded his head for you to move and get off him. "I'll rub the aloe on your burns," he stated as you sat up slowly. 

A tingle of nerves came over you at the thought of him rubbing the aloe over you. But instead of insisting you didn't need his help, you swallowed the lump in your throat and let your other shoulder be exposed. You held the robe at your chest, even though you weren't facing Mitch you decided to play it save. 

"Jesus, Y/N," Mitch murmured while you heard him open the bottle of aloe. 

You let your head drop, "yeah, I know," you muttered. 

"This will help," Mitch said before his fingers - with the cool aloe - touched your left shoulder. He was gentle, taking his time to put the gel over your burns, soothing them with his fingertips. 

Your mind went back to everything you were thinking about back in the shower. Dating Mitch. Would he even be interested? As he continued to rub the aloe over your red shoulder and upper back, you thought about just how much you wished he was. Mitch put some more aloe into his hands before working on the other shoulder. As each second went by, your brain filled up with more - naughtier - thoughts. 

"Done," Mitch mumbled before clearing his throat. 

You took a moment to clear your head, deciding to act rational, before turning to face Mitch again. With your robe still lazily being held up, you blinked at Mitch as he held onto the aloe and looked right back at you. Eyes glued to one another spoke louder than any words could. 

"You should put some on your chest too," Mitch said while looking down to where your chest had been burnt too. You swallowed and looked down as well, the robe laid just above your nipples. 

Inhaling slowly, you opened the aloe again and put some in one hand while holding the robe with the other. You were very aware that Mitch hadn't stopped staring at you, it was causing your heart beat to pick up. Once you were finished rubbing the aloe on your chest, you decided to take some more and rub it onto your face. Taking one more deep breath, you decided to break the silence between the two of you. 

"You think I'm good now?" You asked, voice just barely above a whisper. 

Mitch didn't reply, instead he continued to look your way. It made those stupid butterflies flutter again, and you to swallow the nervous lump in your throat. Then before you could think about how dumb you could be to think Mitch was interested, his hand was cupping your left cheek and his lips met yours. And as cliché as it may sound - it felt like all those stupid fairytales.

His lips were soft, feeling as though they fit perfectly with yours. As the kiss went on it felt as though your heart was about to burst while you head was spinning. If you'd known how amazing this felt, maybe you'd have got Mitch to treat your sunburns earlier. 

You two broke away only for a moment, "wow," you breathed. Mitch chuckled, his bright eyes found yours again, and his hand moved up to push back your wispy baby hairs again. You were biting down on your bottom lip while Mitch had this look in his eyes, one you didn't realized you liked so much till now. 

Bringing up both your hands - letting the robe fall - you brushed back his hair and brought your lips to his again. Teeth, tongue, lips, it was all there. And it was only heating up as you leaned back against the couch and Mitch leaned forward into you. While your hands grasped onto the back of his neck, bribing his body closer, his hands began to travel. The white robe you were wearing was pushed off almost completely, you lifted your arms to slip it off, as it stayed by your waist. 

"Woah, Jesus," the sound of Matt Martin's loud voice caused you and Mitch to snap back into reality. Mitch didn't waste a second before grabbing the blanket over the back of the couch and covering you. 

You were so embarrassed that you held the blanket right over your face. The shock seemed to pass as the rest of your friends all began to chuckle. Sydney tried to get Matt, Tyler and Molly to all settle down. While Mitch just rolled his eyes at them. 

"I mean, we all saw it coming," Sydney stated as you worked your arms back through the robe and looked up at the group of them. Mitch was sitting beside you, arm around you, while the other four watched around into the kitchen putting leftovers in the fridge and grabbing drinks. 

"Just maybe not like this," Tyler smirked while taking a sip from the newly opened bottle of beer.

"Can't say this is ideal for any of us," you muttered while sitting up and adjusting the blanket over your lap. 

"I'm gunna go use the bathroom," Mitch said before getting up off the couch beside you and walking down the hall. Tyler and Matt gave each other a knowing look, no one was clueless of Mitch's sudden departure. Sydney was quick to take the seat beside you though, passing you a glass of wine. 

"Sorry we interrupted," she smiled. 

"It's uh, fine," you nodded and took a sip of wine. "You guys are back earlier than I expected," you stated while fixing your robe. 

"We decided it wasn't fair to leave the two of you out," Sydney shrugged, "Molly suggested having some drinks and playing some card games," 

"Sounds like a good idea," you smiled as Molly took a seat on the chair beside you. 

"I'm just going to go change," 

"Good idea," Matt said while taking your seat. You rolled your eyes at him before padding your way down the hall and into your room. 

As you jumping into your pair of leggings, you fixed the strap of your bra and wiped around as the door opened behind you. Mitch walked in and closed the door behind him quickly. Your stomach twisted up, a sort of pit of nerves came over you as he stood there and licked his lips. You let out a light sigh and pulled the white t shirt over your head. Just as you tightened your ponytail, Mitch was right behind you and had his arm wrapped around your waist. 

You smiled as his lips barely grazed your neck. Then he placed a soft peck, on the oh so lovely tan line from your bikini, before you turned around and faced him. You stared into his eyes while his lips curled up into a smile. 

"So this is happening?" You questioned, bringing your hand up to toy with the collar of his black t shirt. 

"Should have happened months ago," Mitch replied. 

You chuckled and shook your head. Mitch smiled before kissing you again, and again, and again. Finally you had to get some self control and push him back with a from hand on his chest. Mitch gave you a questionable look, which made you giggle under your breath. 

"We should go back out there," you smiled, "drink some wine, some beer, play some stupid card games," 

"They're only stupid cause you always lose," Mitch stated before letting you go. You crossed your arms at your chest and narrowed your eyes at him. 

"I'm going to kick your ass tonight," you said. 

"You can try, babe," he said. The pet name rolled right off his tongue, and it sounded so normal that it didn't even phase you. Mitch was right, this should have happened months ago.

[artandteaandstuff-blog]

Strange Places - Part 7

Summary: Emma Swan is only just getting to grips with the whole fairy-tale thing, let alone the villains. She’s already defeated the Evil Queen. But the Evil Queen’s mother is a new story entirely. Not to mention Captain Hook. She will do whatever she has to do to take him out. Until one day she wakes up in an entirely different bed, only to find out she’s married to him. | Captain Swan.

Author’s Notes: THANK YOU @irishswanff FOR YOUR BETA-ING.

Tagging a few people who are/ were reading! If you want to be taken off this list or added to it, please let me know! Also I’ve lost track of who asked to me tagged so if I missed you, shout at me!!

@pottlock @killian_whump @silmarilswan @katromine @like-waves-on-the-beach@the-selfish-heart @galadriel26 @elaine-spades@blackwidownat2814@spartanguard @lifeismadeup-ofmoments@superchocovian @linda8084@georgianablythe16  @revanmeetra87 @swanslieutenant @swanandapirate @dreadpirateemma @ofshipsandswans @killiancygnus

FF.NET

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Too Much, Too Far

Hook cornered Emma in the kitchen after he dropped Lizzie off at school.

She was only just out the shower, hair loose and freshly dried, clothes soft against her skin. Other-Emma had a different fashion sense than her. She was more into soft jumpers and dresses, whereas Emma prefered a good pair of jeans and a tank top. She managed to get a good night’s sleep the night before, so she had woken early and bright-eyed.

Hook, on the other hand, didn’t look like he was faring so well. His face was pale with sleepless nights, his eyes bloodshot and tender. If Emma didn’t know him any better, she’d say he was heartbroken. That was the feeling she got from him every time he fixed her with those wounded puppy-dog eyes she was so unused to seeing.

“I have something to tell you, love,” he said.

She turned, in the midst of drying a plate, and raised her eyebrows in response.

“Now, bear with me…”

She didn’t like the sound of that. She turned to face him, folding her arms, battle stance at the ready. Was he going to tell her to stop with the questions? He hadn’t objected to them last night, but she could tell he was at breaking point, especially when she started quizzing him on their sex-life... and his villainy. They were touchy subjects. She made note to use them as button pushers later, when the occasion arose.

“What?” she asked. When she realised how hostile her voice sounded, she added, softer, “What’s up?”

“We’ve been invited out to dinner,” he said, grimly, watching her with those bright blue eyes. She looked away from his gaze, finding that it burned into her too much.

“Okay?”

“With your mother and father.”

“That’s it?” She almost laughed.

She noted the relief on his face. She thought it would be much worse, especially with the way he was acting. But her parents, she could handle. In fact, she could probably use them to her advantage. She smiled, unable to stop herself, and he caught it before she dropped her expression into something more neutral. He must have mistook it, for his own face broke out into a smile, and for a moment it was so blinding she couldn’t look away. She had never seen him smile like that, not once, not even when he flirted so shamelessly with her.

“I need to go and sort out the laundry,” he said, still smiling. He made his way to the door but turned just shy of it. “And Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Glad to see a bit of the old you.”

The twist of guilt in her gut surprised her.

So, it was settled. Lizzie, Neal and Archie were to stay with Belle, who took on her babysitting duties with enthusiasm. She turned up at the door a, little earlier than expected, to pick Lizzie up. Emma couldn’t notice how much happier she seemed. Nothing like the shy, closed-off Belle she had known back in the other Storybrooke.

“You’re alright having three of them sleep over?” Emma heard Killian ask.

“It will be my pleasure.”

Emma had yet to come down the stairs. She was perched at the top of the landing, listening to their conversation, and glimpsing Belle from around the corner. She hadn’t worked up the courage to go down the stairs yet, and she wasn’t quite finished getting ready but she wanted to hear what tales Hook spun when she wasn’t around. Was it just her he was fooling, or was it the whole town?

“Brilliant. Thanks again, love.”

“No problem,” she said, holding her hand out for Lizzie to take. “Have you said goodbye to mummy?” she asked her.

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah, I went upstairs to say goodbye. She’s getting ready.”

“I’ll give her your love,” Killian said to Belle.

“Please do.”

He gave his daughter one last wave before she disappeared down the path with Belle. When Emma heard the door close, she scrambled back into the bedroom, heart pounding in her chest.

She needed to finish getting ready. It wouldn’t do to be distracted. She caught sight of the jewelry she laid out on the bed for herself, and crossed the room to pick it up. Usually she wasn’t the jewelry type, but today she wanted to make an impression on Killian. It was all part of her game plan.

She laid out a glimmering necklace, a few bracelets, and earrings. They were all silver, sparkling in the light when she picked them up. She fastened her earrings first, pushing back her freshly curled hair. She’d been wearing her hair less curly recently, because she hardly had time to shower with all the monsters running about, let alone spend hours in front of the mirror. But she found she missed it, as she pinched a curl between her fingertips. It was reminiscent of a bail bonds Emma; someone who did whatever she had to to get answers.

That was who she needed to be tonight.

Perhaps that was why she’d decided on a tight black dress she found in the back of the wardrobe. This body was older than her normal one, but she still managed to pull it off. If she and Hook were really married, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her, and that would make everything run much more smoothly. She paired it with black kitten heels.

She was just about to go downstairs when a breeze wafted from the open window, straight to her bare legs. She felt the goosebumps rise and the cold run through her. Stockings would help that. Now, where would they be?

She started with the drawers, pulling them open, and peering inside. She thoroughly looked through panties, socks and bras, but she wasn’t able to find the stockings. She decided to try her luck on the lingerie drawer she’d found one of the first few nights she’d been here. She felt around, and found not stockings, but the red lacy panties and bra she’d come across before. As she pulled them out of the drawer, another thought struck her.

It would be bad…

But if it worked, it would be oh so useful…

Her lips curled into a slow smile. Yes, those would come very useful later tonight, but not until after the meal. He’d have a few drinks, and so would she, to get her confidence up.

Captain Hook really didn’t know what he was in for.

“Wow, Emma,” Hook said as she walked down the stairs, smiling at him in greeting. “You look beautiful, but we’re just going to Granny’s.”

She stepped off the bottom step. “Is it bad that I wanted to dress up?”

“You won’t find me complaining.” She noticed Captain Hook flashed in Killian Jones’ eyes.

When she held her hand out for him he looked at it, surprised, but she nodded. He took it. His hand felt strange in hers, and the feeling of his touch made her want to snatch it out of his immediately, but she pushed the thought away and smiled at him. She was going to have to be on her best behaviour if her plan was going to work.

For now.

 By the time they got to Granny’s, Mary Margaret and David were already there, sat in a booth. They smiled at them as they made their way in. David stood up immediately and took Emma’s coat, murmuring a, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Dav- uh, dad.” She cringed at herself.

She sat next to Mary Margaret, who she deemed safe territory. Mary Margaret smiled at her with glowing eyes, and handed her a menu.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, with a smile.

“A lot better, thanks mom.”

“Killian told us you were making more of an effort. I’m really glad to hear that, Emma. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

“I think you might be right.”

They order drinks. Hook decided on rum, no surprises there, and Emma ordered a big glass of red wine. She gulped down half of it as soon as the waitress set it on the table in front of her. She ignored everyone’s worried eyes on her, as she set it back on the table with a louder clink than necessary.

“Right, what are we ordering?”

Everyone ordered burgers. When the waitress came, Hook ordered onion rings for Emma instead of fries, and fixed her with a smile. She had to force herself to smile back, alarm bells ringing in her head. He knew her too well. They’d been married for years.

He knew her too well.

They were in the middle of waiting for the food when Emma decided to bring up the questions.

“Hook and I have found a way to beat the amnesia,” she said, gulping more wine. With everyone’s eyes on her, attentive and listening, she continued. “We’re playing 20 questions. Aren’t we?”

“That we are,” he said, taking a steady sip of his rum. His eyes were guarded as he watched her.

“So I might ask Hook some questions during dinner- and I might ask you some too, is that okay?”

“Of course Emma,” Mary Margaret said, reaching across to take her hand. She squeezed warmly. “We are willing to do anything to help you. Please ask us anything you think might help.”

“I will,” she said, suppressing her smile.

She decided to bide her time. She listened to Mary Margaret talk about Neal, and how he refused to do his homework, because -according to him- he was a prince and princes didn’t have to do homework. David rolled his eyes as he listened to his wife tell the story, interrupting to add that algebra is much less work than sword fighting or horse training, or all the other things a prince has to do to rule the Kingdom. Mary Margaret mentioned that she had to get through three thick volumes a week when she was learning how to be a princess. It taught her discipline and helped her realise the true sacrifices princesses have to make.

Emma tried not to seem bored by the conversation when, truthfully, it was a little out of her depth. She couldn’t imagine Mary Margaret as a princess, or David as a prince, and she didn’t want to. It all seemed so far away from her, and though she knew it was true, she couldn’t connect herself to the reality of it.

“I’m sure Neal will grow out of it,” said Hook. “He’s a smart lad. If it’s a sword fighting lesson he wants, perhaps I could teach him a few tricks.”

“Yeah, like how to play dirty, pirate,” David said, but the tone was playful. She was surprised to see the men exchange wide smiles, and it put her on edge. Who’d have thought they’d end up becoming such good friends? It sent a shudder right through her.

Only when the food arrived, did Emma put her plan into action. She waited until everyone had cut into their burgers before she got out, “So, what do you guys think of our marriage?”

David swallowed a mouthful. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think it’s happy?”

Mary Margaret and David exchanged looks, before she too swallowed her own mouthful. “Haven’t you asked Kill-”

“Yes, but I’m asking you. I don’t think Ho- Killian would lie.” She directed a forced smile at Hook, who had become very still. “But I want your side of it. Please understand, I’m trying to piece all of this together. I can’t do that if you won’t help me.”

“Of course you’re happy, Emma,” Mary Margaret said. “I’ve never known a couple so in love, or so trusting as you two.”

Emma somehow found that hard to believe, but she nodded along nevertheless, and took a bite out of her burger. Despite how ever many years seemed to have passed, it still tasted exactly the same as she remembered. Same recipe or… magic?

She decided to ask simpler questions, rather than reel out the big one she planned to ask. She asked them how often they come around to the house.

“Every week, of course!” said David. “Though, not in the mornings anymore. Not since we walked in on you making -uh - pancakes.”

According to David, Neal slept over at her house a lot. According to Mary Margaret, he loved his Auntie Emma, who managed to make him smile more than anyone else. Emma found that hard to believe too. She couldn’t even keep hold of her own kid, how would she be able to charm others?

She wanted to know how she suddenly came to trust them so much, and when she started to call them ‘mom and dad’, but she didn’t want to offend them, so she kept her mouth shut about that. It was only when they were halfway through dessert - strawberry and lemon cheesecakes - that Emma decided to bring out the harder questions.

“So dad,” she said, with a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, “How come you let me marry Captain Hook?”

His smile faltered, but only for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Were you happy with that?”

His eyes flickered over to Hook and back to Emma, his smile growing wider. “Of course I was. I love Killian. I couldn’t have picked a better match for you myself- of course, not that we pick matches here, not since the Enchanted Forest.”

Her smile remained plastered to her face. That was not the answer she was hoping for. She didn’t want to have to do it, but she was going to have to up her game. They had forced her hand.

“So you really don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind what?”

“That I married a pirate?”

Hook gave a small cough. She looked over to him. His eyes were unreadable. “I think we all know I’m not that man any more.”

“Do we?” The stare she fixed him with was unblinking. She turned back to her parents. “I mean, do you really believe he just woke up one day and changed? You’re heroes. And he is- was- a villain.”

“What sort of heroes would we be if we didn’t believe people could change?” Mary Margaret asked, gently. “Your father and I, we’ve done things we’re not proud of-”

“But I doubt you’ve killed countless innocent people,” she said. She finished off her glass of wine. She needed her courage for her next words. “Come on, dad. How do you really feel that that hand- the hand that so gently brushes hair off my face-”

“Emma, don’t do this,” Killian said. She didn’t even look at him.

“-Or that hand, that have so softly touched-”

“Emma!”

“-have also ran a sword through innocents, hell, for the fun of it. How does it make you feel that your little girl married a man who ripped wives from husbands?”

“Emma, please,” Hook’s voice was pained, but she wasn’t falling for it.

“-who ripped fathers from their children?”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret shouted.

She finally looked into her parents’ faces. They were red, but that wasn’t what got her. They were looking into her face like they didn’t know her at all. They shook their heads, but she didn’t let it get to her. She couldn’t.

She threw down her napkin and rose from her seat. Without uttering another word, she turned and left Granny’s, out into the cold. No-one called after her, even though she half expected them to. She gulped down cold air, sighing as a breeze hit her warm skin. She needed the air to think, to clear her head.

She wondered if they were talking about her, shaking their heads, muttering how she's not the Emma that they know and love. Good, she thought savagely. Maybe then they’d realise that she’s not the real Emma, and send her back to the real Storybrooke, instead of keeping her at this God awful hell of a place.

She heard footsteps behind her. And of course when she turned, Hook was right there, closing the distance between them in a matter of strides. His eyes were dark, and his expression was still unreadable. She turned away from him, and out into the street, folding her arms. He came to stand beside her. He didn’t speak for a while. The only sound was the crickets’ soft chirping, and the faint sound of music coming from the diner. Finally, he spoke.

“What do you want me to do, Emma?”

She turned away from him, away from his gaze which was so uncharacteristically patient, and kept her own gaze fixed on the street. He sighed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

 The journey was silent. Emma didn’t utter a word to him, and he didn’t utter a word to her. She wondered why he didn’t try and make conversation with her, or ask her what that was all about, and then she would tell him that the only way she would stop would be if he promised to help her get back to the real Storybrooke. But he didn’t speak.

They went their separate ways when they returned to the house. Killian went straight into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of a bottle hitting the side, and liquid being poured in a glass before she continued on up the stairs.

She had intended to kick off her heels, to get into her pajamas and go to sleep, but the red garments on the bed caught her eye and she remembered the next part of her plan. She smiled as she picked up the lacy red bra.

Let’s see what kind of man you really are, Captain.

 It took all of her courage. Three times she made it out into the hall, and ran back into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, talking herself into it. She needed to do this tonight, if she was going to do it at all. Lizzie wasn’t here, which made it the perfect opportunity.

She stood back up. She’d swapped her black heels for some red ones, to match the lacy undergarments she wore. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. The red stood out against her creamy skin, and it did wonders for the golden tones in her hair. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at her reflection.

She was Emma Swan. She wasn’t scared of anything. And she definitely wasn’t scared of Captain Hook.

She made her way down the stairs, slowly, in her heels. He was no longer in the kitchen, but in the living room. He was sat on the sofa, his back to her as he looked into the fire, like something out of a storybook. His hand was clasped around a glass of rum. She watched as he brought it up and took a long, slow sip.

She leaned against the door frame, placing one hand on her hip, the other against the door.

“Well, hello there Captain.”

He jumped out of his seat and turned around. His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he took her in. “Bloody hell, Emma?”

“What do you think?”

She watched as he stood up, glass left forgotten as he approached her, eyes still wide.

“What do I think?”

She almost rolled her eyes. Almost. But instead, she sauntered forward, swaying her hips, borrowing some of that confidence she seemed to possess during one night stands. The idea was to seduce, not be vulnerable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

She came to a stop in front of him and touched the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move away from her, but he didn’t take her in his arms like she thought he would. He stared at her, expression torn, eyebrows knit together. She dragged her hand from the collar down his chest, skimming over the buttons.

“Emma…” he warned.

But she continued her path, right down to the bottom of his shirt. It was a move that always worked, especially when she slowed the trail of her hand.

“Don’t you want this?” she asked, blinking innocently up at him.

He caught her hand. “Emma,” he warned again, though there was something in his voice. It was deeper. There was an edge to it. She smiled.

“C’mon.” She leaned in and whispered, “What do you say?”  

The pause was long. She didn’t like being so close to him- it put her on edge. His face was so close to hers, she could see each individual tiny hair on his chin. She could smell the sweetness of the rum coming off his tongue, and something else, perhaps a sea salt shower gel. She hadn’t been nearly this close to him since they were on the beanstalk and he’d bandaged her hand.

“No,” he finally said.

“No?” Her tone was laced with surprise. “What do you mean “no”?”

“I won’t take advantage of you, not when you’re like this.” He moved a hand up to stroke hair from her face, but she flinched away from his touch. “You won’t even let me touch you like this, Emma. How am I supposed to make love to you?”

No, that’s not the answer she wanted. She hadn’t intended to sleep with him, but get him to try it on with her, so she could prove what she’d already known; he was a villain, and always would be. There was a quick jolt of shame, but she pushed it away and inched forward to him.

“Oh c’mon.”

She leaned in for a kiss, but he caught her by her shoulders. His jaw was set, his eyes stern. “No.”

She caught him by his collar and pulled him towards her with all the force she could muster, crashing her lips to his. They both stumbled before regaining their balance. His lips were soft- softer than she had imagined- but when she tried to move her mouth with his, there was no response. He gently but firmly pushed her away, and though she resisted, he was too strong for her.

“Emma, please don’t do this.” The look he gave her was earnest. “I know you do not want to do this.”

“Look, you’re an attractive man. A girl has needs.”

She moved to kiss him again but he placed a finger on her lips. She looked up at him and for a second he seemed to be amused, his eyebrow quirking up.

“I knew you’d come around eventually love,” he said, and his tone was teasing. “But I really don’t think this is the best idea.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“I’ve told you why not. I- can’t. That’s not who I am. Not any more.”

She scoffed. “Yeah right.”

Then all at once his face moved from gentle, kind and patient to dark in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t anger exactly, but pain, and it cast a shadow over every one of his features. He took a step back from her.

“That’s why you’re doing this,” he said, with quiet realisation. “You’re trying to see what kind of man I am. I thought that perhaps- perhaps you were remembering, perhaps a part of you missed-” He shook his head. “But you’re playing me. That’s what the questions are about, aren’t they? You’ve not been forthright with me. You’re not trying to remember. You’re manipulating me.”

He looked at her, waiting for her to deny it, but she couldn’t. For some reason, she couldn’t lie to him.

“What do you expect me to do?” she finally asked. “Huh? You won’t help me. What am I supposed to do?”

“I expect you to come to me.”

“I did come to you. And, in case you’ve forgotten, you refused to help me.”

His face changed from stony back to gentle. He took a step towards her, voice soft as he said, “Emma, I am trying to help you. I promise. We all are. I just want you to rememb-”

“I haven’t forgotten anything!” she shouted. She hadn’t intended to lose her temper, but she knew if he said the words ‘remember’ one more time, she was going to lose it. And suddenly, it was like she couldn’t stop, and words were pouring out of her. “All you care about is getting the “old Emma” back, like I have amnesia. Well guess what? I don’t. And you won’t even entertain the possibility that what I’m saying might be true. You’ve convinced yourself that I’m wrong without even listening to my side of the story. You- and the rest of my family- are all hearing what you want to hear.”

“Emma-”

“How would you feel if one day you were arresting Captain Hook for shooting someone, another living human being who has done nothing wrong. He looked me in the eyes and he told me that he didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got his revenge. Then suddenly, later that day, I’m married to him? The villain, Captain Hook?”

He clenched his jaw. “I told you, I’m not that man anymore.”

“Then I don’t know who you are, because you clearly don’t care enough about me to help me. And I feel sorry for this Emma who you claim is your wife.”

“How do you think I feel?” he shouted.

She scoffed and folded her arms.

“My wife woke up one day and suddenly she’s not my wife anymore. She refuses to look at me because she finds me repulsive. She is frightened of me.” He takes a step towards her. “I cannot hold her. I cannot even talk to her, because she is under the impression that I am a villain.”

“You shot Belle!”

“I am not that man any more,” he bellows in her face. “I know who I was. I know what I did. Do not think for one second that I’ve forgotten.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s so hard to comprehend, Emma?” He stalks towards her now, and she steps backwards with him. “Yes, I was a villain, but I confronted my past, and I learned from it. I changed for the better, and that was all because of you.” He takes a breath, and she thinks he’s done but then he says, “You changed too.”

Changed? She flinched.

“I didn’t- don’t need to change.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, softly now. “You were closed off. You put yourself before others. Your walls were so high, you couldn’t even see over them yourself, let alone break them down.” He paused, studying her face. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you are not my Emma. My Emma is open. She’s caring, selfless, but most importantly, she is open to love.”

Emma wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold, suddenly very aware that she is hardly wearing a thing. Goosebumps rise on her arms.

“Well there’s one thing I don’t buy,” she says, without looking at him.

“What’s that?”

“I could never and would never love you.”

The tension in the air was thicker than it had ever been. She expected him to shout at her, to tell her to get out, to revert to his usual ways, but when she looked up at him, he was not even looking at her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

“Fine,” he said, so quietly, she wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“What?”

“I said fine. I’ll help you. Starting tomorrow, we will work out a plan, and we’ll get you back to wherever you bloody came from.”

He strode past her and out into the hallway. She heard his footsteps thunder up the stairs. The guest bedroom door slammed shut. Emma stood there for some time, arms wrapped around herself.

She had gotten what she wanted. So why was it that she felt like she hadn’t won at all?

[3one3]

The Sequel - 865

A Joint Thing

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Stop. You don’t even have to give the speech. I don’t want to talk about it. Tomorrow, yes. Not now.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to send hay and grain for the horses and livestock affected by the hurricane in Texas. The flooding is so bad. Did you eat? I had a strip steak because I was starving. I got one for you too though. If you want it. It only takes a few minutes on the grill.”

I want 20 things and none are a strip steak, no matter how superbly she could probably cook it, André rued after Christina nodded at the mostly empty plate beside her Macbook in the study. There was one piece of broccoli left on it alongside some discarded fat. It was Saturday night, and he just got home from the match, and he pretty much hated everything until that very moment. How sweet is she. Does her two hours at the stadium to see me play like the Invisible Man for 55 minutes and then makes herself dinner for one, to eat while she works on helping abandoned or homeless animals. And she has that face like her mind is going hundreds of kilometers a minute to figure out what to do or say to me to erase that I am currently useless on the football pitch and hurt all the time.

“I had dinner in the ice bath. Who are we helping? One organization or a bunch of little ones?” The player walked the rest of the way into the cozy study decorated primarily with books, and pushed the back of his chair from one side of the partners’ desk to the other so that he could sit beside his girl and see what was on her screen. She slid over a bit to her left, and then leaned back over to the right to kiss his cheek. If not for the distraction of the coverage of the hurricane drowning greater Houston under an unprecedented tonnage of water, Christina would have been totally consumed by her sympathy for her partner and his frustrating struggle to show his quality and worth at the Westfalenstadion. He was simply a body to bounce the ball off now and then during his minutes that evening. The whole team was rather slow on the ball, and one-dimensional. André couldn’t make or take any chances, and he seldom even had the opportunity for nice interplay with his black and yellow teammates. The three points were secured for the home side, and their #21 didn’t do anything costly or embarrassing, so it wasn’t a complete loss, but he looked and felt irrelevant and disappointing. His girl wished she knew how to help him turn it on again, or even just how to get on the right path to it. Injuries and good form by others meant it had been nearly a year since he enjoyed an uninterrupted spell in which to build and flourish. His struggle was breaking her heart, and demolishing his spirit. Her instinct was to make him talk about it instead of brush it off for “tomorrow”, but she knew what it was like to be in his shoes too, and knew he needed a cool-down period before it was worth encouraging him to share his burden with her.

“That’s what I’m trying to decide. The ASPCA is doing a lot but I’m not sure if they’re doing livestock or just pets. USEF has a fund going just for horses. I’m looking for, like, if some group is taking in otherwise homeless horses and caring for them while their owners can’t. I’d like to send supplies. I don’t like just giving money to those big groups because I don’t know how much of it actually helps the animals, or how long it takes.” The horsewoman moved her dinner plate aside so that she could lean on her elbow on the desk and sigh while André scrolled through the pictures she found on Twitter.

“Why don’t you make a post saying that you’d like to help, and see who responds? It shouldn’t be too hard to verify and not get scammed. Your Twitter has a big reach,” he reminded her. “I’m sure people will tell you who is doing what.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m going to need someone who knows what’s going on and where I can even get hay and grain sent from, and how to get it to whoever needs it. I emailed someone I know at USEF to find out what they can tell me. I’ll wait to post until I hear back from her. Hey, are you sure you don’t want anything?” Christina watched him watch a rescue video on the screen, and reached for his fuzzy cheek with the back of her hand. He turned and offered a small but reassuring smile.

“We had pasta and chicken. I’m not hungry, Prinzessin.”

“Do you want anything else? Couch? Bed? Fire pit? Movie downstairs?”

“Didn’t you want to begin your Game of Thrones education tonight?” the footballer yawned.

“Yes but actually I want to save that for tomorrow because it’s supposed to rain aaaaalllllllll day and Lukas has a playdate at Nuri’s- all the kids do- I think it’s someone’s birthday but I forget- and so it’s the perfect afternoon for us to get embedded on the couch and watch a bunch of episodes at once. I even made watermelon salsa for the whole grain tortilla chips.” Christina blinked at him with big, round, welcoming blue eyes, and just that little hint of hopefulness in them- her hope for him to be into her plans- was enough to help him feel just that little bit better about everything. Instead of expressing excitement about her Sunday agenda, he decided to tease her.

“You’re sending him to a birthday without a gift?” he asked with mock incredulity.

“Tugba only just told me about it at the game!”

“Did you get to tuck him in?”

“No,” she frowned. “Espen said he watched most of the match though. He made you something today,” Lukas’ mom smiled back. “It’s upstairs. Want to see?”

His dad nodded and followed her to the master bath, to check out the little platinum blonde’s art project. It all started when Espen arrived for work with a tie-dye kit and some cheap t-shirts. She was joining some new friends from her apartment block on a sort of bar crawl/drinking scavenger hunt that would stretch from brunch into the evening. It was a team competition, and her team was all going to wear tie-dye shirts. The others were getting together on Saturday to make theirs but since she had to work she just got her own supplies and made it into a fun activity to do with Lukas. Christina couldn’t resist joining in. They filled horse buckets with the water and dye and taught Lukas how to bunch up the shirt and add the rubber bands. After he saw the results on a his-size shirt, he wanted to make one for Daddy. It had to be yellow, because his “Daddy shirt” was yellow. Espen showed him how to draw on the adult-size white tee with fabric markers before they prepped it for the dye. He attempted a dinosaur and several humans of varying sizes and proportions. They weren’t all entirely recognizable as people. The finished product looked like a terrible children’s doodle made into a shirt instead of refrigerator art. He wanted to put it in the dye twice to deepen the yellow hue per Espen’s recommendation, so Christina hung it in her shower to dry because the dark tiles wouldn’t get stained.

“I think you should let him give it to you in the morning,” she explained to the lucky recipient of the haute couture piece. “He’ll be so proud and happy.”

“You think? Wouldn’t he like it if I just wear it?” André loved his ugly shirt. He loved that his son thought of him when he wasn’t around, and wanted to make him something.

“You can wear it after he gives it to you. I think you’ll look sexy in it, babe.”

“For some reason yellow doesn’t do for my eyes what it does for yours.” He pointed a cheeky smirk at his girl while holding the shirt up to his body.

“It’s really not your color.” She wrinkled one side of her nose and shook her head, and inadvertently reminded him of the things he didn’t want to talk about. I never look good in yellow. That’s the truth, he huffed inside. BVB shirt on, all talent, composure, and intelligence, gone. I just look like a jackass. “We tried to make it a darker, more flattering shade for you.”

“Mhm. Should I put it back in the shower? It seems dry.”

“I think it’s fine. Why don’t you put your bag away and stay awhile?” The rider winked at the dejected player and then wandered out of the bathroom and onto their bed. It was freshly made in clean linens, and too inviting to simply be walked past. There was nothing else to do in the house besides hover around André anyway.

“Where is your tie-dye shirt?” he asked her from his closet.

“In a drawer. It’s rainbow colored. I’m like a tie-dye pro.”

“Are we going downstairs, or outside, or bed, or what? What should I put on right now?”

“I dunno I don’t care.” Hola Juanin, Christina thought as her sweatpants pocket vibrated. It wouldn’t have been anyone other than the Spaniard. He played 74 minutes and assisted the match-winning goal, and she was waiting for him to respond to her congratulations text.

“Thanks. We played well. Who is it going to be with this time?” he wrote back. Her message also mentioned her desire to do another Dirk video, with a new artist, whose music she discovered only that afternoon, sort of.

“You know the song I played for you that sounds like its straight out of 1983 and I said I thought it might actually be brand new and not from Miami Vice? The featured artist on it is two guys called Oliver, because they’re both Olivers, and they’re DJ’s and producers and I heard their album that just came out and it’s AMAZING. You’ll prob love it. Add it on Apple. “Electrify” is my fave,” the rider told him with several dancing girl emojis.

“Why can’t you pick someone I already know personally and have a relationship with? Don’t you like any Kygo songs?” Juan’s feigned exasperation was audible in his digital words.

“Who says I want you to produce the video again?”

“Your mom.”

“We’re invited to a nightclub party in Milan on Saturday night with Rafa people. It’s not all night tho. Do you wanna?”

“I don’t know. That’s a week from now.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I had dinner with Paula. I’m home now. Bedtime for Juan.”

“Are you still hanging out with Taylor tomorrow?”

“I put sweatpants on because you have sweatpants on,” André shrugged on his way over to join his girl on the nicely made bed. She was upside down and tapping away on her phone. “Watcha doin?”

“Nothing.” Christina barely got the word out before the other player’s next message arrived.

“Yes.”

“Coming in hot.” The BVB midfielder crawled over her and literally just collapsed on her body, trapping the phone and her hand under his shoulder. “Ahh, yeah. Comfy.”

“Ugh, you weigh a ton. Why are your bones so heavy? There’s no fat on you to weigh this much.”

“Stop complaining,” he ordered before reluctantly scooting down some so that their parts lined up slightly better. He took the phone from her hand and set it on the bed, and then put both of her hands down at her side, out of the way of his elbows. Then he dropped his head down for a quick smooch. “Thanks for coming to the match.”

“Why do you still thank me?” Christina laughed. “I will never get that. I’ve been going to your games for almost 7 years. I was going to them even before that too. You just didn’t know it.”

“Because I’m still thankful that you support me. And that you support me at home too even after I play like crap.”

“You’re a hero to me and your son whether you score a hat trick, an own goal, or an award for doing absolutely nothing of note for an hour.” She couldn’t help but tease a little. It was totally fine with him because her teasing smile was very nice to look at. He bent down to kiss her again, a little slower, and then petted her forehead and some of her hair.

“I guess you weren’t paying attention when I gave the ball away and we almost lost a goal.”

“No I was, but you didn’t even do that well enough for them to actually score, so...doesn’t count.”

“Nice.”

“In all seriousness, was something hurting? You weren’t moving so good.” Christina held onto his waist and enjoyed his freshly showered smell. It was clean and manly and evoked all of the things inside a female that tell her to notice a male.

“Not really, but you’re right. By the end I wasn’t moving well.”

“Do you need a butt massage?” She slid her hands down over his behind and gave it a demonstrative double squeeze.

“You mean you have time for an ass that isn’t Jon Snow’s? You’ve found a way to include it in every other conversation for two days. Who is that?” His attention was diverted before he could list all the times she managed to work Kit Harington’s perfect ass into conversations. Her phone vibrated again, and lit up.

“How should I know? I can’t see it. Duuhhhhh.”

“Duhhhhhhh.”

“You’re crushing my liver or something. So you’re lucky you smell good.” And...meh. As the Olympic medalist inhaled some more eau du manly man, several threads converged in her head and dampened her mood. She spent much of the pre-match festivities with Zoe, and Nuri’s wife Tugba, talking about her new interest in Game of Thrones, and how it spawned from “that love scene” everybody was on about. The girls had so much to say and not just about Jon Snow’s wonderful, Fibonacci sequence-aligned bum. The other two knew more than the rider about the series, so they had more perspective on the significance of the love scene, but she could still testify to the powerful and meaningful emotions that were fueling it. It was obvious. The scene was about love, not sex. Zoe told her it was one of the few sex scenes in the whole story that portrayed the act as something loving instead of brutal and animalistic.

She also got wistful and fanciful and longing in talking about “that kind of love”. Marco’s girl asked, rhetorically, how amazing it is to have sex like that- to be so enamored, and so deeply in love, and so “so”. It was a struggle for her to even put a label on it. Tugba was all about it too. Nuri’s wife knew exactly what Zoe meant, and so did Christina. Unfortunately, thinking about the “oh my god, star-crossed lovers finally together, they need each other, they need to make love to fully experience it” sort of love just made her realize that she never had that with André anymore.

As Juan’s texts piled up on the phone next to her head, she felt uneasy inside. He was the one with whom she experienced that sort of love. He was the one she longed to be with that way. The girls also talked about other kinds of love, which they deemed good but not as singularly rewarding, satisfying, and special. André ticked the boxes for her for “when he’s so hot or handsome and you just need him” love and “casual, flirty” love, and “when you wake up Sunday morning and love each other” love. The player’s wives called the rarity of the other sort of love bittersweet, because they wanted to experience that encounter more often but recognized that it would be diminished with greater frequency. Zoe even said it was a “two handful” life experience, meaning one would only experience it maybe 10 times in a lifetime. So Christina logically shouldn’t have been that alarmed by the realization that she and her partner hadn’t had a night like that in some time, or that she wasn’t feeling that way about him. But she wasn’t sure that Zoe was right. It seemed like she thought of Juan that way all the time, and they had “Jonerys-level” sex multiple times just that summer. Sniffing her husband and feeling attracted to him on that most basic level of desire was disappointing for her, because it just reinforced everything she thought of in hospitality with the girls.

“Do you want me to move?” André offered when he noticed that her expression went flat for too long for her just to be kidding when she said he was lucky to smell good. It was like she frowned to go along with the banter but then just never smiled again or re-engaged.

“No. But...do you still...do you ever feel like you love me so much that you need to love me, like, physically? I mean- Not- Like- Like when you want to literally make love. You want to be together because of just...love. Not because you want to get off, or because I look good or whatever, or even like when you’re obsessed with being with my body for a while. I mean make love like the night before you went to Brazil, and our wedding night, and the first time we were together post-separation when it wasn’t weird anymore. When you look at me and I actually look back.” Christina regretted opening her mouth with every additional word she piled on to try to make herself clear. Her face was pink by the end, and she was hoping to disappear into the mattress somehow.  

“How many times did you watch the scene with his butt? You are so obsessed. Let it go, Prinzessin,” André chuckled. “You get so hung up on films and shows. Life doesn’t have to be that dramatic!”

“Never mind the show. Do you know what I’m talking about? Don’t you-“

“I wanted to be with you like that yesterday and you didn’t feel the same.” Why is she asking me this, he wondered. Why does she fool around when I want to be serious, and get serious when I’m just whatever. Why does she watch and read love stories and then have to live them the same?

“No that’s not the same, babe.” The rider shook her head and peered up at him with almost something like urgency. “I’m talking about when we’re both feeling exactly the same way. It’s a joint thing. It can’t happen to just one.”

“Well wouldn’t you know then? If it has to be both of us then you know all the times,” the player sighed. He just didn’t want to be having that conversation. He wanted to go back to enjoying her face and her casual conversation. She sighed too, but inaudibly, and nodded. His answer illustrated a good point. There was no point in asking him if he experienced something recently that she didn’t when the experience was dependent on them both. So it wasn’t just Christina that wasn’t feeling it. It wasn’t just that she had Juan as an alternative. The other half of the equation was messed up too. She wanted to know why, but didn’t know how to find out. He lifted his head to look at nothing across the room- an inadvertent but indicative gesture that put more space between their faces. His girl didn’t know how to even go about finding out her answer without aggravating him further.

“Okay.”

“Has anyone told you the guy with the ass and the girl with the braids are brother and sister? And that he’s a bitch? He would be the guy who listens to Drake and cries over girls. It’s just a TV show, Chris. Real life isn’t supposed to be comparable.” He was still aggravated anyway.

“Can you get off me if you’re going to talk to me like I’m an idiot?” So was she. He flipped over onto his back next to her for a second and then did a sit up and shifted around to lean against the headboard. She rolled onto her stomach and picked up her mobile.

“Goodnight baby girl.” He says with a red heart. Honestly, why do I fight to be in love with a man I love dearly when it’s no struggle at all to be in love with the other man I love? Seriously. Why? Why do I do this? Schü and I treat our relationship like it’s a project we’re working on, or like a patient with a whole bunch of problems and we don’t even know if he’s going to make it. I just love Juan. That’s it. That’s all there is to say. I don’t have to try. He doesn’t talk about us like we’re a work in progress. He realistically COULD do that, because I know he sees us being together in the future and it must seem like we take steps toward and away from that at times, but he doesn’t. Why do we do this? I don’t even know anymore. The old answer was that I wanted us to be together, and I wanted to keep our family together. I used to say that just because something is hard doesn’t make it not worth it. I need a drink before I get upset.

“Where you going?”

“Water.”