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#a different table when theres no more room first to have to walk on the grass or the street when theres no room to stand together
saltofmercury · 1 year
Note
that break in post was adorbs 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 if ur reqs r closed just pls ignore this (except for the first part, ur writings gorgeous) but can i req an actual breakin scenario :o like w angst maybe- maybe going further in with reader’s feelings toward konig and his “different persona” after all that happens during an actual break in when theres genuine danger
thank u!!
“The Intruder”
Summary: An intruder comes into the house with König is home with you.
A/N: let me know if I hit or missed!
It had been over 4 months since the raccoon incident. The break-ins had stopped around your apartment, König had felt better with you staying at his place. Everything seemed to go back to normal again.
During this time, König had left on a small mission, returning back almost a month and a half later. He seemed different this time around, he was more on edge, always on guard, and protective. He seemed tense, always looking around his shoulder, looking out the window, at his surroundings, at the tops of his neighbors houses, down the street from his house, it was almost as if he were wishing something would come out.
You could sense him differently too. The way he had built a routine every night on shutting and locking his doors and windows. When walking and entering shopping malls or small restaurants he would enter first almost as if to make sure it was clear and then held the door for you and gently pushed you in with his hand on your lower back.
“We’re okay babe,” you would say to bring him back to reality, and he would nod back to you absentmindedly.
Then one night, it happened. The home you and König had made together, had been tarnished.
It was right before you went to bed, you were brushing your teeth when you heard something down the hall. König had been in bed already dozing off to whatever movie he had been trying to watch for the past week. You peeked outside the bathroom,
“Did you hear that?” You said with foam running down your mouth
He was still fixated on what was on the screen.
You spit out the foam and rinsed, you called out to him
“König?”
He looked up at you, dazed, then brought back to reality with glass breaking in the background.
It was with that sound that the König you slept next to was now replaced with König, from KorTac.
Almost as if he had anticipated this, König pushed himself out of bed, reached for a knife he had stored under his bedside table, pulled the mask to conceal his identity, and then the bat he had stashed in the closet.
“König what are you doing!? — wait!” He had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you aside towards the end of the bed.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” You had to try to speak with a level head. Only you and König knew what was really waiting for the person.
“The police have nothing to do with this.” He spit out harshly, his accent coming out.
“This person comes into my home, they get to deal with me.”
Panic had bubbled into your stomach, beads of sweat behind your neck.
You heard a couple doors burst open, then one more door burst open, followed by a shrill of a voice unknown to you cry for help. You rushed to the voice.
In the middle of the living room, König had the stranger lifted up by the neck, 3 limbs moving in the darkness. You turned on the lights.
The bat König held was on the ground. You panicked, knowing König could kill the guy in an instant, you immediately began to think of a rational solution to all this. This wasn’t a KorTac mission, this was your home.
“I’ll call the police,” you began,
“I don’t need the police,” he spat out. His back still turned to you, “when I’m finished with him he’s going to have to pick up his guts.”
A chill ran through your body. This wasn’t the man you’ve shared a bed with. It wasn't the man you got to know these past months. You saw the man choking, barely moving, and rushed to his side.
“Please put him down” you pleaded, “You’re not out there right now you’re here with me.”
König dropped the man down roughly, the man coughing up and attempting to breathe again. König stood watch above the man, his gaze piercing through him, he quickly bent down towards him, the man winced in pain and fear.
You ran into the room to dial the police.
It wasn’t until the police arrived that you realized König had broken the man’s leg. The police took the report from König and collected the man, you took some breaths to collect yourself.
König had been sitting on the table playing with the knife. As if nothing had happened. Anxiety crawled back to your stomach. Would he have really killed a man inside his house?
“König—”
He wouldn’t look at you. It made you feel sick.
“K-König you could’ve killed him. In our h-home. In front of me.” You said softly. The picture of the man in a red face kept flashing back into your head.
König said nothing, toying with the knife in his hands.
“Aren’t you going to say anything? Does it not worry you that you could’ve done that in front of me?”
He peered up at you, “I told you what I was, what I was capable of.” Closing the knife up.
It sent chills down your spine. You suddenly feared to be near this person. You were terrified. Turning towards him and spoke softly,
“I’m gonna go home, I think it would be best for us to get some space after tonight.”
He didn't speak a word or try to stop you. Just as the man had encountered pain and fear from König, you just left with the same.
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luvchungha · 8 months
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things you love about bf!skz
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pairing: boyfriend!skz x gn!reader
warnings: fluff, drabbles cursing(?), mentions of being a princess
wordcount: 1.3k
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bang chan
out of the year or so you two have dated, you haven't failed to notice how observant chan is. even if its something very small thats different about you, he will always point it out.
"there's a bruise on the side of your thigh, what happened?" he would ask, concerningly.
even when you get new clothes, he notices. "are those pants new? they look good on you" he says with a grin on his face. you're starting to believe his brain has yo enter new data everytime theres something different about your appearance.
or the time where you had come back from hanging out with your friends, and the next morning he said "did you get a new piercing? your ear has an extra hole."
chan would point out. this specific scenario ended up with your reply, "channie, how did you even notice...? i took the piercing out already." which thoughtfully, he responded "what can i say, the longer i look at your the more i notice"
lee know
when someone says "dont judge a book by its cover" it definetly applies to people, especially lee know. before getting to know him, he was a completely different person. he cares more than you'd think, almost too much you'd feel like a burden.
like the one time you went out to a private club to celebrate a friend's birthday. you had gotten a little more than tipsy, accidently calling lee know to tell him "how much you miss your boyfriend" and "i need a hug from my boyfriend right now" which gave him the signal to drive his car out to pick you and your friends up, even letting them stay the night at your house.
everytime your mood even changes slightly, he gets worried. even if nothing had even happened to you. he always asks "are you okay love?" and makes sure to take over cooking for that night (and cook very well, mind you) he just wants to make sure you're always happy, because if you're sad, he's sad.
changbin
one thing about changbin is that he's always worried about you. especially for your safety. sometimes it gets a little out of hand, he freaked out when you tripped while you were walking after your date.
you were wearing a new pair of shoes you hadn't gotten used to.
of course, you hadn't fallen to the ground. you kept your balance before you could fall. although, with his quick reflexes he grabbed your waist to pull you back up. (even though you werent going to fall)
changbin being the person he is, proceeded to say, "i know we just went on a date, but dont hurt yourself falling for me sweetheart." you lightly shoved him, annoyed at the cheesy line and embarassed at the petname. to make sure you didnt hurt yourself again, he kept one of his hands on your back, as if he was guiding the way.
hyunjin
no matter how many people are in a room, hyunjin is always looking at you. you first noticed this a little after you had first met. your roomate had invited jisung over, which led to hyunjin coming too. you were all having a conversation at the dinner table, but the only thing you could focus on was the way
hyunjin was looking at you so intensely.
later when you two had eventually starting dating, you had come to discover that was his "im interested in this thing infront of me" face. like how he stared at paintings in an art gallery he found interesting, he stared at you in the same amazement.
another time was after you decided to become a trainee. you and 7 other nee friends were going to perform a cover of one of stray kids' songs. this was a few years after they debuted, and since you two began dating before his debut, obviously he was thrilled when you were on stage covering his song. you could see him in the vip area, embarassingly blowing kisses and hearts at you. he had on a "disguise" but you could tell it was him from a mile away.
han jisung
jisung is overly thoughtful. he likes to express his love for you through words, and tries to do it regularly, as if you're going to forget he loves you. one of the ways he expresses this undying love for you is through sticky notes. specifically, he bought different colors for everyday of the week.
for the days you came back from work late, he left a note on the kitchen counter, usually resulting in seeing him asleep on the couch with the tv playing. you felt bad he tried to stay awake in order to see you when you got home, but his effort was appreciated. the notes usually consisted or something like, "y/n! i hope you had a good day at work, even if you didnt i'm still proud of you. theres food in the fridge for you! - love hannie"
the other way he expressed his love for you was through his music. you went to the studio to suprise him one time, and overheard on a conversation including chan and changbin. they were complaining about how all of the songs han wrote were love songs. you could tell they appreciated it, but an entire album can't be love songs. it was even more embarassing for han when you had accidently heard one of his unreleased songs, a sweet love song, lyrics flowing perfectly with his voice.
felix
one habit felix will never get out of is touching. even before you dated, you could tell he was a skinship person. no matter what, he feels the need to touch you at all times. whether its a hug, holding hands, or even touching your fingers. you don't mind of course. you think its sweet.
he even admitted that theres this feeling of uneasy-ness when he isn't near you. even if you are near eachother, he has the urge to do something in order to be touching you, like a sense of overprotecting.
even doing simple things, like while making dinner, he has to be hugging you from the back. or while you're cutting up some vegatables, he feels the need to guide your hand while you cut, as if it was the first time you picked up a knife. whenever you walk side by side, hands are always entertwined. sitting down at the dinner table? his hand is on your thigh, or ontop of your hand.
seungmin
seungmin thinks about you alot, even if he doesnt admit it to your face. something you've realized is how much attention he pays when you speak, always remembering small things you tell him.
like the time you were on lunch break at work, scrolling through whatever social media app, you sent him a desert recipe you wanted to try sometime. a day or so later, you got home and he had followed tbe recipe in order to make it, even if it wasn't perfect. he wants to make you happy and keep it that way.
or how when he asked to be your boyfriend, he got you and him matching necklaces. because beforehand you had told him about your friend and their boyfriend, and how they got matching bracelets and they were so cure. saying how "you'd love to have a matching item with someone"
jeongin
he loves spoiling you, no matter how much you refuse and try to repay him. he always says "your happiness and love is the only payment i need" with a smile on his face. he was so sweet, but you wanted to make sure he was happy too sometimes.
if you see something through the window of a store you like? hes already at the counter getting ready to pay. It would take 3 hands to count the amount of times he had to fight for the bill, not wanting to make you pay for it. you felt bad not paying for your portion of the meal, no matter how much he reassured you.
he makes sure to give you princess treatment if you're feeling even the slightest bit down. when you had a bad day at work, he immediately out everything else he was supposed to do aside, and planned a relaxing spa evening at home for you. together, you did skincare, massages, and he even let you paint his nails.
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likes and reblogs are appreciated!
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a/n: sorry a few of them are longer than the other ones, thinking of writing a fic based off of one of these tbh...also yes i am stalling for my smau rn u caught me
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yelenasdiary · 7 months
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ive got an angst request! reader grew up with yelena in the red room and they were inseperable, and ruthless assassin partners and have always been there for each other but after they graduated, yelena went on to become a subjugated widow while the reader was sold by dreykov to hydra to train with bucky to become a winter soldier, and she gets the super soldier serum. years pass and she escapes, becoming an avenger but she eventually goes on the run after the accords and meets back up with yelena and nat during black widow and helps them take down the red room. even more time passes and yelena and reader become girlfriends and even better partners than they were before but then she survives the blip while yelena is dusted and theres a bunch of angst as natasha tries to pull her basically sis in law out of a slump as they both grieve yelena together but when given the chance to bring everyone back, reader ends up being the one to take on thanos in the end and slight of hands the stones off of him and snaps to destroy him and his armies. it ends with nat comforting yelena as they sit at readers grave. ive got a fun idea for part 2 if your interested in reader somehow surviving the whole thing but still having faked her death.
It Was Always The Plan
It Was Always The Plan
Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Super Solider! Reader
Summary: After losing your girlfriend to the blip, you struggled to cope. Natasha lends a helping hand while you plan to take down the superhuman who took her away from you. 
Angst | Some Fluff | Slight Language Warning | Grief | Character Death | Depression | 1.3K |
AC: Thank you for sending this & in great background detail!! It’s unknown (well to me anyways) if Alexei and Melina survived the blip so I’ve added a little extra detail, I hope you enjoy this x As for a part 2, I’m not sure if we’ll do one but we’ll see.
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Year 1 - 
Natasha placed a mug of hot coco in front of you before she took a seat across from you. It's been a struggle, but she finally managed to get you out of bed, even if it was just to sit at the table and have a hot drink with her. A few months ago, you lost your girlfriend, Yelena, to the blip. At first you didn't think she was turned into tiny pieces of dust, given that she was on a mission at the time, and you just assumed she would contact you when she was safe. But when Natasha tracked down Yelena's last whereabouts, it became clear that the blonde was gone, just like half the population. 
Since Natasha told you what you feared, things have been dark and cold. Life just didn't seem enjoyable. You missed Yelena, deeply. But under the grief, you were angry and wanted nothing more than to destroy the one person who took the best part of you away, Thanos. 
"Is there any plans yet?" you looked up at Natasha, a question you'd ask her once a week and every answer was the same, "No" she replied softly with a light shake of her head. Every no that left her lips made your heart break once more. You tried to be mindful that Natasha was also hurting, losing her sister isn't easy but it was clear that Natasha was dealing with the grief in her own way. 
Every day she'd come by your room and check in on you, encourage you to come to team meetings, go for a walk or just simply come join her downstairs for a hot drink as you are right now. There were times where you allowed yourself to break down into tears while Natasha comforted you, something next to nobody has ever seen from you besides Yelena. 
Year 2 – 
As time went on, things didn't exactly get easier, but you learnt to cope with it in different ways. Natasha was the one who really pulled you out of the darkness of your room and continued to keep an eye on you which in many ways helped you both grow closer in more of a sister-in-law way and you almost felt like Yelena was still here. 
You trained daily in the gym, attended team meetings, went on small missions when needed but in your own free time was when you found yourself trying to find ways to reverse Thanos's  snap. Whenever you came up with something that you thought might be useful it always led to a dead end, and you were back to square one. 
You also continued the work Yelena was doing with Melina before the blip, saving other widows. With the blip, it made it harder to track down some widows as they were also blipped but those who you and Melina could save brought some comfort and you only hoped that when (and if) Yelena would come home, she'd be glad that others were saved during this hard time. 
Year 3 – 
By now, dealing with loosing Yelena and the others was leaving the emptiness within your heart even deeper and for most, life when on. Mission came and went, Widows were still being saved from Dreykov's control even though he was dead, and the world moved on, like human nature. 
Each night you found yourself seeing Yelena in your dreams or remembering good times you had with her. Memories from Red Room to meeting up with her again after years, you could still feel the way she kissed you before she left for a mission and the way you loved having her fall asleep in your arms. She made you feel like the world was in your hands, just the two of you in this world that almost made no sense to either of you. 
You missed the way Yelena would tease you for almost everything, only for you to tease her back. You missed everything about her that eventually you'd fall asleep with tears rolling down your cheeks just wishing she'd walk through that door and apologise for being away for so long. You thought about how she'd tell you that her mission when wrong and she was taken and finally was able to escape or that she was out at sea and couldn't contact you. 
But every scenario you played out in your head made you feel stupid for thinking that Yelena would let you and her family go this long without hearing from her.
Year 4 – 
"You hit training pretty hard today, are you okay?" Natasha asked as you entered the compounds kitchen drenched in sweat. You nodded and smiled softly, "just making sure I'm ready" you replied before grabbing a cold bottle of water. 
"Ready for what?" Natasha questioned. 
"You know, for when we finally find Thanos and bring them home" you explained with confidence which only grew to Natasha's endless worries on you. Each day you showed that you were okay with how things were, that you were finding a way to cope but just like everybody around you, nobody was okay, not truly. 
Everybody was doing something to try and fix things.
----
When you saw Scott rushing to Natasha's office you felt something that felt like it was slipping away, hope. The look on Natasha's face when she came to see you hours later only confirmed what you and everybody else had been hoping for.
"We have a plan" Natasha looked at you with a soft smile, a sparkle of hope in her eyes made you smile, "let's bring her home" you replied. 
The only thing on your mind when it came to fighting the superhuman who took away your true happiness and the rest of your loved ones, was them. Nothing else mattered to you but making sure Thanos would pay and you were determined to make sure he knew that he messed with the wrong team of Avengers. 
You'd been training yourself up for this, taking the gauntlet from the purple enemy knowing exactly what you were going to do next. 
"Time's up big boy" you smirked as Thanos turned around an faced you, his gauntlet on your hand boiled his blood. "You don't understand!" he spat. "No, you don't understand! You took the one person I love more than anything from me! You took my friends and family! There's no forgiveness for that in my books!" You looked him directly into his eyes, raising your hand up slightly. 
"Y/N! NO!" Natasha yelled as she ran towards you, "that wasn't the plan!" she added as you looked to her. 
"This was always the plan, Nat" you smiled softly. "I know you'll take care of her" you added before your eyes looked back at Thanos and snapped your fingers together without a second thought other than knowing Yelena and the others would finally be coming home. 
----
Every single day since Natasha brought her to your grave, Yelena would visit you. She'd bring some of your favorite snacks and just sit with you until she felt okay again. Natasha was never too far, always ready to be a shoulder for her sister to cry on.
"You idiot" Yelena shook her head as she placed a kiss on your gravestone, "you were supposed to be here, waiting. Not like this" she added. 
Most interactions started off like this, first Yelena would show anger and hurt but soon it would change to how much she misses you and talking to you about the things she wants to do to keep your memory alive, letting you know that she'll never let anybody forget who saved the world. Then Natasha would come sit with her before the two of them shared their favorite memories with you. 
It would take some time for Yelena to adjust, like you did. But she knew she had everybody she needed around her, even you and Natasha would be the one to make sure that Yelena would never forget about you, not that she ever would.
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blueduplicity · 11 months
Text
Oh, the White of a Red Rose (P1)
(Part 2)
Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader
WC: ~28k
CW: INCEST. Alcohol, jealous behavior, reader is in a relationship with another woman at one point, absurd amounts of plot, the 2nd half will have all the smut. Banter, Tsukki is kinda mean but he's also pining like crazy. Morally questionable bc they're siblings outside of that it's pretty fluffy, light angst throughout. Switch reader and Kei, they both have moments on top and on bottom, Kei in particular is pretty subby tho...kind of degrading, but he also praises you, theres a lot of back and forth tbh.
Excerpt: He mirrors your blink, cat-like. “We’re helping him move, he said he’d need some help driving his things to the apartment.”
“Apartment?” You echo, stunned fully awake. “He’s moving?”
Hinata freezes, just as Kei is coming up the stairs. While slow at first, the footsteps hasten when the sharp crack of your voice pitches even higher. He stumbles up to the top step, sweaty and clearly having been busy for longer than you’ve been awake. His face pales several shades when he first catches sight of you, the tears welling up in your eyes, the panicked look Hinata wears. “Fuck. Wait, don’t–”
Twenty-two steps from one end of the hall to the other. Seventeen from the stairs to your room, it only takes Kei nine to reach you, choking on an apology that he’s never given you before.
It only takes two for you to slam and lock the door.
--
In which, your brother Kei comes to learn and love you in a multitude of different ways.
It's only at the beginning of your first year of high school that your brother realizes you're upset with him. 
What he doesn’t realize is that you’ve been upset with him, for a long fucking time.
Kei wouldn’t know that though, because you hardly ever even see him unless it’s at the dinner table, or when you go to his games because unlike him, you’re a good sibling and want to support your family.  
You know it’s because of school, because he’s getting ready for college and adulting, and the part of you that will always love your brother is just glad that he’s happy playing volleyball again. 
It’s just that, you wish he didn’t have to leave you behind for it to happen. 
Even when he’d shut out Akiteru, he’d never been so cold towards you. He’d hold your hand on the walk to school, study with you when you needed the help, and he’d let you stay in his room to watch him play games or to read on your own if you wanted.
He was the type of brother to be mean to you if you annoyed him, but would always let you crawl beneath his arm after, all while you complained that he needed to be nicer to you. 
You would take the bullying again if it meant he would at least look at you for more than a few seconds at a time. 
It’s worse as you near the end of your last year in junior high, when you go to Kei for help with studying for your exams and he brushes you aside. You’ve been festering with it for so long that it nearly boils over just as he closes the door in your face, but you keep it simmered, keep it contained. 
Akiteru helps you instead. On top of a full-time job, a fiance, and a healthy social life, Akiteru always makes time for you.
The topic doesn’t stay on exams, though. He was going to ask eventually, but he can tell by your grumpy, clipped answers that he won’t get much out of you, the wound is still too raw. 
“You should talk to him, you know.” He muses, turning a page in your textbook. “Kei loves you, he just doesn’t know how to balance growing up with everything else, but if you tell him how you feel I’m sure he’ll find a way to compromise.”  
You think, quite honestly, that trying to talk to Kei about how you feel would be the worst possible thing to do. If he can’t find the time to help with something as important as final exams, there’s no point in trying to make him listen to feelings he won’t care about. 
When you tell him as much, resting your head on folded arms as if that will obscure the way your face twists, Akiteru gives a wry smile and rubs your back, silently marveling at the stubbornness of both of his younger siblings, and how different they are besides. 
Still, the Tsukishimas are nothing if not good at repressing their emotions. You’re determined to act like everything is fine, like it doesn’t hurt every time you catch his eye and he looks away. It’ll be easy.
Or, maybe it might have been, if you had considered that the reason Kei was able to stay so oblivious is exactly because he never saw you. You’ve never been a quiet little sister, even in temporary silence your anger is loud. 
--
So of course, he figures it out on your first day.
You can hear, as you’re getting dressed, your mom’s voice through your door, asking Kei to walk you to school since you don’t know the way. As you lean closer to hear how he responds, something ugly twists in your chest when he sighs out a quietly exasperated agreement. Like you’re a chore. 
Unsurprisingly, this is a less than ideal start to your morning. 
Smoothing down the fabric of your skirt, you step out of your room and peer down the hall, finding that he’s already waiting by the front door, with his headphones pulled up over his ears and his phone in hand. There’s no way to slip past him without being seen, so you suffer out a quiet groan and resign yourself to just having a bad first day. 
He says nothing when you walk over to put your shoes on, eyes on the screen in his hands until you step outside, and then he’s following you onto the porch after shutting the door on his way out.
Contrary to the stormy cloud brewing above your head, it’s a nice morning. A little chilly, but the sky is clear and still tinted pink from the vestiges of an early dawn, thin wispy clouds that are lower near the horizon line. 
Maybe if you were with anyone else, it would be a nice walk. Side by side with your brother, dealing with first day jitters, a cool new uniform, it should be nice. Pretty skies, family, memories. 
And yet, for all your effort to try being positive, all it takes is one passing remark. 
“I have practice today.” He drawls, unknowingly lighting a well-fueled ticking bomb. “So if you don’t want to walk home alone, ask mom to come pick you up after school.”
The flimsy, brittle, translucent facade shatters. 
“Fuck off.” 
It’s hard and cold, bitter, the consonants sharp and the vowels short. Clipped, like how he talks to you, though your voice carries a whole lot of vitriol compared to his monotone, and it is most definitely not positive.  
He stops, reaching out to catch you by the elbow when you make to keep walking past him. “What?” 
You try to pull your arm away, but his fingers curl in the thin material of your sleeve, tight, and he steps closer. Insufferably tall, towering over you, brow pinched with vague annoyance in his eyes. 
“Let go.” You’re being petulant, you know you are, but something petty cinches in your chest, spite that clips your voice and keeps it sharp.  
Akiteru doesn’t push you when you get upset, he’s used to Kei shutting him down and you being the type to want space, so he’s careful around the lines of your boundaries and treats them kindly. 
You’re mom’s third teenager, she’s learned at this point what the specific kinds of bad behavior are to watch out for, and beyond that she’ll wait it out until you’re ready to talk. 
Kei, who would rather avoid any and all forms of confrontation, has never been the type to back off and let you wait it out. Probably the only one who knows that you can’t stand being left to sit in bad feelings, but always lack the initiative to reach out. 
Still, even though he knows, that’s not to say he isn’t sometimes cruel about it. 
“Something you need to say?” He taunts, mean and low, eyes narrowed thin behind the glint of his glasses. “What, have I not been giving my precious baby sister enough attention? Is taking all of Akiteru’s free time not enough for you?” 
It cuts, and he knows it does the moment his lips form the shape of Akiteru’s name, when your eyes blow wide and then become glassy.
“Oh you are such a dick!” You hiss, shoving him back and he goes, both shocked at the sight of your tears and the vitriol he had just spit in your direction. 
It wouldn’t be clear to anyone on the outside looking in, but Kei has doted on you since you were a baby. In his own way, with silent affection that nobody but family could pick up on. Always saving the best parts of a dessert for you, finding the last snack in a box and taking it to your room so someone else couldn’t get it first, snatching your homework from the dining room table and going over the answers to make sure you got everything right. 
Even with the distance, the exhaustion, the stress of growing into a body that felt too big to fit him, he loved you, it just got muddled along the way with the pile-up of everything else. Never the breadth of mind to spare a thought for how his reclusiveness might’ve pushed you away. 
The apology is locked behind his tongue, you can almost see it, the way his eyes turn mournful in a way only you could recognize, but you see his lips press thin to keep the ‘sorry’ from tumbling out, and it only fans the flames of your hurt, your anger. 
You push past him with the glare of tears in your eyes, aching with it, your heart like a hot iron in your chest. It burns, it burns. And he does nothing to put it out. 
The rest of the walk is bitterly silent, too much distance between you, and the lingering hope you’d tried so hard to stifle withers. 
Against all assumed odds, your day does get better from there. 
Some of your friends from Amemaru are in your class, so you have a small group to immerse yourself in and to help you forget your earlier spat. They keep you distracted, and you’re so busy trying to retain the layout of the building that you don’t have much time to think about everything else. There’s too much new, too many things to learn and new faces that are so much older than those that you’re used to seeing. The teachers are patient when you stop to ask for directions, and there are already clubs being advertised by the time you go to eat lunch.  
It’s so busy. 
You run into Kei only once in the hallways, with his headphones on and a familiar figure at his side. Yamaguchi. 
He perks up at the sight of you, and you can’t fight back a smile when he swoops across the hallway to greet you. 
“Tadashi!” You crow, arms looping around his neck as nearly slams into you with a breathy laugh. You squeeze him, the soft scent of vanilla in his clothes is comforting, familiar. As busy as Kei, you don’t get to see him often either, but it’s always nice when he stops by to visit. 
“Hey! I’m sorry I wasn’t there to walk with you this morning, glad you made it here safe.” He grins down at you, bright-eyed and beaming. He’s grown his hair out since you last saw him, half of it pulled back out of his face with a clip, freckles darker and plentiful like constellations on his cheeks.
“S’ok, you can walk with me instead next time.” You ignore the narrowed eyes of your brother, the way he slinks up behind Tadashi and towers over you both with that familiar grumpy scowl, silent if not for the way his face screams ‘you will not be walking with my sister.’  
“How is your first day going?” Tadashi pokes gently, seemingly aware of the tension and carefully trying to maneuver around it. “Do you need any help getting around? We have some time before–” 
You wave him off, smile a touch wry. “I’ve been asking around for directions, you don’t have to waste time helping me. Thanks, though.” 
Tadashi frowns, lips pursed a little as he gently flicks your forehead. “It’s not a waste.” He points out, soft. “Let us know if you need anything, it's what we’re here for.” 
Your smile wobbles, something shaky, and you can see the alarm in both of their faces before you’re turning away. “Yeah.” 
It’s short and curt, and you know Tadashi deserves better than a flimsy response like that, but you can’t think with Kei’s eyes on you like this, not with the venom in his voice still so clearly etched into your mind
Fingers curl around your wrist, long and lithe, but Kei doesn’t speak. He holds you in place, words heavy on his tongue but refusing to come out, and he doesn’t fight it when you break away. 
– 
You hate that he’s paying more attention, now. 
Ever since he figured out that you were mad at him, that you’ve been mad at him, he’s been more present in your daily life. Instead of staying holed up in his room, he’ll study in the kitchen with you. When Akiteru comes home to visit, he’ll venture out into the living room and begrudgingly talk shop with him about volleyball while you stay curled up on the couch listening. It’s a development your mother is pleased with, cooing over how happy she is that Kei is around more and that you’re getting along again. 
But you’re determined not to give in, petty and spiteful and ultimately, too hurt to accept the bare minimum. 
He’s getting frustrated, you can tell, that you still treat him as coldly and distantly as always. It had never bothered him before when he wasn’t around to realize it, throwing himself into books or late-night practices that would end with him coming home long after you were in bed. He never had to see the results of your deteriorating relationship, always turning away before your face could fall, always pulling on his headphones just before your voice could crack.  
Before the game against Shiratorizawa in his first year, he had still made time for you. Back when he was trying to pretend that he didn’t care about his progress, about his performance in a temporary club. You had hated it, then, hated that he would downplay his passion in favor of something safe and secure, hated that he was so quick to give up on himself for fear of getting hurt. 
That single block had changed everything for him. You even got to watch firsthand as it happened, with Akiteru bawling on the ground floor harassing some poor security guard about his little brother, you screaming in the stands even though he would certainly kill you if he knew. Kei fell in love with volleyball, he let himself fall in love with volleyball. 
And after that, he gave it everything, dedicating all of himself to the sport that consumed him, that flamed his passion, and he had to spend every free moment outside of that with his face in a book to ensure he didn’t fall behind in his studies. Less time spent with you on the couch, watching nature documentaries just so he could tell you all about how things had evolved compared to prehistoric eras, no more late nights where you would sneak into his room and read on his bed while he played games on a handheld beside you. He never had time. 
You love him, love that he’s finally letting himself be passionate about something, you just wish that it hadn’t come at the expense of your relationship with him. 
It took him over three years to finally realize that you were hurting, only when he was forced to see it firsthand, when you could no longer bite your tongue. Your pride won’t let you cave so easily. 
He knows, though. Kei knows better than anyone how to soften you, how to manage your moods. 
It starts small and unobtrusive, knowing you need to be warmed up to larger shows of affection when you’re feeling defensive and cornered. 
He brings home snacks for you, on the days when his practice runs longer. 
The first one is a surprise, a small knock at your door that you answer offhand, thinking it’s just mom. You don’t know how to feel when Kei walks in instead, hair still wet from his shower, glasses missing, changed out of his uniform into dark blue pajamas. 
Wordless, he comes over and sets a paper bag down on your desk, half-torn sticker from a nearby cafe on the side. Waiting, then, almost uncertainly, eyes watching for your reaction. 
When you don’t give him one beyond a tilt of your head and a small ‘hey, thanks.’ his brow furrows, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he shifts in place, agitated. 
He leaves, door clicking quietly behind him, and you pull the bag into your lap to peer inside. A warm apple pastry, significantly less warm you imagine than when he got it. An effort, clearly, but you only roll your eyes and wonder if he really thought buying you a dessert would make up for it. 
Apparently not, as it becomes a semi-regular occurrence. At first you would eat the treats with little to no problem, waiting to see if maybe he’d give up and stop buying you things that you clearly don’t appreciate. 
It escalates instead. 
He comes home earlier one day, finds you sprawled on the couch with a movie playing quietly in the background, and goes to drop his things off in his room before joining you. 
When he stops to stand near where your head is propped up by a throw pillow, you crane your head back to squint up at him. 
“What? Dinner is in the fridge, mom made kimchi-jjigae.” 
He scowls, entirely heatless, and moves towards the other end of the couch, lifting your legs so he can sit and then letting them fall back in his lap. You go rigid in your spot, bringing your knees up to your chest to get out of his space, but his fingers curl tight over your calves and keep you there, long and lithe and rough with calluses.
His fingertips ghost over your ankle, such a subtle caress that it almost makes you gasp. Your skin prickles, flushed with heat as you press your hands together and tuck them beneath your head, trying to focus on the movie and not the feeling of his hands on you.  
He skims the ridge up his knuckles up your calf, a long, slow drag that beckons you to stretch out, to relax, but you remain a coiled ball of anxiety for the rest of the movie. 
And somehow that turns into another weird semi-routine. It’s not often he gets home from practice early enough that you haven’t already gone to bed, but when he can he’ll sit with you like that. 
Neither of you talk, he doesn’t force you to break the silence but there are times when you can’t avoid it, no matter how much you wish you could. 
Unfortunately, Kei is better at taking notes than you are, so you have to go to him for help when you realize the notes you did take don’t actually help when you need to study. 
That’s the worst, when there’s no one left to turn to because mom doesn’t speak much English and Tadashi knows about as much as you, even in his third year. Kei is the only option you have. 
He doesn’t hold it over you, like you’d expect. When you shuffle up to his room with your pride squeezed into a locked box, knocking at his door with your textbooks in hand. He lets you in, lets you sit on his bed while he’s in his computer chair, and he helps you go through the vocabulary you don’t understand. He’s patient with you, shows you where you went wrong in your notetaking and he’s so casual about it even while you’re awkward and stiff and nervous. He doesn’t complain when you leave his room without thanking him, and he doesn’t complain when you come back a week later for the same thing. 
You’re waiting for that smug little smile, that gleam in his eyes that means he thinks he’s won something, but it never shows. Kei, who has never been one to take things slow with you, is patient in the way he coaxes you back to him, even when it’s clear that he’s getting frustrated. 
The stalemate breaks when he finds out you’ve started spending less time with Akiteru, though. 
Even though you know it was just Kei being petty, his comment about you taking all of your older brother’s time stung, and you haven’t quite been able to stop thinking about it.
So you stopped reaching out. Fewer daily calls, no more asking him to come over every weekend, and apparently that news made it back to Kei when Akiteru expressed his concern that something was happening to you at school. You never told him about the fight on your first day.
Kei is the only one who understands the correlation, knows it was his own spiteful words that caused you to withdraw. Seclusion doesn’t suit you, he thinks. Not like it suits him. 
The sharp crack of your door as it’s yanked open startles you, heart in your throat as your book tumbles over the edge of your bed. You blink up at the glowering figure in your doorway, shocked at the intensity of his frustration and immediately clamming up, drawn in tight as you glare simply as though that will stop you getting hurt by whatever he’s about to say. 
Initially, your first thought is that he’s finally gotten fed up with your attitude, and now he’s come to yell at you and tell you to stop being such a brat. You brace for it, chin lifted high with a false confidence you do not feel, readying yourself with every possible complaint you’ve saved up ever since that first day where you knocked on your big brother’s door and asked him to come out and spend time with you, only to be told to go away. 
“Akiteru is worried.” 
You deflate, like a balloon poked with scissors, and roll onto your side to face the wall. “I’ll call ‘im.” You mumble, if only to get him out of your room. 
It doesn’t work, and he comes closer, quiet as he walks across your floor to sit beside you, mattress dipping beneath his weight. 
After a beat, he sighs. “I’m sorry.” 
Your eyes squeeze shut, water welling up, catching on your lashes. “No you aren’t.” 
“I am.” He insists, crawling fully into the bed with you, long body tucked around your own as he curls himself against your back. Finally broken, then. “I know why you’re upset, sorry it took me so long to realize.” He pauses, and, softer– “Shouldn’t have taken you snapping at me to notice you were hurting.” 
“It shouldn’t have.” You agree, bitter, feeling his arm slip around your middle to pull you back into his chest. 
This is new, Kei even as a kid has never been very physically affectionate. You can feel his heart, the way it's pounding against your shoulder blade, his fingers trembling as they curl into your shirt. His knees press in behind yours, your body curving further as he forces you into a ball. A side of him you’re not supposed to see, your big brother being vulnerable. 
“I’m sorry.” He repeats, mouth at the nape of your neck, holding you even tighter. 
Your mouth is dry, heart suddenly synced with his, feeling strangely like a line is being crossed that you hadn’t even known was drawn in the first place. His hand splays wide over your belly, palm warm as it presses you somehow even closer, bigger than you remember, different. 
“What will it take for you to forgive me?” He asks, nosing into your hair, you can almost feel the way his lips twitch into a smile. “I’m already buying you dessert almost every day, do you want more? Want me to pick up your favorite dinner too?”
His fingers curve inwards, then, and you realize a second too late what his plan is. 
You’re helplessly pinned against him when he starts to tickle you, free hand clapping over your mouth to muffle the way you shriek at the first twitchy pass of his fingertips, shoving your shirt up so the cold digits feather over your bare skin. You kick and twist and lick a wet stripe up the hand over your mouth, but he’s wholly undeterred, relentless. 
“Such a brat, wouldn’t even talk to me about how upset you were, had to wait until I finally caught on, huh? So petty.” He’s mocking you now, one heavy leg pressing both of yours down when you try to kick away from him again, unperturbed by the way you try to mouth at his hand in an attempt to bite. 
It’s unbearable, the way his fingers dapple over your ribcage, purposefully needling at you until you’re squealing and tears are spilling down your cheeks, wrenching your mouth away from his wet palm to suck in a breath, nearly sobbing with the cackle of your laughter. It devolves quickly into wheezing, breath stuck in your throat, the resistance melting away as you struggle for air.
It’s only then that he stops, smoothing his hand up and down your side as if to ease the torture he just put you through, soothing you while you slowly calm down. 
Like an emotional release, you slump into him, murmuring quietly when he tucks his face against your neck again, breathing with him pressed behind you. 
“You’re a dick.” You mutter, voice raspy. 
He sighs, soft and slow, nodding. “I know.” 
“I’m still mad at you.” 
“I know.” 
Your eyes water, and he turns you around, finding you pliable now that the ice has been shattered. You curl your hands into the space between you as he guides you into his arms properly, legs tangled together, your face tucked against his neck while he cups the back of your head to keep you there. 
“Don’t want your pity.” You mutter, blinking back tears as the scent of him bleeds into your clothes, his bare skin hot as your cheek presses against his collar bones. It’s uncomfortable, but you missed him, missed this. You’ve been so prickly for so long that you haven’t let anyone else come close. 
He snorts, exhaling a fondly exasperated breath that ruffles your hair. “It’s not pity, quit with that.” He squeezes you once, tight until you squawk in protest, then teases– “When did my baby sister get so stubborn?” 
His fingers twitch traitorously close to your stomach, and you hiss and burrow yourself closer, wrapping yourself around him and pressing into the cradle of his body so he can’t get to your ticklish spots. His chuckle is low, vibrating through his chest, and he returns to rubbing your back, pushing inward at the small of it to keep you close, almost like he needs the comfort as much as you do. 
Sometimes Kei makes it easy to forget that he has a different way of wanting, of needing. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might miss you too, but after so much time that he might not know how to reach out as you grew in his absence.
You soften, unwillingly, as he buries himself against you, walls finally cracking. You can feel it in how tight he holds you, the way he presses his nose into your hair and breathes, warm hands stroking from the base of your spine to your shoulder blades, just touching you, feeling you. 
“Missed you.” You murmur, barely a whisper. 
He sighs, warm against your throat, and curls himself over you a little more. It’s not out loud, the way he tells you, he can never say it out loud. But, he does tell you that he missed you too in how he holds you ‘till you fall asleep, the way he strokes your hair with gentle fingers careful not to tug or snag, and the way he’s so careful to keep his hips from rocking into you when he starts to thicken and twitch against his thigh. You don’t get to see the shame on his face, the twist to his brow, the grit to his jaw as he keeps himself in check, furious at himself for the shocking intensity of these feelings. It’s just that–
He just–
He just loves you a lot. 
Kei doesn’t find much more time to come around other than what he already had, but he texts you more. Small comments between classes. He’ll tell you to fix your skirt or your tie even when he hasn’t even seen you in the halls, just to make you double check because he knows it makes you pissy. During lunch he swings by your room to make sure you’re eating, never longer than it takes to poke his head in, find you seated with your friends, and then leave. 
You start going to his games again, at first secretly because he’d told you and Akiteru not to come, but he caught you one too many times trying to sneak away after, and gave up on stopping you.
The wins are easy, when he comes off the court sweaty and breathless but smiling with his eyes in his own way, when he catches you in his arms as you hurl yourself at him directly from the sidelines. 
The losses are harder, when he’s prickly and sharp, when he doesn’t want anyone to come too close and you have to approach him gently, when he’s alone, and only then can you try to make an attempt at offering him any sort of comfort. 
It’s a year that goes by too quickly, easily, as you settle into the life of a high school student. Kei helps you study for your tests, even gives you his old notes to use and sits with you in your room while studying for his own. He’s preparing for graduation, for college, and you still have two more years to go. 
He’s taller, broad, no longer so lanky and lithe. He gets more attention from the girls in other classes, girls in your classes, and you have to adjust to a new problem. 
People asking for you to get closer to your brother. A star on the volleyball team, and one of the tallest guys in the whole school. People always noticed, but now they have another way to get to him other than through Tadashi. 
The first time it happens, you’re almost too baffled to react, when you’re approached by a second year with pretty dark hair and a sweet smile. Shyly, scuffing her shoe across the tile floor with her hands pressed together, she asks you if you would be willing to give her Kei’s number so she can ask him out. 
You’re so startled that you laugh. A bit loud, a bit mean, maybe, but thinking of the face he’d make after receiving her text nearly puts you into hysterics. 
“Try asking him directly.” You suggest, after catching your breath and drying your eyes. “He’s not the type to like someone sneaking around like that, asking for his number behind his back would just put him off.” 
Her face flushes red, but you’re too busy snickering as you wander towards the front gate where Kei is waiting to walk you home, you don’t see her embarrassment or take note of the harshness of your words. 
You’re grinning when you walk up to him, and he’s immediately wary. 
“What?” He eyes you suspiciously, automatic as he reaches out to relieve you of your school bag. 
Your grin widens, all teeth like a shark. “A girl tried to use me to ask you out.” 
He blanches, brow pinched low as his nose scrunches up. “Seriously?” 
You nod, starting off down the sidewalk with your hands tucked into your skirt pockets. “Wanted me to give her your number, I told her to just ask you directly since it would be kinda weird to do that behind someone's back.” You shrug, kicking at a loose rock to send it skipping down the pavement. “Don’t you ever give some random person my number, I’ll kill you.” 
Kei scoffs, shoulder checking you and smirking when it nearly sends you careening dramatically off to the side, righting you with a hand at your elbow. “I wouldn’t even without you threatening me, you’re not that scary.” 
“Say that when I break into your room in the middle of the night, and stand over your bed like the grudge.” You mutter, low beneath your breath, ignoring the way he laughs out loud at your quiet threat. It’s a cheery sound, one you usually only get to hear when he’s being mean spirited to other people. 
He pulls at you, then, tucking you roughly beneath his arm so he can drag you along in an attempt to get home quicker, chucking quietly beneath his breath and telling you that– “next time that happens, just tell them I said no. I wouldn’t want to make my baby sister jealous.”
You’re sure that there will not even be a next time. Your brother might objectively be attractive, but he’s mean when he’s comfortable, pokes and pulls and teases and he grins when you get so mad at him that your eyes water.
He’s not hard to love, but he’s sure as hell hard to like. 
So of course, when it happens again, you’re far less amused. 
A crowd of girls who stop you during lunch while you’re at the vending machines to buy a snack. They press in close, blocking your exit so your back is to the wall, and they ask with sickly sweet smiles if Kei has a girlfriend.
You tell them yes, and they ask you who, which is the second red flag you need to get the hell out. They pout when you try to slip between them, but follow when you make to go down the hall, trying to weasel personal information out of you until one of Kei’s teammates, Hinata, sees you and breaks through the crowd to say hi. 
It’s evident by the cautious glint in his eyes that it’s not as accidental an intervention as it appears, taking quick stock of the situation and dragging you out before it can spiral.
And every time after that, you just get more and more annoyed. Your responses are shorter, clipped, final exams are rapidly approaching and you only have so much time with Kei to study while he’s preparing to go to nationals. Wasting time being accosted in the hallways after school when you could be going home is not ideal, and you’re fed up with it. 
So after school, once you’re safely inside his bedroom, you throw your bag onto his bed. “You need to get a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or just a romantic partner in general.” 
He chokes on his water, staring at you with wide eyes as it dribbles down his chin, open-mouthed and his brows arched high. “What?”
You flop down on his bed, dragging your bag to your side so you can rifle through it for your notes. “I’m tired of people harassing me about getting in your pants, has this always been a thing or did you just get popular this year?” You scoff, sitting up and throwing him the notebook he’d left with your bag. It hits him in the chest and falls to the floor, with him making no attempt to catch it. 
His eyes narrow. “People are still bothering you?” 
Another long, drawn out groan. “Different every time, I think. They’re starting to blur together. I just started making stuff up and even that wasn’t enough.” You grin, then, a little teasing as you flutter your lashes at him. “You’re a pretty face, sure, but that personality is so awful I bet it would take one conversation before they run for the hills. Maybe I should just start sending them to you directly so they leave me alone.” 
“Don’t you dare.” He joins you on the bed, reluctantly and with a pointed glare, and sits shoulder to shoulder with you so he can knock into you gently from the side. Books spread out, he passes your notes to you and starts on his own, already tuning you out for whatever retort you might have.
It’s an unnecessary demand, you wouldn’t really do that to him anyway. Kei gets overstimulated easily in social situations, and as annoying as he is, you handle people much better. If you have to endure the brunt of this so he doesn’t have to, you will, but he better be willing to listen to you complain about it. 
He says his thanks afterwards, after you’ve half drifted off while writing out equations with too many steps. You slump against him, head resting against his bicep, and he shifts to let you fall into his chest instead, arm wrapping around your shoulders to draw you in. He’s still reading, having more to go over in his curriculum than you do, but it’s easier with the comfort of you nearby. He says his thanks in the kiss he presses to your hair, the way he carefully straightens out your legs so they aren’t sore by the time you get up, how finally, late in the night, he tucks you into his own bed, and rolls out his futon to sleep on the floor. 
A quiet type of love, subtle, something that seeps into your bones down to the marrow, the way he loves you. From behind, protective in his silence, the looming of his presence and the sharpness of his glare. From afar, watching through the glass of a window as you’re dragged along by your friends to sit outside, watching as you bathe in the sun and laugh, making memories with those close to you all while he watches from a classroom, unknowingly sharing in those memories with you. 
He loves you from the floor, curled up with his teeth sinking into the fluff of his pillow, hand cupped loose between his legs and trying so hard to resist the temptation to relieve the ache there. He loves you in how he holds himself back. 
If anyone asked about the percentage of effort that Tsukishima Kei puts into different things, there would be a few categories. Volleyball, which gets a hundred percent of his effort about half of the time. His education, which gets a hundred percent for the other half of his time. 
And the last category would be the effort in which Kei puts into loving you like a normal brother should, a hundred percent of his complete, undivided focus, for a hundred and one percent of the time. He loves you the way that is clean, normal, accepted, and he doesn’t waver.
No matter the temptation. Not when he rubs his thumb against your bottom lip to chase away the remnants of a dessert, telling himself that it’s because it’s his job as your brother to keep you from making a mess of yourself. Not because he wants to touch you, needs to touch you. 
Not when you’re sitting next to him to watch a movie and he’s overthinking putting his arm around you. Akiteru does it, you do it, and it would be normal if it wasn’t him, but he wants to. 
And he shouldn’t, because if he lets himself have even that much, he’ll never stop wanting more. 
So he’ll play the role he was given. Born to be your family, he thinks fate just fucked up by letting him love you the way he does. He resigns himself to the part of ‘big brother Kei,’ a name that will stick to him like tar for the rest of his life. 
You pass with high marks on your exams, so high that your mother insists on taking you all out for a nice dinner. 
Honestly, you’d be happy to celebrate by sleeping in, but it gives mom an excuse to dress nice and she’s been working hard lately to give you and Kei the chance to focus on studying, you think this might be just as much for her as it is for you.
You dress up a little, slacks and a nice shirt, warm-pressed and unbuttoned low to the hollow of your throat. Kei matches you, accidentally, though his shirt is a dark green. You grin at him, unperturbed when he rolls his eyes and goes downstairs. 
“Akiteru is waiting for us there, but he’ll be coming home with us.” Mom hums, slipping in a pair of earrings that sparkle, her hair loosely curled with a dusting of blush high on her cheeks. 
Your snarky grin softens, watching her twist in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway, where Kei comes up from behind her and holds her hair out of the way so she can actually snap the piercing shut. 
“Thank you, dear.” She pats him once on the shoulder, having to tilt her head back just to look up at him properly. “I swear, you get taller every time I turn around.” She remarks, dry, before reaching for her purse on the couch. 
“I can whack him in the kneecaps, might knock him down by a foot or two.” You pretend not to notice as he whips around to face you, you can practically hear his sharp retort already so you hurry to follow your mom as she heads out to the car, Kei right behind, grumbling beneath his breath. 
Mom lets you pick the music that plays during the drive, which is moot because Kei has his earbuds in and she’ll listen to anything, but you take the chance to show her a few new songs on your phone that you’d found recently, and she shimmies a little in her seat with you in a makeshift dance as you lip sync along to each one. 
It’s nice, playful, you’ve been so high-strung about tests and notes that you haven’t been able to let loose much, and as you catch the smile curling on your mom’s mouth and hear the quiet, muffled chuckles from your brother in the seat behind you, you finally feel like the hard part is over. Safe to let down your guard, to stop dreading the next incoming paper or assignment due. 
Akiteru is indeed waiting for you, not inside like you expect, but out in the parking lot with a bright smile splitting across his face. The car has barely rolled to a stop before he’s opening the door, looping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug. 
You’re laughing, half-squealing as he drags you out of your seat and practically bends his spine to wrap himself around you. “I’m so proud!!” He chokes, face wet with tears even though he’d already cried for half an hour when you first called to tell him you passed everything with top marks. 
“You already said that.” Kei intones, slowly unfolding himself from the back and straightening up, grimacing as he rubs the side of his neck. “A lot, actually.” 
“And he’ll say it again, I’m sure.” Mom agrees, sidling up to the three of you with her phone out for pictures. Akiteru keeps you pinned against his side before you can try to break away, his other arm stretching out to wave Kei closer. 
After a clear conflict of interests, the second sibling finally joins the group hug, long arm wrapped around Akiteru’s back so his hand hovers over the base of your spine, warm through the thin material of your button down. 
Once she’s gotten her fill of taking pictures, you take the phone from her and then pull her in, flipping the camera around and stretching your arm out to fit the four of you in the frame. Mom laughs, breathy, and smiles big when you take the shot, Akiteru pressing in close so his chin is on your shoulder, Kei in the background hovering like a gargoyle. 
You snicker, and then hand the phone back after sending a copy of it to yourself for later. 
The restaurant is nice, if a little pricier than you’re used to, you find yourself sticking close to Akiteru as you’re guided to a table. He smiles down at you, a hand on your shoulder that squeezes when you get too tense, reminding you silently to ease up. 
With you and Akiteru on one side, Kei and mom on the other, you’re tucked securely against the wall with a menu propped up over your face to hide the way your eyes blink heavy with fatigue. 
They tease you when you inevitably doze off at the table, nearly face planting the glass of bubbly juice that Kei had ordered for you because you hadn’t responded when the waiter asked. 
Dinner is mainly spent with Akiteru catching you all up on various things since you and Kei have been buried in books, and mom prefers to just listen while she eats. There’s the gentle clink of glass and ceramic as dishes are passed around, a bowl of warm rice in your hands that smells a little floral, a little sweet.
Kei doesn’t complain when you steal the last of his tempura, but he’s quick to get revenge in the form of scooping up the final few bites of your cake while you’re distracted with your drink. You kick at him beneath the table, Akiteru quietly scolds you, and your mom watches with a serene smile on her face, chin in hand while the three of you bicker until it’s time to leave.  
So Akiteru can sit up front with mom, you slide into the back seat with Kei. Full and happy, you settle in with no complaints. 
And when he shifts, leans a little closer and lifts his arm in a silent invitation, you take it happily and curl up against his side. He rests his head atop of yours when you lower it to his shoulder, oddly affectionate, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin at the bend of your elbow. 
He lets you cuddle in close, silent even when you keep moving around and knock the glasses from his face, he simply puts them aside and presses his cheek to crown of your head. 
It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep like that, and it takes even less time for your mother to speak up, barely a whisper. 
“Have you told her yet? About college?” 
A soft, wistful sigh. “Not yet.” 
Akiteru tsks quietly, a disapproving and worried frown reflected back in the rearview mirror. “You know she won’t like finding out at the last minute that you’re leaving. It will be easier if you tell her before you have to go” He gives a rueful smile, reminiscing. “It’s always worse when your little sibling finds out you’ve been hiding something from them, even more if they find out from somewhere other than you.” 
He knows. Akiteru knows that he knows, too. But as Kei looks down at you, your hand fisted in the dark material of his slacks, straining against the restrictive hold of the seat belt just to lean into him, he knows that this is different. More than a brother just leaving his sister at home. 
It hurts so much more, in too many ways that it shouldn’t. 
Karasuno vs. Itachiyama. 
Every scored point, no matter the side, feels like a kick to the gut. You’re on edge, hands gripping hot metal rails until your fingers ache as you watch the game from the stands. 
If they win this match, they’ll only have two more until they win Nationals. You can see it in every one of them, how they chase after each wayward ball as though their literal life hinges on it. Hinata is a monster, everywhere on the court that he can be, boundless energy that seems to push the rest of his team on even when they want to collapse. Kageyama is pushed further, dragged by the energy of their decoy, exhausted but still at the peak of his game. Tadashi, the captain, a sturdy presence that eases the younger members of their team, Yachi on the sidelines cheering until surely her throat is hoarse. 
Kei. Their strategy, controlling the moves of his spikers to manipulate the other side, chasing after the ball until there’s nowhere left for it to go. Giving it his all.
You think back to the beginning, when you were still waddling beside your mother as she brought you to your big brother's first middle school game. Deceptively uncaring, you could see beneath the facade even then, the tiniest grit to his jaw as he pushed himself to do better, to be better with every missed block. 
Now it’s a face he wears openly, the raw determination to be faster, stronger, no longer locked behind a mask of disinterest. He thrives, he flies. 
They lose. 
Ranked third in the nation, still such a long way from where they started, and yet still not enough. They won’t get to be on the court the longest. 
Kei is inconsolable. Impassive, stone-faced as they load up the van for the drive back to Karasuno. He doesn’t look at you, but you’ve come to know what to expect for his losses. 
You greet everyone else first, taking a red-faced Hinata into your arms, rubbing between Kageyama’s shoulder blades while he hunches over, fists to his eyes, lips pulled between his teeth.
The loss gets harder the higher they climb, the fall sharper, more lethal. To come so far and still fail is the most exquisite kind of agony. 
Tadashi wears a confident smile, comforting the second and first years while assuring them that next year, they’ll make it even further. His eyes are red-rimmed, face a little puffy, and you know how badly he wishes that this year they’d be going even further. 
Kei gives you nothing, barely a tilt of his head in your direction before he’s on the bus, headphones up and music loud. You stay there until the rest of the team joins him, waving from the parking lot as they begin the ride home, and you trudge back to the front of the stadium to meet up with Akiteru. It’s a quiet drive, both of you understanding in different ways the pain your brother is going through right now. 
He waits until you’re in the driveway to speak. 
“He won’t let me comfort him.” A soft beginning, not so pained as it used to be. “I’ll leave him to you, okay? Leave everything else to me, just be there for him.” 
“Always.” You croak, because there’s not a single other thing you could imagine doing, not while Kei needs you.  
He hugs you tight, grasping at the back of your head and pressing his forehead to yours with a shaky sigh. Something unspoken, soft, a secret held back, before he’s giving you a chaste kiss to the temple and shooing you out of the car so he can go hunting for Kei’s favorite dessert at so late an hour. 
You go to your room first, changing into pajamas and plugging your phone in to charge, then you move to Kei’s. Crawling onto his bed, you tuck yourself beneath his covers and wait, face buried in his pillow and head fuzzy with his scent. 
It’s no real surprise that you end up dozing off, only awoken by the quiet click of the door as it's pushed shut. The lights are still off, but you can hear him, the wet, heavy sound of his breathing, choked like his throat is too tight, clogged with emotions. He drops his things, falls to his knees on the mattress, searching blindly, then you’re up and moving towards him. 
He sobs into your neck, a broken sound, as you pull him back and lock your arms around him. Kei curls into you, hard shudders that shake him no matter how tightly you squeeze. He clings to you, hands at your sides, fingers curling against your ribs and tugging on your shirt to coax you closer. 
You weren’t prepared for this kind of reaction. 
At the most, he’s let you hold him a little while he tries to distract himself by doing something else, or he sits with you listening to music while you do homework. Tense and always pained with the loss, but more at ease in your company. Never this open, never this raw, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him cry before. 
You wrap yourself around him as much as you can, slotting your leg between his to press in close, pushing forward into the dip he creates as he bends. It’s a stretch, almost uncomfortable, but you feel the way he shivers and hugs onto you tighter as you move, pressing you in with a hand at your waist until you’re fully entwined. 
Another sharp, ragged sob, lips wet against your collar as he tries to muffle it, tries to keep himself quiet, contained. 
You coo at him, a hand between his shoulder blades, the other at the back of his head, fingers threading through the hair at his nape to keep him from pulling away in shame. It’s not a form of comfort you’re used to offering, Akiteru was never the type to let you see him in any other state than happy when growing up, and Kei was more than content to keep most of his emotions locked away, spurning most forms of physical affection. This is new, uncharted territory, even touchy as you are, Kei is only ever willing to endure so much before pushing you away. 
He doesn’t this time, though. He stays in your arms and cries until he can’t, and then he stays wrapped up in you until he falls asleep. Breaths evened out, a slackened grip, he nuzzles into your neck and makes a soft, sleepy sort of hum that nearly has you jaw-dropped and gasping. 
He fell asleep on you, wrapped in your arms, beneath the covers of his bed with tears still drying on his cheeks. Kei did. 
You choke back a sob of your own, locking it behind your teeth as you press your lips to his hair, shocked at the intensity of your feelings, the tightness in your chest that eases like a blooming flower, petals unfurled. 
Is it normal to feel so strongly about a sport you’re only interested in because of your brother, you wonder, with your hands buried in his hair to scratch slow circles into his scalp. Would you have cried this hard at a loss for Akiteru, a more traitorous part of your brain wonders next. 
The next morning is…strange. 
You wake up pressed between Kei’s arms, your leg cocked over his hip with one of his hands cupping the back of your head, squishing your cheek into his chest. Somewhere along the night he’d shifted, apparently, and twisted around to clutch at you like a pillow. The blankets are low and tangled, cold air raising the hair along your arms. You whine quietly and try to squirm away, but his clingy embrace tightens, bringing you closer, his body bowing around you as he curls inwards. 
“Kei…” Your voice is a little raspy, throat dry, and he lets out a soft groan in reply, fingers digging tight into your back. 
“Shut up.” He grunts, just as hoarse, more so after his crying last night. 
“Lemme up…’m thirsty.” 
“So?” 
You whine louder, pushing against his chest, trying to pry yourself away but he’s already stronger than you on a bad day, let alone when you’ve just woken up and your body is still sleepy. “Please?” 
He stiffens a little, head craned back to squint down at you, bangs falling in his eyes. 
Thoughtlessly, you wriggle a hand free from the tight press between your bodies and reach to brush the hair from his face, fingers combing through and moving to tuck it behind his ear. Too short for that, it falls back into its original place. “You should ask mom to trim your hair.” 
He watches you through sleepy eyes, half-lidded, a streak of light cutting across his face from between his blinds. When your fingertips brush over his skin, his lips part, a soundless sigh before his throat bobs with a weak swallow. “Okay.” He murmurs, gaze far away. 
“Could dye it, too. I think you’d look good with ginger hair.” 
Another soft hum, contemplative. “Okay.” 
Your smile widens, and his head tilts with it, a dreamy expression that you’ve never seen on him before. “You’re just agreeing with everything I say, aren’t you, Kei?” 
His lashes flutter at the way you say his name, dipping low against flushing cheeks, you see his lips threaten to twitch into a smile. “Okay.” 
You can’t stifle your laughter, this time. A sharp bark of a cackle, you slap a hand over your mouth and try to turn away so you aren't laughing directly into his face. That wakes him up quickly, eyes narrowed sharp as he drops his arms from around you like lead, scowl already tugging at his lips. 
“You’re too loud.” 
You snort, rolling away now that he’s finally done holding you hostage, having to practically crawl over him to get off of the bed. “Go back to sleep, then. Gonna make breakfast.” 
Despite the way he huffs and quietly mutters, he follows you down to the kitchen, still dressed in his uniform from last night. He’s uncharacteristically clingy, in a way. He hovers while you look around for what to make, just behind you or off to the side, watching with eyes still murky with sleep. It hasn’t hit him yet that he left his glasses upstairs, so he’s squinting in order to see you clearly. 
As you lean down to look into the fridge, you find a pretty plastic container with a whole strawberry cake inside. A little sticky note on the top reads– Mom and I are going shopping for the day, be back later! 
–Akiteru
Then, below that– I left you some money for pizza in the silverware drawer, love you! 
-Mom
You coo softly as you pull out the container, turning to Kei with a smile. “Cake for breakfast?” 
He stares at you, eyes dipping from your face to the cake in your hands, then back up. “That sounds like a horrible idea.” 
You bump your hip against him and carry it over to the counter, popping the top off and reaching for a clean knife. “Suit yourself, more for me.” 
He sounds significantly more awake now. “You’re not eating that entire thing?” He comes up behind you, leaning over your shoulder to watch as you cut a large slice out of the pretty dessert. 
“Why not? There’s nobody I gotta share it with. Certainly not my most favorite big brother.” You sweeten your voice, sticky like frosting, and he scoffs, pushing at your back so you bump into the counter. 
“Whatever, cut me a piece too.” He slinks away back towards the fridge, long arms stretching up to reach for a paper cup at the top. You cut an equal portion of cake for him as well, placing each on a paper plate so you don’t have any dishes to do later. 
As you pass him his plate, he passes you a glass of water, which you take with a short ‘thanks’ before swallowing a quick, cold mouthful. 
Bliss against your raw throat, you drink half of the glass before refilling it. Watching you, Kei pokes at his cake with a fork, eyes heavy with a strange sort of softness. His face is still a little red, puffy from the long hours of crying, but his shoulders don’t sag so much and he looks like he carries himself a little lighter, teasing you when you manage to get a little cream at the corner of your mouth. 
As his thumb grazes over your bottom lip, you look up at him with new eyes, a new light after last night. The touch lingers, heavier before he pulls away. 
You carry your cake into the living room to put on a movie, pleased when he joins you shortly after. Starting on opposite ends, as you finish your breakfast and set aside your plates, he lets you crawl between his legs and lay on his chest, sprawled together with his hand curving around the nape of your neck, fingers thick in your hair and circling your scalp. 
It amazes you to see him like this, open and blatant in his affection. Accepting as you cuddle close, not even putting up a fight when you poke fun at him during the end credits because it’s only then that he realizes he isn’t wearing his glasses. 
It’s a new side of Kei, of someone you’ve known your entire life. You think it makes you love him a little more, something sweet and nice. 
You think it makes you love him a little different. 
It’s a cold shock the day he leaves. 
Not even a week after graduation, you wake that morning to find cars outside and Kei’s friends in the house, helping him move his things. 
Hinata greets you kindly, cheerfully at so early an hour, while you stand in the hall gaping in your pajamas. “Hi, little Tsukishima!”
“Hi?” You blink, stepping back when he moves closer to you, and something registers in his eyes at the sight of you, uncertain and still clearly murky with sleep. He backs off. “What’re you doing here? Why do you have Kei’s stuff?” 
He mirrors your blink, cat-like. “We’re helping him move, he said he’d need some help driving his things to the apartment.” 
“Apartment?” You echo, stunned fully awake. “He’s moving?” 
Hinata freezes, just as Kei is coming up the stairs. While slow at first, the footsteps hasten when the sharp crack of your voice pitches even higher. He stumbles up to the top step, sweaty and clearly having been busy for longer than you’ve been awake. His face pales several shades when he first catches sight of you, the tears welling up in your eyes, the panicked look Hinata wears. “Fuck. Wait, don’t–” 
Twenty-two steps from one end of the hall to the other. Seventeen from the stairs to your room, it only takes Kei nine to reach you, choking on an apology that he’s never given you before. 
It only takes two for you to slam and lock the door. 
He doesn’t try to get you to come out for the rest of the day. His things have been packed, you hear him saying goodbye to mom downstairs, hear him come up to your room one more time to wait, leaning against the door but not saying a thing. You don’t open it. 
When he leaves, you scream. Muffled into your pillow, raw and angry, tears hot against your face. 
It shouldn’t be this way, you shouldn’t feel like he’s betrayed you by going away for college. It shouldn’t break your heart to think that Kei might be leaving you behind, you’re family.
But you do, and it does.  
Kei calls home often. 
More than you would have thought, actually. A surprisingly dutiful son. He checks in with mom every few days, asks about her work, about her friends, following up on whatever they happened to have talked about in the previous conversation. 
He asks about you. 
You know, because whenever you’re in the same room as her while she’s talking to him, her voice will soften considerably. Almost a whisper, and she’ll hunch down in her seat a little, or she’ll suddenly have to leave the room. 
Unlike most of her children, she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. You must get it from her. 
Which is why she’s worried, because it’s been easy for you. Easy to pretend like you aren’t hurting. Your summer is spent with your friends, or at the library. You visit the beach twice and buy a cactus to take care of. You make memories, you keep busy. 
He comes home once before you go back to school, Akiteru mentions it one night after he gets off of work. He tells you that Kei is coming home for a weekend, you write down the date and try not to feel guilty at the way he seems happy about it. 
The next day you schedule a sleepover with your best friend Kaoruko to get out of the house, and it's your second visit to the beach. She sits in the sand with you while you wade through the shallows and pick up crabs and anemones, laughs when she thinks you’re being weird and holds you when you break and begin to cry. He texts once, to let you know that he’s home, and calls the night before he leaves. 
You don’t answer. 
The start to your second year is quiet. You walk by yourself on your first day, phone buzzing with texts from Akiteru wishing you luck, and a single one from Kei telling you to be safe. 
You tell Akiteru that you’ll text him during lunch, and slip your phone into your locker. There are familiar faces that you find between classes, new students that you show to their homeroom along the way to your own, and already an influx of people advertising for clubs, just as early as last year. 
And life goes on. 
You find a balance, and mom has been good with helping you maintain it, already on her third go-around for moody teenagers. She knows when to let you break rules, when to be more firm, and how to gently push your boundaries without hurting you. Your rebellious phase doesn’t last long, though Akiteru still has the record for mama’s boy, you think. 
School is easy, in a way. You make friends, lose some, keep a precious few closer than ever. You argue with teachers, suffer through group projects, write a paper about your trips to the beach detailing all of the different kinds of fish you saw, you go to every volleyball match and text Kei for every win. 
That’s the first text you send him, after it all. Weeks of ignored messages, just for a few words from you to break his streak. 
You 7:84 PM 
We won the game. 
He already knew that Karasuno had won the match, one of his old teammates had texted him the moment they were off the court to let him know. What mattered was that it came from you, and it told him so much that he had desperately needed to know. 
That you haven’t deleted his number, that you still care enough to talk to him. That you’re still checking in with your friends from his old team, that he hasn’t ruined what little you liked about volleyball like Akiteru had with him. 
You don’t respond when he texts back, but he’s fine for now with just this. He can handle you being angry with him, could even endure it if you hated him, but not having you at all just does not feel like an option. 
Mom lets you get away with avoiding him on the holidays, though you know she doesn’t like it. You’ve only passed him once, briefly, catching him just as he rounded the corner as you were heading back into your room. His eyes had blown wide, a stutter in his step as he stumbled at the top of the stairs with your name on his lips. You cut it off quick by shutting your door. 
The hard edge of your anger has faded, but the hurt remains, and with it the confusion as to why it does. You compare it to Akiteru leaving for college, and can think of nothing to explain it other than Kei keeping the fact that he was moving away a secret. From you specifically. 
It lasts for too long, the silence, the ignored texts broken up only when you tell him that Karasuno won a game. It’s eating at both of you, but no matter how often Kei tries to reach out, you can never bring yourself to reciprocate. Too hurt, and too embarrassed that you are. 
Still, in tune with you as always, he has a way to break the stalemate yet again. 
For your birthday, he has a gift delivered that mom wraps up for you. A textbook for marine science, heavy and with notations lining the margins, something clearly used, clearly well-loved. And, beyond that, an envelope tucked just beneath the cover with tickets to a guided tour for a temporary museum exhibit on the Mariana Trench. They’ve been preemptively filled out with yours and your best friend’s names. 
You stare down at the book for a long time, fingers tracing the pages as you flip through them, and it hits you a mere twelve pages in that the scrawl is familiar. It’s clean and careful, precise, but there’s a little curl on the ends of some of his kanji that he picked up from you. It’s his handwriting. He doesn’t even like marine science, and he still– 
You call him crying, then. In the shower, sobbing, phone pressed to your wet cheek as you thank him and apologize for ignoring him for so long. He’s so soft, crooning at you to turn off the water until you’re done, talking to you while you try to catch your hiccup-y breath. 
He’s the last one to wish you happy birthday, an hour before midnight while you tuck yourself into bed with him still on the phone, he teases you when you sniffle too much and you threaten to hang up if he keeps making fun of you. 
He stays well after you fall asleep, phone pushed to the far side of his desk so the sounds of his keyboard don’t wake you up, music turned down so that it doesn’t completely stifle the steady sound of your breathing. 
Lighter than you’ve been since he left, you manage to sleep soundly through the night. More than that, he’s still on the phone when you wake up to tell you good morning. 
Halfway through the school year you become a manager for the volleyball team. You’re familiar with most of the boys already from when Kei and Tadashi were there, so you already have a good dynamic built that Coach Ukai asks you to use for keeping them in line. 
You don’t tell Kei, but he finds out from mom anyway, and when you call him next he teases you about missing him so much that you had to go and manage his old team for him. 
You hang up that call immediately, and ignore him twice when he tries to call back, only picking up on the third to hear his stifled laughter on the other end. You tell him that he makes fun of you too much, and he just replies that you deserve it. 
Secretly, you think he likes it, pleased in a strange way that you would take his former team under your wing after he left. 
School is busy, for both you and Kei. He doesn’t manage to visit much, and now it’s that every time he does, you’re away at a training camp with the team. 
You don’t see him again until Christmas. 
You didn’t even know he was coming back, he’d left it so up in the air on whether or not he’d be able to get away, you were going with the assumption that he wouldn’t be able to make it in time. 
It’s what you thought, but Kei decided it would be nice to surprise you. In your bed. 
When you wake up a little warmer than usual, you chalk it up to mom turning up the heat and try to snuggle back beneath your covers. Something is draped loose and heavy over your stomach, and it squeezes when you start to squirm. Warmth ghosts over your neck, fingers sink into the soft of your lower belly, pulling you in, and you scream as your tired brain registers that there is another body in your bed. 
He laughs at you while you smack him with your pillow, uncaring when his glasses are flung to the floor. He catches you by the waist, pulls you back in, buries his face into your neck and just breathes. Ignoring your struggle completely, he does make a show of carefully petting you, like he’s trying to help you settle. At first, it only frustrates you more, but as you finally take in the scent of him, the rough cadence to his voice as he laughs, you realize just how long it’s been since you were like this with him. 
You’re struck by it, the intimacy, a shy hand hovering over the back of his head, suddenly unsure. It feels so different now, with the way he seems to bask in you, like it’s something to be relished. 
As your arms come around him, he fits oddly against your shape, different. He’s wider now, thicker around the shoulders, his hands firm in a way they had previously been uncertain as they glide up and down your back. 
“Welcome home.” You murmur, tinged with an undercurrent of trepidation. 
He sighs against you, wistful and relieved. “Yeah, thanks.” He says it soft, like the fluffy top layer of snow that glitters beneath the sun. Kei doesn’t usually let himself sound like this, not unless he’s slipping. 
You try not to let yourself enjoy it too much, worried at how it makes you feel, the heat in your face and the unsteady kick of your heart. 
He’s home for a week, but you aren’t. Splitting your holiday break between friends that you had previously made plans with, you don’t actually get to see him as much as you’d like. He’s reconnecting as well, so the odd times that you are home, you can only catch him for a few minutes before he’s being dragged out the door. 
Christmas eve, though, you creep downstairs with a blanket tucked beneath your arm, pillow in hand. Since Kei and Akiteru will both be home on Christmas day, mom had gone all out with wrapping presents, pretty bows and glittery ribbons, you gently nudge them all out of the way to make space for your makeshift bed. 
You’ve done this every year. Ever since you were a toddler, mom jokes. 
When you were still just a baby, she had been awake with you all night on Christmas eve, trying everything from warm milk to lullabies to rocking you back and forth to make you sleep, but you were fussy and disgruntled. Rather than taking you upstairs and risking your crying waking Kei and Akiteru, she sat beneath the decorated tree to let you play with the lights and ornaments. Instead of being entertained, even with the glow of greens and blues shining back in your eyes, you’d drifted off to sleep. It’s become more of a gag, but mom always has the biggest smile when she comes down to find you curled up beneath the tree, the colorful lights shimmering in your hair. Oftentimes Akiteru would wake up in the middle of the night and bring you an extra blanket during the colder years, or he’d sit with you if it was too late to fall back asleep, but too early to wake everyone up to open presents. 
A silly little habit, maybe, but it’s given you fond memories. 
This year, as you bed down for the night tucked away amidst the plethora of gifts and lights, the sound of creaking floorboards makes you tense.
It’s just Kei, though, a blanket draped over his shoulder as he comes down the stairs, glasses missing and eyes a little narrowed, searching through the dim lighting of the room until they settle on you. 
“Kei?” 
He shushes you, settling down just beside you and nudging you over until he’s sharing your pillow, tugging his blanket over your body until you’re both wrapped up in it. He lays on his side, watching you with heavy eyes, illuminated by the wealth of lights just above his head. 
“This is my thing.” You tell him, letting him in anyway. 
He rolls his eyes, smiling as he stretches an arm out, an invitation you take by tucking yourself into the crook of it, snuggling close with a happy little sigh. You can’t feel the way the tension eases out of him, already drifting off to sleep, but he melts around you like sugar in hot tea. Softened, pressing little kisses to the top of your head, breathing for the first time in what feels like a year, since he first choked on a gasp at the sight of you in your doorway, eyes red with tears, still in your wrinkled pajamas. 
It’s the best night of sleep he’s had since the night he lost against Itachiyama. 
– 
You wake up to Kei’s low, raspy voice telling someone to ‘shhhh!’ with a tight hand pressed to the back of your head, followed by the high pitched sound of Akiteru giggling. 
With a quiet groan, you roll onto your back and blink against the harsh christmas lights. This lasts for only a moment before you’re covering your eyes and curling into Kei once more, regretting your decision to wake up. His arm comes back around you, rubbing your shoulder, and Akiteru moves closer. 
“Merry Christmas.” He whispers, a gentle hand petting the back of your head. “C’mon, mom is making breakfast.” 
“Lemme sleep.” You mutter, batting his hand away and trying to hide your face in Kei’s neck, though it’s ruined by the low vibration of his quiet laughter. 
Electing to have mercy on you, Akitery retreats to the kitchen, leaving Kei to make an attempt at gently rousing you. 
“Wake up.” 
You groan, loud, dramatic, bumping his shoulder with your forehead. “No.” 
He jostles you, pulling on your blanket, poking at your face until you hiss and slap at his hand. He catches it, drags you in and rolls onto his back so you’re sprawled over him. “Get up.” 
“Can’t make me.” You argue, pulling your skewed blanket up over your shoulders and making to get comfortable, right there on his chest.  
The tip of his nose maps a line down your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw as he hums thoughtfully, hand splayed wide over your lower back. “I’ll let you open my present first if you get up.” 
You pause, bracing on your elbows to lift yourself up and peer down at him. “Why does that matter?” 
He grins, a little smugly, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Who knows? I could be bluffing. Maybe I didn’t even get you anything this year.” 
Your eyes narrow, flicking out towards the pile of presents as if you might be able to guess which one might be from him, but his hand comes up and cups the side of your face to block your view, coaxing you into looking back down at him. 
“I got you something nice, the least you can do is behave long enough to get it.” He smirks when you glower at him, a scary little scowl that he’s sure you picked up from the few times Yachi ever got angry. 
Begrudgingly, you let him drag you to your feet, his arm finding home around your waist as he walks with you into the kitchen. Mom greets you with a hug and a quick kiss, a whisper of ‘Merry Christmas’ against your temple. 
The gifts go by slowly, everyone lingering in the moment. You’re the only one without a source of income, so you had to get a little more creative. 
Your gift to mom is a painting of her favorite type of bird, some sort of hawk, that you’d requested from a friend you made in the art club. It cost you several weeks worth of classroom cleaning shifts that you picked up in their stead, but the brilliant smile on her face at the sight is worth it. 
Akiteru’s gift came with Saeko Tanaka’s name attached as well for a few reasons, as she’d helped you gather several photos from his highschool and college days, off and on the court, that you stitched into a scrapbook with other pictures from throughout yours and Kei’s childhood. Mom tears up at the sight of it, but it’s not until Akiteru gets to the last page that his head snaps up, watery eyes locked onto your face. 
The other reason her name is on the tag is that the last picture is an ultrasound. 
You, mom, and Kei are completely unphased when Saeko slips out from behind the entryway to the front hall, watching as tears pour down his face and his hands clap over his mouth. When her arms come around his shoulders from behind, he’s immediately up and rounding the couch, she’s barely even able to get a laugh out before he has her up in the air, holding her tight. 
Mom is quick to warn him to be gentle, already fretting. You have your phone out to record, and Kei is holding a box in his lap, fingers stroking the lace edge of the ribbon tied at the top. There’s a smile on his face, soft and barely there, feeling you press into his shoulder as you lean in to get a better angle from around your mom. 
His arm comes around you, drawing you in, and he bumps you with his cheek gently. “Can I open mine now?” 
You give him half a glance, a flutter of nerves in your throat. “No, you have to save it for next year. Sorry.” 
He rolls his eyes and gently pulls apart the ribbon, and you nearly groan when he begins to carefully peel away the tape from wrapping paper. His lips curl, half a smile, and you know he’s doing it on purpose. 
“I’ll open it for you if you don’t hurry.” You mutter, hoping your voice is quiet enough that the mic on your phone won’t catch it. 
“Open your own.” He huffs, but does give up on meticulously dissecting your wrapping. 
When he opens it to find an empty box, he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, both in vague disbelief and dry amusement. 
Clicking off your phone, you drag him into the kitchen with teasing laughter, feeling the narrowed scowl of his eyes blaring into the back of your head. 
It softens when you pull a homemade cake from the fridge, perhaps not as pretty as one from a store, but clearly made with loving intent. Your expression is a little shy, a little embarrassed, and your shoulders bend inwards as you hold it out to him. 
“Asked mom to show me how to bake one.” You mumble, trying not to shy away when he leans in close to hear you. “You said you like hers best, so…” 
Kei melts, removing the tray from your hands and setting it aside to take you back into his arms, squeezing you close as he lets out a soft little sigh into your hair. “I’m sure it’ll be decent.” He lies, fighting a smile when you whine and slap at his chest, frustrated that he’d tease you while you’re so clearly being vulnerable. 
Akiteru stumbles into the kitchen shortly after, wiping his eyes and red in the face, and he perks up at the sight of you two. His eyes drift to the cake, and Kei is quick to shut him down. 
“No.” 
You laugh, hiding your face in his chest while Akiteru comes over to whine, warmth bubbly like fizzy juice as it pops between your ribs, something bright and happy. 
It’s so easy to be like this. 
Later, after everyone has gone to sleep, Kei comes to your room.
A pretty little box in hand, wrapped with pretty blue paper and tied with a softer, silken ribbon. He sits on your bed with your back to his chest, watching as you carefully pull apart the tape, tongue poking out from the corner of your mouth. 
He doesn’t say a word while you gently unwrap the paper, careful not to rip it as you set it aside to add to your growing collection. Patient as you twist the soft, velvety box in your hands, fingers tracing the crease where it opens, wondering at the novelty of it. Certainly different from the books he’d gifted Akiteru, and the fabric for your mother. 
His hands rest against your knees, thumbs teasing at the bunched up hem of your pants, and somehow that’s more distracting than the gift you haven’t even opened yet. 
When you finally crack open the box, a small silver chain nearly falls out. It catches, hangs in the air, sparkles in the dim light filtering in through your blinds. A half swirl of ocean blue that glitters like stained glass, set in a circle of silver that’s polished pretty. New. 
You swallow, shrinking in as something warm blooms over your cheeks. “Kei, this is–” 
“It’s fine.” He interrupts, still soft. “Don’t. Do you like it?” 
A whisper. “Yeah.” 
He turns his wrist over, palm up, fingers curling in. “Then let me put it on.” 
The silver chain looks so much more delicate in his hand, but he handles the clasp easily, the pretty pendant resting just below the hollow of your throat. His fingers trace over it, following the curve of the chain down, and your head tilts back on instinct to make the trek easy. 
“Thought of you when I saw it.” He sighs, wrapping his arms loose around your middle and squeezing. “Merry Christmas.” 
For the second night in a row, you fall asleep in Kei’s arms. 
He’s only home a few more days before he has to leave, Christmas break is over. 
This parting is easier, if only because it will only hurt until you see him again, not for a wealth of other reasons. He hugs you tight, teases you, suffers through Akiteru’s physical affection and the doting of mom before he has to climb into his car and start the drive back to the city. 
He calls you when he gets home, and you don’t like it because it makes you miss him, the sound of his voice, the way his breath skims over your hair when he whispers while holding you. 
You’re pretty sure that isn’t normal, either. 
Even more so when, as you’re doing laundry, you realize he left one of his shirts behind. Comfortable, well-worn, you pull it over your head and feel something warm fluttering in your stomach, and as you catch your reflection in passing you see that your face is blushed. 
You start wearing it to bed, because you don’t have to put any effort into breaking it in and it’s loose and the material is softer than most of your other night clothes. 
Certainly not because, if you tuck your nose against the collar, you can still sort of smell him. 
He doesn’t come home for summer break.
You’re the first one to find out that it’s because he was signed on for a V-league team. 
When he tells you, he’s out of breath, the buzz of city life in the background, and you’re in the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out of your mouth. 
“Huh?” 
He groans, swallows, and tries again, still heaving for air. “Sendai–frogs.” He gasps, voice a little wheezy. “Playing for– the Sendai Frogs.” 
It takes you a moment, after you’ve rinsed out your mouth and put your toothbrush away. 
When it clicks, you nearly scream into the receiver. “Oh my god you’re on a team! An actual team! Not just your shitty college one!” You squeal, far too loud for how late the hour is. 
He laughs, elated, and your joy is now secondhand, cheeks aching with how wide you smile. You’ve never heard him laugh like that, it makes you want to hug him through the phone. 
“Will you tell mom for me? I have to go back inside and sign the contract, I’ll text Akiteru later and let him know.” 
You choke on nothing, stopped short with a breath caught in your throat. “You called me before you even signed the damn thing?” 
Silence, then, a tentative– “No.” 
A quick, sharp exhale puffs past your lips, a feeling so saccharine that it burns you welling up in your chest. “Oh, Kei.” 
He hangs up, but you’re breathless now, beaming so hard that you feel compelled to cover your face, even though the only one around to see it is yourself. But as you peek through the spaces between your fingers and catch a glimpse of the mirror, you realize that even the sight of your own happy reflection is too much. 
– 
Your third year is busier. You’re more hands-on now with the team, joining them on the court to spike or block, to learn what to do through muscle memory so you know what advice to offer them with certain plays. You go to Kei often for tips, talking him through strategies and sending him tapes of your practices so he can go over them with you. And he, reluctantly, puts you in contact with Kageyama and Hinata as well. 
Even with his schedule, juggling college and practice for a professional team, he makes the time for you now. He can’t call every day, but he tries to text at least on those that he can’t. He’s not around as much during the holidays this year, but Tadashi stops by when he’s home to visit. Taller now, and more confident in a way. He doesn’t hover by the door like he used to, uncertain if he was really allowed to be in your home, always overly polite and formal even though you’d practically grown up together anyway. 
He sits with you and watches Kei’s game on the TV, and he even indulges when you ask to send him a selfie of the two of you just to rub it in that he isn’t home for Christmas. He drapes an arm around your shoulder, each of you wearing silly red and green sweaters, him with reindeer antlers sitting crooked atop his head, you with a santa hat. You’re smiling wide, glowing with joy as Tadashi squishes his cheek to yours to fit in close for the picture. You think it’s a nice one, Kei does not seem to agree.  
It earns you a very rude phone call later that night, but the grumpiness of his voice made it seem worth it, the undercurrent of jealousy that was thinly veiled. You tell him that the only way to make sure he doesn’t have to see stuff like that again is to spend Christmas with you every year. 
He calls you a brat, says he spoils you too much, but promises that you’ll be with him for the next one. 
Karasuno vs. Kamomedai
It’s like a sick joke, that in your third year you lose to the same school that Kei lost to in his. Your team places fifth for Nationals, it should be an achievement, you made it so far.
Not far enough. It’s your last year, your last game. 
It’s your loss as much as it is the teams, just as gaping, just as painful. Your eyes burn as you stand with them on the court, as you shake hands with the other team’s manager. Her grip is tight, fierce, her eyes watery even though she’s on the winning side. 
You think she feels it too, that she knows what it’s like, for her this is a victory strongly earned, deserved. 
For you, its unfair, unjust that your boys worked so fucking hard just to lose it all by a few points. 
Volleyball isn’t your passion, but you love it, you love your team, you love what you get to do, the things you’ve learned by helping them, how they’ve in turn help you improve in other ways. It burns in you like acid, the bitter sick of treacle that is too sweet. You stand on that court with them and try to keep yourself contained, sharing eyes with the captain and knowing your composure will be needed for the underclassmen.
At first, you would only text Kei when Karasuno won. It was his team, then, his tally to keep score of. 
Now, it’s yours. Your loss, your heartbreak, so you text him a simple ‘we lost.’ and turn off your phone. 
It’s a full night's ride back home, crammed into the bus with a team full of heartbroken young adults and teenagers. You comfort the first years as much as you can, you take their hands and promise that next year, they’ll go even further. 
You squeeze the other third years tight, the lot of you wishing that this year you would go even further. 
You’re dropped off at the school parking lot, sun cresting just above the treeline, you’re already dreading the walk home. Everyone is tired, sullen, faces puffy from crying and noses dry from too many tissues. 
And there at the front gate, Kei is waiting for you. Earbuds in, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling until he hears the sluggish drag of your footsteps. 
He catches you when you fall into his arms, sobbing, tucking himself around you and murmuring into your ear while you cry into the collar of his shirt. 
You follow him home blindly, vision blurry as you continuously wipe away your tears, other hand held tightly in his so he can lead you. The walk is familiar, bittersweet as you make this trek with him, so far removed from every other time you have. He rubs your knuckles with his thumb, quiet but checking in, tugging you along and hiding your face with his jacket when you have to stop and crouch low just to bawl for a moment. 
It’s slow, but eventually you make it home. Inside, he takes off your shoes for you, pulls you upstairs, crawls with you beneath your covers so he can hold you properly as you fall to pieces. 
There’s nothing you have to say, he already knows everything you’re feeling and you know that he does, but it feels like it will poison you if you don’t get it out, so you do. Bitterly recounting the last few points, the scant difference it would have made, how everyone did their best and it just didn’t measure up. You mourn it, the memories, the slow crawl to the top that you had been desperate to reach. For yourself, for your brothers. The last chance for a Tsukishima to win Nationals. 
He cups your face, squeezes your cheeks when you begin to devolve into actual rambling, pressing his forehead to yours until you calm enough to listen. 
“I’m going to win something better.” He promises you, laying a kiss above your brow. 
Kei stays with you all night, awake while you sleep, comforting you when you come to and feel the rawness of your loss all over again. He’s there when you wake up, a soft, playful little smile that doesn’t fade even after he drags you out of bed. 
You’re grumpy, sore, a little dehydrated, utterly unamused as you follow him unwillingly downstairs, wanting to just wallow beneath your sheets. 
As you’re walking into the kitchen, you’re overwhelmed at the sight of Kei pulling a cake from the fridge, a blue sticky note attached to the top. After you let out perhaps the most ugly crying sound of your life, Kei laughs at you and pulls you in by your wrists, his chin atop your head so you can burrow yourself into his shirt the way you always do when you’re trying to hide.
“I assume you want cake for breakfast?” He teases, so disgustingly careful that it makes you sick with happiness. To be treated gently, especially by him, at a time when you feel so brittle, is surreal.
“That sounds like a horrible idea.” You croak, cracking on the tail end of your jibe. He smiles where you can’t see, even though the memory it brings to mind is tinged with the cut of his own loss. 
“Well,” He drawls, fingers sinking into your hair to curl close to your scalp. “More for me, then.”
The rest of the year is filled to the max with college prep, studying for tests, and preparing a second year to take over as next year’s volleyball manager. 
Ukai is wistful when you talk to him about your plans, a wry smile on his face, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. 
“You’re a lot like him.” He admits, grin turning crooked. “I used to think you two were nothing alike, but I see more of him in you now. Stubborn as hell when you put your mind to something, that’s for sure. I can’t believe you strong-armed me into staying on for another five years.” 
You smile, misty-eyed and a little sharp. “The next suitable coach won’t be out of college for a few more years, I can’t have my boys falling into the wrong hands, now can I?”
He laughs, husky and loud, slapping you too hard on the back once before bracing both hands on his hips and tipping his chin towards the net, the crowd of players ready for practice on the far side of the gym. “Then go make ‘em line up, we’re running receiving drills today and our ace ain’t gonna be happy about it.” 
You give him a mock salute, something sharp twisting in your ribs when he softens and pats the top of your head, sending you off once more to rally your team together. 
Was graduation this hard for Kei? Was he thinking about all of the things he was leaving behind in the middle of all of it? 
You don’t have time for calls as often, always with your face buried in a book. You forget to eat, sometimes, until Akiteru inevitably comes knocking at your bedroom door, takeout in hand because while mom is well aware of how single-minded you can be and knows you’ll eat eventually. Akiteru has never been able to dote on his younger sibling before so he’s taking full advantage of the fact that you won’t turn him away like Kei did. 
And you’ve kept it a secret, so far, the fact that you’ve applied to the same university as Kei. Waiting for the letter has been the bulk of your stress, though you’ve had to play it off on end of the year nerves. If you tell someone, you’ll start to hope, and you can’t hope until you have that letter
You’re exhausted, half-asleep on the phone with Kei after receiving numerous congratulations from the rest of your family on your upcoming graduation. He’s quiet, the faint click of his keyboard audible in the background while you scroll through your messages. 
An email notification pops up at the top of your screen, and you drop your phone when you read the web handle. 
“You okay?” It’s half concerned, voice barely pitching high as Kei listens to you curse and fumble to grab your phone from the floor. 
You don’t answer, biting your lip so hard that it bleeds as you open your email. The anticipation will kill you, throttle you if you don’t open it right now. You don’t have the patience to wait. 
Accepted. 
We are pleased to inform you – accepted – choice between on or off campus– 
“Kei.” You rasp, eyes glassy. 
You can hear the abrupt alertness in his voice, typing immediately ceased. “Are you okay?” 
A slow, shaky breath, building nerves. Unsure if he’ll want you there, unsure if you’re welcome, if this is intruding, things that you’re thinking too late in the game. 
“Want a roommate?” Is all you can manage, breathless, and then you’re laughing. 
“I–what?” 
You forward him the email, delirious and giddy, and he lets out a noise that's a cross between a gasp and a shout when he gets it. 
“You–here? Here?” 
“Full ride.” You whisper, fingers shaking as they curl around your phone. “Marine science, with my volunteer work I can get an internship at a marine lab in the city. A twelve minute bus ride from your apartment.” 
He laughs with you, then, disbelief thick. “You missed me that much?” 
“Do not ruin this for me, I will move in with Tadashi instead.” 
His laugh is more mocking this time, but he doesn’t tell you no, and you let yourself start to hope a little too much. 
At the end, just when you’re about to fall asleep, he murmurs– “I’ll clean up the guest room for you tomorrow.” 
He comes home for your graduation. 
A surprise, since he’d told you that he wouldn’t be able to make it, so he’s caught only slightly off guard when he walks in the front door and mom tells him that you’re out with friends. 
He can’t blame you for that, so he waits upstairs in your room, a little amused at the sight of your clothes all over the floor, the makeup scattered amongst your sheets. You’d gotten ready in a hurry, so he spends time picking up after you, less for you to do when you get back. 
Anxious, anticipating, he’s wholly unprepared for when you walk in the door drunk. You stumble into your bedroom still in your heels, and his mouth dries up. 
Smudged lipstick, disheveled hair, heavy eyes and with too many buttons undone on your shirt, fastened just below your bra to expose the frill of lace against your skin. 
When he looks closer, though, the thing that smothers something fragile in his chest is when he realizes there’s two shades of lipstick blurring together on your lips.
You smile big at the sight of him, eyes bright and more alert, and you fall onto the bed to throw your arms around him. 
“You’re home!” Breathy, hoarse from drinking, you smell like a sickly sweet perfume but he hauls you in close anyway, his eyes burning, hands shaking as they fist in your shirt. 
“Yeah.” He murmurs, heart breaking. “Congratulations, got you a gift.” His voice is rough, he tries to keep it under control, but you’re so sweet right now, nuzzling into his neck, your hands settled on his shoulders for stability. 
“Didn’t have to.” You slur, blinking away the fog, murky and thick. “Jus’ happy to see you, Kei.” 
He swallows around the grit in his throat, teeth clenched. Don’t say my name. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to wait till you move in to get it, and I can always return it before then.” 
You don’t even get angry at his weak jibe, giggling and nosing at his jaw now instead, shiny eyes blinking up at him through pretty lashes, he feels like he’s going to die. His hand squeezes your waist, finding you plush and soft, heart in his throat as you settle between his legs and rest all of your weight against him, cuddling close even though he knows, right now of all times, that he should push you away.
His thumb feathers over your bottom lip, smudged with red and purple, pressing down as if he can feel the phantom sensation of another mouth against yours. It burns, sickly in him, made worse when your tongue dips out warm and wet on his skin. 
It’s only for a second, but he’s starkly aware that he knows what your tongue feels like now, different than playfully licking his hand to make him let you go, it feels intimate, sensual, your eyes heavy-lidded with the flush of alcohol keeping you warm. 
For a hundred and one percent of the time, Kei has dedicated himself to loving you the way he should, anything more is locked tightly away in a box, building and building, far too much for such a tiny space to contain. Infinity would be too little a container for the excess of his love, the overflow, the love that is not shared between a brother and his sister. 
That night, his thumb wiping away your lipstick, the number drops to 99.
You wake up alone, head pounding, tucked in with a glass of water and a pill at your bedside and the taste of death in your mouth. With a groan, you drain half of the cup before even considering taking the pill, but you pop it quickly with a grimace before downing the rest. 
For your first night drinking, you think it could have gone way worse. 
As you lie back, blanket to your chin, you struggle through the events of last night, sorting through murky memories. 
You’d gone out to an izakaya, the lot of you trying your first round of beer to celebrate graduation. Sharing plans, snacks, drinks, everything was passed around at least three times between you all. 
And you have a girlfriend now. 
Unexpectedly, your first kiss is adrenaline fueled, the second with alcohol. Your best friend, reminiscing with you over your highschool years, then lamenting feelings lost. You’d pushed gently, and she told you with a wry grin that someone she loved was moving away, and she’d lost her chance to confess. 
Even tipsy, connecting the dots was easy. Long distance might be hard, and neither of you are deluded about what a same-sex relationship might do to some of your friendships, but you’re going to give it a try. 
You’re nervous. Romantic feelings have never come naturally to you, you’ve never felt that close with anyone so anything beyond a casual crush is a mystery.
Kaoruko is so sweet, though. Kind, skin thick against your snark, you’ve learned all of the things to avoid in your jokes and she knows everything that makes you tick. You think she’d be a good partner, you just wonder if that means she’ll be a good partner for you. 
The door opens, and you’re shocked when a familiar blonde figure steps in, a tray in his hands. “Kei!”
He startles, eyes-wide, and then frowns at you. “What? Don’t talk so loud, mom is still sleeping.” 
Message unnecessary, the sharpness of your own voice has you groaning and clutching at your head. Lesson learned the hard way. 
“I didn’t know you were here!” You whine, reaching for him. He falters, confused and hesitant, before setting the tray on your nightstand and kneeling on your bed so he can lean over to hug you. You clutch at him, breathing him in, feeling the tension in your body dissipate as his hands pass over your back. 
“You saw me last night.” He reminds you quietly, withdrawing even though you complain and try to pull him back in.  
“I did?” You ask, meek, trying to push through the muddle of your memory and finding nothing beyond leaving with your friends. You aren’t even really sure how you made it home.  “I don’t remember. Did I say anything weird?” 
He smirks, head tilted back with an expression so smug that you’re dreading having asked. 
“I don’t know, did you?” He teases, sitting down and pulling your breakfast into his lap, pancakes with cream instead of syrup, sliced strawberries between each layer, and a scoop of ice cream in a little cup on the side. He’s spoiling you, you wonder if mom knows. 
“Tell me!” You grab onto his arm and shake him, though he doesn’t move much, brow raised in thinly veiled amusement as you struggle. “Put me out of my misery! It’ll drive me crazy not knowing!” 
His grin widens, and then he’s shifting the tray over your lap, pointedly silent as he sets a glass of juice on your nightstand, sets down your silverware, and then presses a mocking kiss to your cheek that makes you hiss. “Akiteru and I are going out, behave.” He warns you, playful, watching as you glower up at him with a pretty pout. 
“No.” You deny immediately, picking up a strawberry slice and popping it into your mouth. “I’m gonna set the house on fire while you’re gone.” 
He shrugs with one arm, unperturbed. “You’re moving in with me anyway, the only one that would hurt is mom.” 
For some reason, the reminder makes you giddy. You can’t stifle your smile, almost bashful as you try to cover it with your hands, and he softens, pushes the hair out of your face so it doesn’t get in your pancakes. He lingers against your jaw, fingertips that ghost over your pulse before he’s pulling back, hand curled tight before it’s pushed into his pocket. 
As he’s about to leave, you blurt out his name, instinctive, impulsive, the whirlwind of your thoughts a cacophony. He stops, half turned with a questioning glance tossed over his shoulder, his eyes a bit wide when he sees the clear conflict on your face. 
“What’s wrong?”
You swallow, gaze lowered, hands knotted together as you twist your fingers to stem how they shake. It should probably stay a secret, but the thought of living with Kei and hiding this from him feels unthinkable. “I have a girlfriend.” 
His heart stops, a missing beat, throwing everything that is him off rhythm. You’re looking at your plate, so you miss how his face hardens, how it turns to impassive stone faster than you can blink up to catch it, searching for a reaction and finding none. 
Or so you thought.
You watch, increasingly anxious, as he practically sneers “so?” in such a cold voice that it shocks you, has you recoiling physically in your bed. 
It’s not the reaction you were expecting, it’s both more hostile and somehow uncaring. He looks angry, but then it’s locked behind a mask, that facade you haven’t seen since your first year. 
“I just–” You clear your throat, shaky, blinking against the sudden onslaught of his intensity. “I just wanted you to know.” 
He scoffs, a grating sound, shoulders rounded inwards as he turns back to the door. “Thanks, I guess. Anything else so important that it can’t wait until later?” 
Your face twists, brow pinched near the middle as you swallow your own vitriol. You will not lash out the same as him, even if you really think he might deserve it. “No. That’s all.” You spit, trying not to let yourself cry as he leaves. You’re in so much pain, what was at first just a pounding migraine is now an ache in your chest, something raw and ripped out. You hadn’t expected that. 
The pancakes are sweet, made the way you like them with too much cream even though Kei always says making them this way is a waste of time. It’s your favorite ice cream too, something that he had to have picked up on his own because it was definitely not in the freezer before you left with your friends. 
Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, burning with frustration and guilt. 
You knew it was a risk to tell him, you’ve never had a conversation with anyone in your family about your sexuality before, so it was going to be a shock no matter what. You had worried that he would tell mom and maybe things would devolve, you had been prepared to argue your point if it came to that. 
What you hadn’t prepared for, was whatever the hell he gave you. Something bitter, toxic, a seething, cold anger that felt misdirected. 
Quietly, quietly, you think it looked a lot like jealousy. 
Kei’s friends help with your move, too. 
Hinata is broader, tanner, just as cheerful as he bounds up to greet you. Tame, in a way, that he had not been before he left Japan. He’s calm, less jittery as he carries boxes from upstairs down, taking the heavier ones from you with a smile and some offhand comment to redirect your attention before you get the chance to complain. 
Tadashi is familiar, a little dewy-eyed when he thinks too much about you going to college with him and Kei. Like with highschool, it will only be for a year before they finish their degrees, but the short time is something you hope to treasure. 
Kageyama isn’t able to make it, but he does actually remember to send you a text wishing you luck. It’s a little stiff, a little formal, but the fact that he reached out at all makes you feel fuzzy inside. 
It’s a nice contrast to the frost in your lungs whenever Kei catches your eye. 
Quiet, talking only when he needs to confirm that you’re taking or leaving something specific, or pulling you out of the way with a loose hand that drops as soon as it can. You hate it, you hadn’t thought moving in with him would be so stressful. 
It’s worse when Kaoruko comes to see you off. 
A tight hug is the most you can manage with so many people around, but she squeezes you and makes you promise again and again to call her, to visit on holidays and send her the first college hoodie you purchase so she can wear it instead. 
The others busy themselves with checking traffic in the city and planning out their routes to get to the apartment within a decent time frame, giving you the space to hold her, but you can feel Kei’s eyes on you. Like a brand, the weight of his attention makes you breathless, something wrong, something twisted. Guilt. 
It makes you angry, you’re firm in that you have no reason to feel guilty, he has no right to make you feel so bad over being in a relationship with a woman. Brazen, you give her a kiss to the forehead, soft and slow, uncaring now in the height of your adrenaline who sees. Hinata and Tadashi are unphased, but Kei’s face twists, an ugly expression shadowed as his chin tucks close to his chest, as if he can hide the way his eyes flare wide and his mouth presses thin. 
You ride in the car with Tadashi, sure that if you tried to make the trek with Kei then you’d end up killing each other on the way. 
He makes small talk about what your campus will be like, warning you of certain professors and reminiscing about some of his and Kei’s earlier years there, when they first started out together. He doesn’t expect you to talk back, filling the silence because unlike your brother, you don’t like to just sit in it and stew when you’re upset. He distracts you, breaks from the schedule to stop and get ice cream to make you smile even though it puts him behind everyone else on the drive to the city. 
And by the time you get to your new home, you’re laughing and at ease, tension long left back in Miyagi. The others are already inside, sun dropped heavy near the horizon, so you take your time getting your things from his car. It’s cold, a chilly breeze that ruffles the loose fit of your clothes, comfort over function, he shoos you inside while getting the rest of your bags. 
That newfound ease only lasts up until you make it to the front door before your nerves creep back in, the uncertainty, the worry that maybe you aren’t so welcome anymore but Kei just didn’t want to deal with the trouble of telling you to buzz off. It makes you anxious, torn between climbing back into Tadashi’s car to go home and just acting like everything is fine. You are not confident you could do the latter. 
Before you can make a choice, it’s made for you in the form of Hinata spotting you from the window and hurrying to let you inside, a call of your name that bleeds through the wood and alerts the others of your arrival. The door is yanked open, a wide smile to greet you, sunshine incarnate so bright you almost want to squint in the face of it.
Tadashi ushers you inside out of the cold, mindful of the rigid way you carry yourself and offering a reassuring smile when you shoot him a pleading glance, begging him with your eyes to get you out, and him declining with a gentle pat on the head.
Akiteru and Kei are in the kitchen, conversation halted as they turn to watch as you’re, quite unwillingly, coaxed further into the room by Hinata. Yachi intercepts, nobody had even told you she’d be here but you’re overjoyed when she’s quick to pull you into a hug. 
She tells you that she’s proud of how well you did as Karasuno’s manager, hand braced on her hip with the other on your shoulder, beaming wide and you’re struck with the thought that there are now twin suns in the living room and you feel like you’re going to get burned by all the happy fuzzy energy. 
You’re bashful beneath her praise, flustered and shy with your face ducked to hide it, and she coos at you before teasing Kei about how you both react the same to genuine compliments. 
That makes him flush as well, though his expression is significantly more annoyed. It does nothing to detract from the ruddy color on his cheeks. He catches your gaze briefly as you’re taking in your surroundings, but before he can make any sort of face you’ve already looked away. 
You’ve never seen Kei’s apartment before. It’s clean, a little bare, pictures on the wall and shelves lined with books. There’s a lit candle on the kitchen counter, a TV turned on but clearly forgotten on some history channel, vacuum lines still prominent in the carpet from a recent, hasty cleaning job. 
It doesn’t look like home, doesn’t feel like home, and now you’ve come to the strange point where you wish you had stayed in Miyagi, with mom and Akiteru. After coming this far, though, you’re determined to see this through. More for you is here than just Kei, it’s a good college for your major, and the work opportunities are better here. You’ll make it work. 
You have company to dilute the heavy air for a few hours, at least. They stay long enough for dinner, which consists of takeout that Hinata and Kei should definitely not be eating, but they do anyway because you and Yachi had a craving.
You stay cuddled close to Akiteru, mournful in a strange way at the thought of him leaving to go back home. It’s better this way since mom won’t be lonely, but every time you and Kei have given each other the silent treatment, you had Akiteru to comfort you, to visit and call you when you were down. Knowing that he won’t be a simple five minute walk away is foreign, the change of it rattling your foundations. You tuck your face against his neck and let him rub your back with a soft, comforting croon.
He promises to call, gently, so gently, teasing that you’ll get over it quickly enough that you’ll eventually have to start ignoring him because he’s going to pester you so much. His banter is different, it doesn’t bite or sting, more like the plucking of strings to create a tune. He makes you laugh, even when your eyes are glassy. 
You share another quick round of hugs before they have to go, Hinata lightly chiding Kei and making him promise to be nice to you, and Tadashi trying to mediate before Kei can get mad at being told how to treat his sister. Yachi gets your number and offers to take you out sometime to see the city, and as you watch their cars fade out of view down the road, you think that it was nice to have them over. You wonder if you’ll get to invite them over yourself, one day. 
It’s quiet, with just you and Kei. 
He’s cleaning up, putting away leftovers and wiping down the counter, keeping busy while trying not to be too obvious as he watches you move about the living room. Exploring, tentative, wanting to ask where your room is so you can just hide but not wanting to break the silence. 
His face is burned into your eyelids, that twisted sneer, the surprising vitriol he’d regarded you and Kaoruko. 
Then, the way he’d softened when he’d offered you a bite of his katsu, seeing how you hesitated before accepting, holding your hair out of your face while you leaned in to take it.
It’s a dichotomy that makes you dizzy, frustrated, and leaves you aching. Does he still love you, does he still accept you? 
So immersed, you miss the quiet squeak of the faucet when he turns it off, eyes heavy through glass as he crosses the distance between you in few steps. 
The first brush of his hand against your back has you tense, rigid in anticipation, though you melt when it moves to pull you in by your hip, your head resting against his chest. You let him hug you, even mired in your confusion. He doesn’t deserve it, though, doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. 
He tugs you along to your room, sparsely decorated with some of your belongings already inside, boxes opened but left for you to unpack at your leisure. Clean sheets, the blankets from your room already spread out, and a wrapped box sitting neatly in the center of your bed. 
It’s a small thing that this gesture means, a silent apology in the careful way he handles you, and the first tremors of your unease begin to dissolve. If he’s making the effort, he at least doesn’t hate you.
You swallow around nothing, and his head dips, mouth at your temple. “I’m down the hall, knock if you need anything.” He murmurs, a hand curled possessively at the base of your spine, and hating himself for it, for how he feels when you willingly press in closer, letting him push against you to remove all of the space between your bodies. 
It shouldn’t be so easy, he knows. It shouldn’t be so hard. 
– 
You don’t open the gift, not yet, keeping it pretty on the corner of your desk. 
The first night is easy, you fall asleep nearly the moment you’re left alone. You rest well, considering the past few weeks you’ve barely gotten any rest at all. The mattress is comfortable and all of the packing had left you so physically exhausted that you probably couldn’t have stayed up if you wanted. In the morning, after you’ve been awake for more than ten minutes, you send out a round of texts to your friends and then call Mom. 
Akiteru is in the background, crying dramatically about how he misses you so much already. You smile, listening to them, already missing them more because you’re aware of how far away you are now. 
But it’s because of that that you’re so cheery when you leave your room, walking into the kitchen to find Kei already waiting at the stove. 
“Good morning!” You chirp, coming up from behind and leaning against his back. “What’s for breakfast?” 
“Eggs.” He mumbles, raspy with sleep, turning to peer at you from over his shoulder. “Scrambled or fried?” 
“Scrambled.” You hop up onto the counter, ankles crossed, watching him poke at the skillet with his chopsticks, stirring the egg around as it thickens. He looks a little disheveled, wearing mismatched pajama pants that hang low on his hips, hair fluffed up whatever which way, ruffled from tossing and turning. Kei’s never been a sound sleeper.
As you settle in your spot, you wince at how cold the marble feels against the backs of your bare thighs, the skin of your arms prickling until you rub them with your warmer hands. The movement draws his attention, his eyes finally falling on you, and they narrow sharply as he leans in, inspecting you up close without his glasses to aid him in whatever he’s looking for. 
“Is that mine?” 
You blink, caught a little off guard by the sudden sharpness of his voice, now far more alert than a moment ago. “Huh?”
A hand hesitantly reaches out, tugging at the hem of your nightshirt. His fingers curl, grazing over bare skin, and you shiver. “The shirt.” Lower, now, voice thicker. “Is it mine?” 
You swallow, licking at your dry lips and missing the way his eyes flash up to follow. “Yeah, you left it last year when you visited for Christmas.” A pause, uncertainty plucking at you as you tuck your chin. “Do you want it back? Only kept it cause it was comfy, didn’t know you’d miss it.” 
“No.” It's too quick, he knows, and he can’t stop staring. “You’ve had it for this long, makes more sense for you to just keep it since you like it so much.” 
It should be a taunt, you think, it’s meant to be a taunt, but his voice falls to something reverent instead, unable to muster any hint of mocking. His thin brows are low, pulled up at the middle, lashes kissing his cheeks when his eyes dip below your neck, lower, hidden in the shadows of the kitchen barely illuminated with the faint light coming from behind. You miss the way he looks at you, bare legs on display, his shirt hanging from your body. He wants to push it up, to feel your skin beneath his hands, to kiss you and taste you and– 
Chopsticks clatter to the counter, and he turns away to slide past you, dropping the pinch of fabric like it’s burned him.
“Kei?” You start to get down, braced on your hands as you lift up to drop to the floor and chase him, but his voice is quick to cut you off. 
“Phone call.” He mutters, shoulders hiked up with his head hanging low, disappearing quick into the hallway before you can follow up with any more questions. 
The skillet is still on the stove, hot, he didn’t even turn the burner off or finish cooking the eggs. 
You take over, then, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. He’s gone for a while, whatever call he’s on is quiet, inaudible even when you creep up to his door in an attempt to listen in, to see what has him so on edge. You hear him once, a harsh and heavy exhale, wet like it’s anguished, but silent after. 
With breakfast made, you wait with a plate of cold eggs for him to join you, sitting on the couch and watching a documentary on saltwater fish. 
He takes a shower after his call and then he finally comes back out to eat with you, but instead of explaining he just acts like nothing happened. Now that you clearly have no reason to be worried, you default to being angry that he ditched you. He’s not looking at you, but clearly he can feel your stare, because his own face twists to mirror it. 
“What?” 
You nearly throw your eggs at him. “What the hell was that?” 
“A phone call.” He takes a bite, ignoring you when you smack at his shoulder with your hand, feigning interest in the documentary you’ve put on like actually he gives a shit, something that only sours you further.
“Kei you are such a liar!” You fall back, spooning a cold bite of your breakfast into your mouth and making no attempt to hide your pouting when he turns to face you. 
The tension is back, a little less heavy than before, but still lingering as you eat together in silence. He washes the dishes while you click through his movie catalog, he comes back to sit with you after. Waiting, in his way, because he knows the distance is too much and you’re going to inevitably break when you want something more.  
He doesn’t tease you for it, when you finally cave and reach for him, he simply opens his arms and lets you crawl in, leaning back until you’re warm against his chest. His hands are on your waist, barely applying any pressure but still firm, and yours are in his hair, nails teasing at his scalp until he lets out a quiet groan and rolls his head back in muted encouragement. 
And it’s nice, familiar, he missed your weight on him, the occasional hitch in your breathing because nothing about you is ever steady. You play with his hair and fidget while listening to the droning voices from the TV, you finally begin to relax against him and he’s missed that, can’t fathom the reality of you being too uncomfortable to be around him.
You start to doze off, he can hear it in the way your breath slows, drags, rougher than when you’re awake and alert. It puffs out against his neck, warms his pulse, makes him want to crane his head closer until your lips are against his skin. 
Seventy-five percent. 
Your phone rings, shatters the quiet and jolts you awake. You’re whining, smacking at the coffee table until your fingers catch the end of your case, and you tuck it between his chest and your cheek so you don’t have to hold it while you talk.
“Hello?” 
Tentatively, Kaoruko’s voice bleeds through. “Hi, is this a bad time?” 
You perk up, voice pitched a little higher. “Hey! Not at all, ‘m just hangin’ out with Kei watchin’ TV.” 
Kei tilts his head down, a question, and you falter before answering, his face in mind. 
You’re not going to hide, though, so you steel yourself. “It’s my girlfriend, Kaoruko.” Your voice is traitorously soft, a fragile thing, the walls of your defenses so thin that he can see through them like glass. You’re scared, he realizes, and it melts the jagged razor’s edge of his jealousy. 
“Do you want me to leave so you can talk?” 
Your surprise is blatant, hope bleeding through and twisting a knife between his ribs, the thought that he had let his own feelings hurt you so much that you had been afraid of how he would react. He hates that.
“Nah, s’ok. I’m comfy.” You cuddle back in, talking soft into the phone while he settles beneath you. He strokes your back, fingers steady despite how badly he wants to shake. It hurts, in an unfathomable sense, how he listens to your voice so sweet as you coo into the receiver, teasing and playful in a way you aren’t with him. With him, you bicker, snapping back just as sharp, prickled in a way so unlike the way you are now. Silken, affectionate, like all of you is soft with her. 
His eyes burn. 
In some ways, it’s easy to settle in. Even with practice and summer assignments, Kei sets time aside for you. He still calls home, though now you join him for those calls instead of waiting on the other end with mom. You cook more when he doesn’t have the patience for it, and soon begin to take over making dinner overall until your own college classes start. It’s not so different from when you were both in Miyagi, though he’s cleaner now than he used to be. 
In other ways, it’s harder. 
The first time you walk into the kitchen too early in the morning and find him without a shirt, you’re almost appalled at how hot your face feels. His back is to you, ducked low while peering into the fridge, and you watch in something akin to muted horror at the way you can actually see him. Muscle definition that had never been there before, or you had never cared to pay attention to. Hair tousled, messy from sleep as he rakes a hand through it, making it worse. Flush at the shoulders with summer heat, freckles speckled on his skin. 
The fridge clicks shut, and you snap out of it before he turns around, fleeing into the bathroom to collect yourself. 
Your own reflection horrifies you. Eyes a little glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted and plush from being pressed too hard together. Palm to your chest, you feel the way your heart thuds against your ribs, too quick, fluttery like a hummingbird. 
It’s natural, you’re quick to tell yourself. 
It’s not. 
When Kauruko comes to visit for the first time, Kei stays out late. 
He’s not good with people, so you aren’t surprised, and you’re a little relieved you won’t have to mediate the tension between them. He can be polite, but cold and cool, and your Kaoruko is very sensitive to people like that, he would scare her off immediately. 
She’s shy, a little, but warms up the longer you curl up together on the couch, her head on your chest, your fingers in her hair. She nuzzles into you, breathes you in, soothed by the steady hum of your heart. No longer weighed down by the pressure of school, she’s more relaxed, the bags beneath her eyes almost faded completely. 
She plays with the hem of your shirt, another one of Kei’s that you’d stolen from his clean laundry before he got around to pulling it from the dryer. Slender fingers, silken, stroke the sensitive skin of your stomach, her lips quirking into a smile when you giggle softly and bat at her hands half-heartedly. 
She kisses you, then. Careful, questioning, melting when you press in to return it. Warm, velvet against your mouth, she cups you by the back of your head and deepens it, you let her guide you, a push and pull as she rolls her hips into you, your thighs parting a little to make room for her. 
When she pulls away with a quiet little gasp, you hum and brush the hair from her face, watching her cheeks flush with color. “I’m sorry.” She murmurs, a bit breathless. “I’m not–I don’t know if I–” 
You coo, squeezing her tight and kissing the furrow in her brow. “It’s okay.” You promise, murmuring against her skin. “I’m fine with just this.” 
She settles, quiet apologies that you stifle with teasing pinches and raspberries, until she’s laughing and pushing against you in weak attempts to break out of your embrace, but you hold on tight and wrap your legs around her as well. 
Kaoruko falls asleep like that, with you still wide awake and gently rubbing her back. The front door creaks open, the shuffle of Kei walking in drawing your attention. He comes around the arm of the couch slowly, and in the light of the TV just before he realizes you’re awake, you watch his face crumple with pain. 
Pain, not anger. Not disgust. 
You watch, amazed, as he jerks away, hands curled tight into fists before falling slack when he notices your open eyes. He stares, unmoving, and Kaoruko shifts atop you with a muffled murmur. 
He tries for normal, for casual, expression smooth and disinterested as though you hadn’t just watched him nearly begin to cry at the sight of you cuddled up with someone else. You don’t stop him when he goes to his room, expecting his door to slam but only hearing a quiet click. 
Something in you cracks. 
– 
It takes two weeks after Kaoruko has gone home for you to break up. 
And it’s so easy that you think you should feel guilty, but you don’t. On her end, the kiss helped her realize that she’s not very interested in women, she just likes you. She isn’t upset when you ask about ending the relationship, only insistent that you stay friends even if it’s a little awkward for a while. 
But it’s not awkward at all, it’s easy to fall into old habits. You don’t quite lose the pet names or the affection, but it’s clearer now that you never felt anything romantic for her to begin with. You feel safe with her, you trust her, so a relationship just seemed to make sense.
But you can’t get Kei’s face out of your mind, and there’s a subtle shift to the lens in which you view his actions now. You can’t stay in a relationship, not like this, not with the twist and the dark direction your thoughts are turning. She deserves far better than the fucked up individual you’re about to become.
And, as you drop your phone after ending the call, as you get up and glide down the hall to knock at Kei’s door, your heart is in your throat but you’re excited, you can’t help thinking that never once did someone else make your body thrum with anticipation like this, make you eager like this.  
“Come in.” Soft, he looks up at you and lowers his headphones when you open his door, and something in your face must alarm him because his chair rolls back sharply and he turns towards you with a pinch of concern. “Are you okay?” 
“I just broke up with Kaoruko.” 
His eyes go wide, lips parting around a gasp that would be inaudible if you weren’t watching him so closely for a reaction. His hands twitch, fingers curling around the arms of his chair until the knuckles bleed white.
“And?” He asks, testing, gauging where you’re at. You’ve never gone through a breakup before, he doesn’t know what to expect, your face gives nothing away that he can read. 
He’s frozen when you move closer, legs spreading as you slide into his lap. A hard, gulping swallow, honey eyes like glass as his head falls back with you hovering over him and your hands braced against his chest, his heart rabbiting beneath your fingers.
Quietly, you tell him– “I’m sad. Heartbroken, actually.” 
Clearly, you’re not. 
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and his voice is hoarse when he replies. “What do you want me to do about it?”
You lower yourself to him, arms draped over his shoulders, your face at his neck so you can hear the little groan he chokes down when you shift around to get comfortable, his hands flying to your hips as if to push you away, or bring you closer. 
“Jus’ want you to hold me.” You murmur, nosing against his collar, feeling the unsteady pounding of his heart, how your own races to match it. 
So he does. He works with one arm rubbing at your back, chin resting on your shoulder so he can still see his screen. He doesn’t complain when you play with his hair, or when you take his phone so you have something to mess with while you stay draped over his lap. 
Just lounging around, not dissimilar to how you spend time with anyone else. 
But it feels different, relaxed and comfortable, hyperaware and sensitive, a dichotomy that Kei makes easy. 
Change doesn’t happen as quickly as you would think, after that. Classes are starting so rather than focusing on each other, your attention is diverted towards textbooks and copying notes. 
Still, you grow closer than before amidst it all. Rather than simply leaning against each other while you study, he’ll let you into his lap, arms overlapping while you read from separate books. Sometimes his touch lingers, rough fingers that slip beneath the hem of your shorts or long shirts, stroking soft skin and making you tingle everywhere he goes. You feel the phantom echo of his touch long after it’s gone, almost to the point that you can imagine what it would feel like if those fingers slipped higher, drifting between your thighs until they reached the apex. 
It’s those thoughts that keep you up. Shame and desire, guilt and anticipation, waiting for something but unsure of if you’re willing to take the final plunge. 
It’s clear how he feels, you think. Uncertain of if your own feelings are the same, if you’re even right to begin with, and the mess of it all keeps you walking a very fine line, testing the waters to be sure before you do something that can’t be taken back. 
So you watch him, watch how he is around you, thinking of if Akiteru was in his place and finding that your heart most definitely does not respond the same. 
How when you crawl on top of him, watching the hard bob of his throat as he waits for you to settle, it’s always as though bracing himself for incoming pain. He should be used to your cuddling by now, but he’s so tense at the start, always has to be soothed slowly into relaxing beneath you.
How he’s worse towards you on campus, now. At Karasuno he was vaguely rude in the beginning, but beyond that he treated you gently, not openly affectionate but still with a sort of warmth. 
Here, he’s colder. Distant. If he sees you between classes, you get maybe a tip of the head in acknowledgement, or he’ll text you during class and tell you that your makeup is smudged or something else meant to irk rather than upset. 
Definitely different, but you take it slow, mingling with your classmates to keep you from getting too in your own head about it all, knowing you’ll make yourself sick with stress if you focus on Kei’s treatment of you too much. 
There are no familiar faces here, though. No friends from a previous school to draw you into their circle, no one else that you know aside from Tadashi, who you see even less than Kei. 
And, worse, you feel drastically different this time around when people realize who your older brother is, and history repeats. 
People pulling you aside, other volleyball team members that are wondering why he left, some being more direct and asking you about his relationship status, for his number, some discreet in the way they try to approach you casually first, but you’ve learned from high school and ignore them outright. 
You’re a little cranky, most of the time, Kei notices but doesn’t push since he isn’t the problem, taking it in stride when you snap or get a little too much attitude. 
He still teases you, though, even with that new glint in his eyes as he pokes and prods at your stomach to make you laugh, holding you down when you squirm beneath him and try to get away. It’s different, charged, but neither of you cross the line. 
Even though you can see it clearly now, how badly he wants to. His hands will drift over your bare skin when he draws away, fingertips that twitch with the urge to sink in, to drag you close, you can feel the way his hips will stutter when you lock your legs around him to flip the position, still continuing the game but you know he’s thinking of something else entirely.
Thirty percent. 
“You’re Tsukishima’s baby sister, right?” 
The ‘baby’ grates at you, your jaw gritted before you can even turn around. “Yup, that’s me.” You drawl, adjusting the strap of your bag and leaning your weight to one side. “Need something?” 
She smiles, a demure little thing, you’re reminded of dark hair and blushing cheeks, the silly thought of being asked to give away your brother’s number without his consent. This one doesn’t ask for that, though. 
“There’s a party tomorrow at my place. I was hoping he’d come, but he never says yes when I ask.” She pouts, a little, lips a pretty shade of coral. “Would you ask for me? You can come if you want, just don’t drink the punch.” She winks at you, bumps you with her shoulder, and your annoyance lessens because at least she’s including you in the equation somehow. 
“Social activities are uh…not really his thing, if you couldn’t tell.” You muse, pleased when she bursts out with a laugh that cracks near the end, her eyes gleaming when you continue. “ –but, I’ll see what I can do. I’m good at getting my way, being the baby sister and all.” 
Her face brightens, and she looks at you with different eyes, appraising, before dipping her head. “I’m Hoshino. Even if he doesn’t come, I hope I’ll see you there?” It’s open-ended, hopeful, and you try not to look too happy when she scribbles her number on the inside of your wrist.
Kei notices when you come home in a good mood, leaning with his elbow on the kitchen counter and looking up as you walk in. 
You’re smiling, typing on your phone while looking between the screen and your wrist. You haven’t greeted him yet, haven’t even noticed he’s there, and his brow tilts in annoyance. 
“You’re going to trip.” He lies, watching as you falter mid-step and make yourself stumble over nothing in anticipation of an obstacle that isn’t there. 
“Kei!” You scowl, tossing your bag onto the couch and moving into the kitchen with him. “Don’t be a dick.” 
He turns around, following you as you stop at the fridge and pull it open, eyes a little narrowed. “What has you in such a good mood?” It’s sarcastic, but he hopes you give a serious answer anyway, curious about what had you grinning so much when for weeks you’ve been sullen and stormy. 
You perk up, water bottle in hand as you step close and lean into him, smiling despite the wary look he now wears. “We were invited to a party!” 
He rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses up and rubbing at the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. “Who was it? Koganegawa? Kyoutani hates parties, it wouldn’t be him. Akiro?” 
You shake your head, cracking open the lid on your water and taking a sip. “A girl named Hoshino.” 
His eyes widen briefly, then his brow furrows, lips pressed thin and twitching downwards. “I don’t want to go.” 
“Okay.” 
Stunned, he blinks, looking genuinely startled even though you’ve been turning down party invites on his behalf for years. You shrug, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder, warmed when his arm comes around you tentatively. “You hate parties, but she said I could go too even if you don’t, so I’m not gonna force you just so I can make friends.” 
He softens, melting with a murmur as he tips your chin up and gives you a muted look of guilt. “You’re lonely.” 
Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Just a little, I still talk to my friends back home, but you forget that I’m not as introverted as you are. I like people.” 
He nods, tracing the curve of your jaw with his knuckles. “Yeah.” He murmurs, nodding slowly. “I’ll go, and whenever you want to leave you can just use me as an excuse.” 
You lean into his hand, smiling with soft eyes up at him, oblivious to the way it makes his heart pick up. “Wouldn’t need it as an excuse.” You tease, looping your arms around his middle and locking your fingers together. “Five minutes in and you’ll be the one begging me to come home.” 
His brow climbs high, a disbelieving scoff puffing some of the hair out of your face. “I’m not begging for anything, if I want to leave I’ll just leave. You can find your own way home by now, I’m sure.” 
You can’t help smiling, though it's more because you can feel him trying to lean away from you, to avoid the press of your hips against his as you lean into his space. Sly, you press in closer to hear the way his breath hitches, feeling his hands twitch to grab and push you away, but he doesn’t. 
“Kei,” You drawl, low as you drag your locked hands up his back, smoothing your palms higher until the material of his shirt goes with them, feeling the way he shivers at your touch. “Would you really just abandon me at some stranger’s party?” His eyes roll, but you think it might not be so much because of your dramatics, but rather the way you carefully slot the twist of your hips between his thighs, bracketing them around you as you step in close. Voice a low, teasing whisper, you coo– “Now, that doesn’t sound like something a good big brother would do, does it?”
You feel him, pulsing against your thigh, and he’s so carefully still despite the way he clearly wants to shove you back. Hoping you won’t notice, maybe, or hoping you’ll at least pretend. You smile up at him, cloyingly sweet and he glares, but it’s such a feeble expression when you can tell he’s focusing so much more on not grinding against you. 
He’s completely silent when you step away, red in the face, trying so hard to look angry but the expression is wrong, far more riddled with desire than you’re sure he intends it to be. Like he wants to bend you over the counter, to fuck the snark out of you, but he turns his back to you the moment you’re out of his space instead. 
On your way out of the kitchen, however, as you turn to glance at him from over your shoulder, butterflies erupt in your stomach when you see him palming between his legs, brow pinched tight in an expression almost like pain, like yearning. 
8%
– 
You wake up the next morning to an email telling you that your early class is canceled, so you have an unexpected extra few hours to get ready for the party. 
There are a few things you need to throw in the washer first, so you get out of bed to reluctantly start laundry. You don’t have enough for a full load, so you poke your head into Kei’s room to ask if he has any clothes that need to be washed, but the question dies on your tongue when you see that he’s still in bed.
He’s on his side, facing the wall with his curtains drawn shut to block out the sunlight, blanket falling off his body and pooling at the floor. Quietly, you slip inside and tuck him back in, smoothing your hands down his shoulder and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek while you draw the blanket back over him. He murmurs softly and chases you as you withdraw, still deep in whatever stage of sleep he’s in, and you have to hold back the urge to coo at him for sounding so sweet. 
You’d rather not go through his things and risk disturbing him, so you drag your basket into the laundry room to strip off what you wore to bed and throw it carelessly on top. It won’t hurt to wait awhile for him to wake up first before asking if he has anything he needs cleaned.   
Taking advantage of your newly obtained freetime, you laze around in your room on your phone. Catching up, mostly, taunting your friends that are currently stuck in class by sending them pictures of you snuggled up in bed, exaggerating your comfiness until they tell you, not so politely, to fuck off. 
It only takes an hour or so before Kei is up, floorboards creaking quietly while he wanders through the hall. 
A minute after that, you get a text from him. 
Good luck in class today
Oh, he doesn’t know you’re home. 
An evil, evil idea comes to mind, pettiness surging in your chest as you recall all the failed scare attempts from your childhood, all the times he turned it around on you and succeeded. You have a rare opportunity. Kei is infallible in that way, you can never catch him off guard because he has your schedule memorized, and when he knows you’re at home he’s too in tune with you to ever not know when you’re just around the corner. 
It makes you giddy with anticipation, with intent. You want to make him scream, just once, just once you want to scare the hell out of him. 
You creep slowly up to your door, lifting the handle before pulling it open, knowing it will creak otherwise. 
The door to the laundry room is open, you can hear him moving around inside, uncapping detergent in a bottle that squeaks as it opens. You almost feel guilty for plotting to scare him when he might be doing your clothes, but you don’t let it deter you as you make your way down the hall. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees, bare skin sticking to polished wooden floorboards, you’re careful not to shuffle so the squeak doesn’t give you away. 
You peek around the doorway, low, finding him with his back to you and an arm outstretched with– 
Your panties are stretched between his fingers, twisting, turning them, and you could almost cry when you see the crotch is dark, damp with the two orgasms you’d wrung from yourself too late last night, still shiny with your slick from the one early this morning. 
Your muscles tense, already readying to lurch forward so you can snatch them from him and then cry in your room until you die of embarrassment, but then he moves. 
Leaning against the washer, you can see the anguish written all over his face, as his hands dip below his waist. You see him clearer now, a heavy outline through the thick material of his sweatpants, and as his fingers hook in the waistband to pull them low, the breath catches in your throat when his cock kicks as it's freed, bobbing heavy in the air and swollen. It’s already throbbing when he wraps your panties around it, the head lined up against the arousal you’d left behind. He chokes out a groan that sounds like an apology, and the first pump of his hand makes his knees buckle. 
“Fuck–” He gasps, free hand hurrying to clap over his mouth, then it rises to rip his glasses off and put them to the side. 
He leans his weight fully against the washer, head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks the tight clench of his fist, the muscles in his thighs tensing with every thrust, sweat beading at his temples. He works his wrist in little half circles, squeezing tighter near the tip and letting out a moan that makes you tremble. Neck bared and flushed red, you can see him struggling to swallow his voice, choking on each pathetic attempt at cutting off a needy whine of regret, like he wants to stop so bad but it feels so good and he’s so sorry–
You watch, horrified, enthralled, as he works himself up to the brink, the drip of pre heavy from the tip of his cock, soaked into the blue cloth wrapped so tightly around it. He shudders hard, voice pitching, peaking, the pace of his hips jerking to an abrupt stop when he nearly falls over the edge.
He throbs so hard that you can see it, see the way it pulses against the impossibly tight grip he has on it, fingers curled at the base to stop himself from spilling. 
Kei whimpers, such a soft, sweet sound, and can bear to wait only a moment before he starts again. His chin tucks down to his chest, lips twisted and trembling, brow pinched with his skin flushed like a peach. He looks so guilty, so aroused that it hurts him. Teeth pull on his lips until they bleed, and his back arches, head falling back once more as his hips buck with a stuttered cry catching in his throat. 
Again, he holds it, panting so hard that you’re worried he’ll start to hyperventilate. 
“God…” He breathes, chokes. “I’m going to hell.” 
Mesmerized by him, the ripple of muscle as he curls in on himself, a rough inhale and hair falling in his screwed-shut eyes, so messy, so desperate. He fists his cock with a sudden sense of urgency, mouth dropped open in a silent cry when his whole body shakes, his free arm braced against the washing machine so he doesn’t fall. 
“I can’t.” He groans, hips twitching, trying to slow but his hand chases it instinctively, warring with himself. When he cums, your name is on his lips, soft, a shameful secret as he paints your panties white. He strokes himself through it, until he’s whining from oversensitivity but even then he doesn’t stop. 
You watch in a strange mix of emotions as he brings himself to the edge again, nearly sobbing with it, and as he pulls the soaked fabric away thick strands of cum stretch from the tip of his cock, glossy and heavy as it drips, and he lets out a strangled noise at the sight.
He stands there for a while, just staring, watching the way it sticks to him, the smear of shimmery arousal that must be yours leftover on his skin. Before he can recover, you’re quick and careful on the trek back to your room, trying so very hard not to combust with everything you just saw. 
It replays on loop, over and over, burned into your eyelids, like a sickness. 
You make yourself cum with his face in your mind twice, three times before it feels like you can breathe again, twitching, sweaty, shame hot in your cheeks. It’s new, and it’s not. Having it confirmed is dizzying, to see it so intimately, to see your infallible big brother weak in the knees because of you. 
After sitting with this revelation for over an hour, you take a shower. Cold water beats down on you, numbing you, but you still feel too hot inside, burning up with fever. 
You have no idea how you’re going to get through an entire party, not after this. 
When you come out of the shower, hair dripping, wrapped in a towel, you freeze when you find Kei waiting in your room. 
He’s holding your laundry, and at the sight of you the basket falls, clothes spilling onto your floor, the two of you too shocked to pay it any mind. 
“I didn’t hear you come home.” 
You swallow, tightening your grip on the folds of your towel, watching his eyes dip and then rise just as quickly. “Class ended early.” You lie, raspy. “Sorry, should have called but I wanted to start getting ready for tonight.” 
“Tonight.” He repeats, a little dumbly. “Tonight?” 
“The party?” You step closer, watching as he falters and then steadies, like he’s holding his ground for your approach, though his shoulders loosen when you move past him to your dresser instead. 
Defensive, like he’s scared of you. Does he know that you know?
“Right. The party.” He tries not to look at you while you lean over to sort through your drawers, but he stares, he can’t help it anymore, oblivious to the way you watch him from the mirror resting against your wall. 
It’s like after crossing that single line, he’s lost control of himself. Frantic, in a way, as he tries to find solid ground and only continues to scramble. He doesn’t know how to act, how to look. 
And, oh you have a mean streak just as big as his. 
You smile at him, sweet, and step into his space with the towel looser in your hands. “You don’t have to come, Kei.” You murmur, reaching to ghost your fingertips along his jaw. 
Kei is good at spotting lies, but all he sees right now is the water on your skin, the way your flimsy cover dips and he can almost see, like you’re taunting him. How is he meant to spot any signs of deception when you’re so pretty like this, when you sound so nice, and how the sugar of your affection sweetens him, leaves him candied. 
And it’s so hard when you’re so close, when he knows you’re a single width of cloth away from being naked in front of him, still dripping wet and flush from the cold-turned-hot shower that’s left you softened with steam. 
0%
For the first time in his life, Tsukishima Kei is incapable of looking at you like you’re his little sister at all.
“I want to.” He lies, because you’re so sweet and he can still smell the body wash–his– on your skin, because he’s pretty sure he’d do anything if you asked him to with the euphoria and guilt of his earlier mistake still in his system. He can’t tell you no like this, because he wants you so bad, because he feels like he should be dead for it. 
Your smile slips, teasing, a wry upturn to the corners. “No you don’t.” The towel falls, just a little, as you shift closer, as he backs up to make space for you until his legs hit your bed frame. “It’s okay, though. I told you already, I don't mind going by myself.” 
There is no way he is letting you go alone, not when he’s like this, not when he needs to know there won’t be other people putting hands on you. You know that, can see it with the way his brows draw together, frustrated at your suggestion, frustrated at himself for knowing why he doesn’t want it. 
“It’s not safe.” He argues, a truth but for selfish reasons. “You’ve never been to a college party before, and the last time you even drank was your graduation. Which you barely remember.” 
Low blow. 
Your pretty expression morphs into a scowl, pushing at his chest in an attempt to shove him back with the expectation that he’ll resist. He goes, but he drags you with him by your arm, pulling you into his lap as he does.
It’s clear too late when he realizes what he’s done, your legs split wide around his thighs, the towel parted up to your stomach, leaving you completely bare and drenched and dripping water onto his clothes. 
“Oh god.” He breathes, looking up into your face that is twisted with anger, and feeling like he’s more hard than he’s ever been with you pressing down on him and basically naked. 
Kei is not religious, but he prays to every god and ideal he can think of that you do not move any more to the left. 
“That was so unnecessary!” You hiss, pride wounded. “It was one time, and I don’t even know what my limit is so how am I supposed to know how much I can drink? You said we wouldn’t talk about it anymore!” You’re ranting, disregarding his distress, the way his eyes roll back when you push forward and his hips jut up in little aborted rocking motions. 
But it clicks when he shoves you off, when he’s snapping at you to ‘just hurry up and get dressed!’ as he flees your room, red creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears.  
You wear a cheshire’s smile for the rest of the time spent getting ready. 
– 
It’s your first time wearing a dress to a party. 
You prefer comfier clothes, slacks and button-downs are nice and more convenient to wear than a dress with a hem you have to fidget with. 
But you still have them. Short and slinky, long and sexy, hung up in your closet simply because you’d gone shopping with your friends and had been coaxed into buying things that would make you feel good to wear if you ever had a chance to wear them. 
And now you do, so you take advantage and peruse your little collection of nice dresses, wondering what would best suit a casual college party. Short and slinky seems more the play, something long better saved for a nice night out, not a party with solo cups and mixed alcohol. 
Black and ruffled, lace accents with straps that hang loose off of your shoulders, a pretty blue necklace that sparkles at the hollow of your throat. Clingy, shaped to your body but not skin-tight, not suffocating, as comfortable as can be while looking the way you do. Makeup is light, relying on the alcohol for a flush later as opposed to blushing your cheeks now. 
You have fun with it, legs smooth and silken, scrubbed with sugar in the shower. Lotion, buttery and very lightly scented. Phone in hand, heels in the other, you pad down the hallway and knock with your phone on Kei’s door. “Almost ready!" 
You hear the wheels of his chair as he pushes back from his desk, the door opening just as you’ve entered the living room to put your shoes on. 
He chokes, behind you, and you turn to him with a demure smile, a little coy. “Want me to send you the address, or do you already know where she lives?” 
Lips parted, he sucks in a low breath, the sound hissing between his teeth. His eyes track you, head to toe, lingering on the long stretch of bare skin that you usually do not display. Ignoring your question, he scowls. “You look like you’re trying to get laid.” 
He expects you to laugh, to cackle and wave him off like you always have any other time he’s accused you of trying to hook up. You thought it was teasing, back then, you can hear the jealousy for what it is now. 
You smile, lower your lashes, pluck at the material of your dress and roll it between your fingers, lifting the skirt just a bit higher in the process. “Maybe.” 
His face falls, slack with shock, before it tightens into something nervous just as you turn your back to put on your heels. 
“Absolutely not.” 
A smirk, fingers fastening the clasp. “I’m a grown woman, Kei.” You muse, tightening the strap a little to make sure it’s secure. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring anyone back here without permission, I’m nicer than that.” 
“You–” He drags a hand down over his face, taking his glasses with it before shooting you another glare, sharper. “You can’t, you don’t know anyone there.” He argues, stepping into your space, frantic now. His eyes are a little wild, breaths coming quick, and he’s crowding against you without even realizing it. You’re backed against the arm of the couch, nearly sitting on it as he presses in. Your legs part around him, and he pushes closer, jaw grit. 
“I don’t need to.” You shrug with one arm, deceptively disinterested as he hisses and pushes you down by the waist when you try to move, pinning you as he struggles with what he wants to say, the reply that burns at the tip of his tongue but refuses to come out. 
Because it’s wrong, and he knows it. 
“Mom told me to keep an eye out for you.” It’s such a weak argument, relying on mom when the nature of his intentions is so much more twisted. Still, he’ll use whatever he can, anything to stop the thoughts of you twisted around with another body, someone holding you, touching you, tasting you– 
“Mom isn’t here.” 
His pupils dilate, lips parting, and this time he goes when you push him back. Staring at you with wicked eyes, he doesn’t fight it when you move away from him to put on your second shoe, following like a ghost as you lead him out of the apartment. 
A little too strong, maybe, but his feelings for you are written all over his face, his mask ripped clean off. There’s no doubting it, now, so you can finally play a little. 
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makingmeagirlwithluv · 8 months
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LOST IN THE LIGHTS CHAPTER 2
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Pairing: OT7 x Female Reader
Word Count: 1 K
Status: Ongoing
Summary: Idol!BTS falls for spoiled brat reader who’s just looking for some fun! Can all 7 of them win her heart and make her theres and theres alone?
Genre:  Idol! BTS social media/sociallite reader. Modern day. No covid
Story warnings: Light smut, swearing, BTS are men and sometimes men are dumb as hell. That B!tch reader. Bi-sexual reader Mild angst. Swearing, lots of casual sex. possesive (?) bts. Unlikely to be member on member action but never say never. 18 PLUS MINORS DNI
Chapter 1
It was Seokjin who brought it up. All the boys were gathered around the dining table for family dinner. He was barely paying attention to the various conversations going on around him as he was scrolling through your Insta. 
It was maybe the third time he had done a deep dive on the page unable to take his eyes off of you in various locations.
“Mind your business!” Seokjin blushed as Namjoon reached over and grabbed his phone, before he could recover it Namjoon was sighing at the screen, before flipping the phone to show the rest of the men. A collective groan swept over the group.
There were photos of everything really, you looking stunning in front of the pyramids, a half-eaten croissant with a woman’s hand reaching towards it, five different photos of a cat walking down the street. He liked looking at your world when you weren’t around.
“Jin Hyung!” Jung Kook called from two chairs away snapping Seokjin out of his scrolling. Jung Kook chuckled “What are you looking at?” 
“It’s really not fair how sexy she is” Jimin sighs running his hand over his face. Taehyung nods adjusting in his seat to pull his phone out.
“Look at what she sent me” He smiles showing the boys the cute selfie you sent him while you were lying by the pool. 
Your skin is glistening and you still have that all-knowing sexy glint in your eye even through the photograph. Taehyung had texted you earlier asking to come over and see you and when you politely declined he figured he’d tease you and ask for a selfie instead. His heart sped up a little when you actually did what he asked. You were so beautiful and he had to share how gorgeous you were with the group. He smiled as they all stared at his phone cooing over you before putting his phone away. 
“Asked her what Hyung?” Jung Kook spoke up quirking an eyebrow at him as he shoved more noodles in his mouth. Hoseok laughed a little feeling embarrassed as all the guys stared at him. He was relieved when Yoongi patted him on the shoulder speaking up. 
“So have you guys like…asked her?” Hoseok cleared his throat looking around. They all turned towards him waiting for him to finish his sentence.
Taehyung earnestly breaks the silence “I asked her to move in once” And for a split second no one reacts before everyone bursts out laughing. 
“Don’t play dumb guys.” Yoongi scoffed. “Do you guys ever ask her to get more serious?” A quiet falls over the table as the question hangs in the air.
“Tae what the fuck.” Namjoon cried. 
“Ours.” Hoseok corrected raising an eyebrow at his friend. And that seemed to do it. Silently they were all in agreement, you were going to be theirs one way or another. 
“We’ve only known her like two months!” Jimin breathed out through giggles.
“Okay but I would have too hyung” Jung Kook admits smiling at his friend. He wasn’t afraid to admit he wouldn’t mind seeing you all the time.
“Ahh, I can’t live like this” Seokjin sighed. “I wouldn’t ask her to move in so soon, but I’d like her to be mine” He nods his voice gaining a serious tone. The tension slowly racks up in the room at Seokjin asserting a form of ownership over you. 
Slowly the idea formed between them on how to convince you. First things first, invite you over for a movie night with all seven of them.
And so there you were at their house flouncing around like you owned the place bouncing from member to member flirting and having a ball. 
“I already said no” You laughed coming back to the living room with a fresh bowl of popcorn where they were all spread out waiting for you.
“Ughk stop saying that” Jung Kook whined pulling you onto his lap.
“What’s the issue then?” You asked while picking up the remote from the coffee table and scrolling through the selections before landing on Legally Blonde. 
“What it’s the truth! You don’t like the truth?” You smirked at him while Namjoon reached over for the popcorn popping a kernel in your mouth before sneaking a kiss on your lips and settling back into the sofa.
“I don’t think the truth is the issue baby” Jimin chimed in scooting closer to you and Jung Kook.
“The issue is that you’ve never had boyfriends like us” Taehyung looked up at you from the ground flashing a charming smile. You rolled your eyes and chuckled. 
“I don’t know about that, I mean aren’t all men essentially the same?”
“Bull shit” Yooongi breathed. He had been relatively quiet watching you own the room like you always do. Don’t get him wrong he wanted you as badly as the others and he let you see that but when it came to their mass fawning session he liked to take a more low-key approach.
“Oh yeah?” You looked him in the eye as the room slowly quieted. The heat between y’all building.
“Let us prove it” He shrugged.
“Prove it?”
“Correct”
“Okay?” You laughed looking around the room as their eyes roamed over you. “And how do you all expect to do that and don’t say-”
“It’s not what you think” Jin rolled his eyes, cutting you off. He got up from the opposite end of the couch shuffling over to you before pushing Jimin aside to sit by you. He rested his hand on your inner thigh before nuzzling your ear. You squirmed enjoying his touch and the attention of the others watching you two.
“Seven dates” he whispered in your ear. “One-on-one with all of us. Let us show you how different we all can be” he teased while inching his way up your thigh and planting a kiss beneath your ear lobe. “Let us show you how good we all can be”  
“Fine.”
And oh my god, he knew all the right spots, between the seven of them they all did. Your head was swimming and you were enjoying his hand drawing tortuously small circles on your inner thigh. You were also well aware of all seven of their eyes drinking you in as you slowly melted in to Jin’s touch
“Don’t make me beg, love” Jin squeezed your thigh snapping you back to reality. And you knew you’d regret it but you said it still.
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murdocking · 6 months
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„ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ”
- a chishiya series. intro ch2
masterlist
warnings + notes: since theres a few canonically known games within the manga that were not depicted in the adaptation, i will have to concoct my own version of these for the purpose of being entertaining before having that slow burn begin when chishiya and the reader properly meet within the games😈😈fun fact that i adore escape rooms so this show and the idea of me coming up with my own versions is making me giddy
this shit is so long guys sorry its truly just a filler i promise
ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ:
- TWO OF DIAMONDS
in your mind, you thought you looked bad. the blazer you had worn just hours ago to your first big-girl interview was thrown somewhere on the train tracks in shibuya station. your face was covered in sweat, and patchy makeup. your sandals were feeling the wear and tear of just simply walking- and your button up shirt was stained with some dirt and sweat as well. despite that, laying eyes on the man in the corner made you believe you were a model in comparison.
his shorts seemed to just be burnt pants whose threads gripped onto the pieces of fabric for life, and his blue shirt was dark brown on the right side of his body- where you seem to notice his patched up arm. you can only assume that the brown spots scattered amongst his attire was his own dried blood, and he scratched at the other drying cuts littered on the arm with urgency. his face was stiff, covered in thick mud and grime, and his eyes were dark with fixation.
he was not the person you were interested in approaching.
to the left of you was a woman, her short hair seemed unintentional- matted and torn as though a child had taken scissors to it then rolled it in the one-armed man’s blood. besides this, she was focused, staring at the table in the center of the entranceway. you even notice her eye twitching slightly, and how her shorts seemed too loose for her frame and her shirt too big.
you follow her stare at the table, and notice what it is that has grabbed her attention so well.
walking over, its an array of phones- and dark bracelets, with the little white sign saying “take one”.
you decide not to test this gathering, and grab a phone and put on the thick metal band that snaps to your wrist snugly. you start flipping the phone around searching for an on switch- just for it to do it on its own. it brightens up and says the word SCANNING before saying WELCOME.
you turn to the woman, and inquire, “what is this supposed to be?” and you think she has truly lost it when she meets your eyes.
she stutters throughout, but chuckles maniacally regardless. “have you never been in a game before?” and your shaking head and puzzled face gives her the sign to continue. she motions for you to get closer and she grips onto your shoulders tightly, leaning towards your face.
“this is your childhood fears come true! here… death chases you like a goblin… and he sends his demons to torment you in these games… don’t you know?” she stares at you crazily and you immediately regret not entertaining the idea of asking the man for information instead. “we play… naïvely to live.. see look.” she clicks on her own phone- pressing the words VISA and the app presents 6 hollowed out club symbols.
“we play.. to live and stay here longer… or else…” she points up at your forehead and then quickly brings her hand down pointed to the floor with a ‘WOOSH’ sound. “death takes you himself.”
she didn’t exactly reassure you, but as another person joins, you politely thank her and decide to speak to someone more sane.
a girl, seemingly about your own age, speaks to you. “shes right.. is this your first game?” her brown lashes flutter when the doors to the entrance way suddenly shut- but she never even flinches from the action. “every game is different, and it tests different parts within you. i suggest if you’re not the athletic type,” she scans you briefly, and you feel a bit small because of the action, “be careful of spade games. those test your physical endurance the most. diamonds need quick wits, and clubs require effort from a team. but hearts games.. those will leave you to yourself every time… it will cut you raw inside.”
you look at her, and you see she is quite serious. “thank you.”
GAME REGISTRATION CLOSED!
DIFFICULTY: TWO OF DIAMONDS
RULES: SURGICALLY REMOVE EACH ‘TUMOR’ FROM THE BODY INSIDE OF YOUR DESIGNATED ROOM LABELED ON YOUR DEVICE. EACH ‘TUMOR’ REMOVED WILL GRANT MORE TIME, BUT WILL DEPRIVE YOUR FELLOW PLAYERS OF TIME, AND LIGHT IN THEIR ROOMS. REMOVAL OF ANYTHING ELSE WILL RESULT IN INDIVIDUAL PUNISHMENT. THE FIRST TO REMOVE ALL ‘TUMORS’ WILL HAVE A GAME CLEARED.
surgical removal..? though you encouraged the idea of medical school, blood wasn’t really your thing- neither was biology. you look around, theres only four of you, and you’re starting to become painfully aware of the band on your wrist, is it getting tighter or is that your mind?
the man with one arm sighs, and fixes his posture, and makes way to a door with a heart imprinted on it. you look at your phone, it has given you the spade shape- and you take your place to the third door. to your left, the girl you spoke to has been chosen for clubs- and the woman has been designated for diamond.
you each enter your respective rooms and the door shuts behind you. it seems to be an office, a television is placed on the wall in front of you- though it seems to be off. a single industrial light illuminates the room, hanging off of the cement ceiling. there are bookcases and a rolling chair placed naturally as well. but what catches your eye is a sheet placed over a silver table. your patient is waiting.
the tv lights up, and the 2 hour countdown has begun.
you see a patient file ontop of the chair, and open it up. there, you find the odd names for several tumors diagnosed to the hopefully fake body. there are four, and you’ve never cut up a person before. the idea of it starts to make you gag harshly- but the overbearingly loud ticking from the tv brings you to your senses.
each listed tumor has a card symbol beside it, and the pale dead man in front of you begs for your attention. the first you decide to go for is the angiosarcoma, linked with a heart symbol.
you browse the books behind you, searching for anything on anatomy- until you finally spot one in the top shelf. you continue your rapid search, the time going down more as you look for health science information. scoring it and shakingly looking for the desired cancer amongst the table of contents. flipping to the page, its detailed and graphic in every nature, but its enough to tell you what you need to do to get out. you sit up straight and lift the sheet completely off of the man- seeing the deep purple and black spotting on his right hip and grab the scalpel amongst the tools next to his body.
getting to work, you disgustingly plunge the scalpel into his hip, and cut jaggedly like a true amateur. the idea of mixing his still blood with your dusted and dirty hands makes you cringe, but you still pull the flap of skin back to use the tongs to grip onto the tumor that comically is shaped most definitely like a heart. cutting it out, you throw it onto the silver plate between the man’s legs.
3 more to go.
the tv stops the time at 1 hour, 23 minutes, and 57 seconds. looking up, it flickers to a 3-way split screen and you can clearly see all of the other players, the lights dim for all 3, but you don’t lose sight of how the one-armed man has a woman in front of him, her serene frame degraded by his lengthy and bloody cuts on her ribs, his hand and shirt has her freshly dead blood on him and you see the frustration is rising in him. he doesn’t notice he’s being watched, and you wished he did so maybe he would stop. but he doesn’t, and he claws out a chunk of her and throws it into the bin. suddenly, he starts screaming- thrashing around as you see the bracelet on his arm expand and push wired needles into his forearm. they’re electrocuting him and hes gargling on his own spit and blood.
you look away quickly, and notice the older woman simply staring at the bookself, the cloth on the dead patient has not been touched. you assume she gives up.
the girl however, has books littering the floor, shes hunched over the female body given to her- and you can see her using her knee to pin down spots of flesh so she can remove her selected tumor.
your light dims.
this is incredibly real to you, and you rapidly start to move on to the next tumor. merkel cell carcinoma listed has a diamond placed against it, and you search his whole body for something you saw in the textbook. and it takes a while, before your light dims again. you look up- but the tv has stayed on the time, the playing broadcast has ended for you.
its harder to see now, and you rely on your fingers to feel the smooth but protruding bumps on the backside of his neck. within ten minutes, you have thrown the diamond tumor into the plate. and the tv flickers back to the broadcast- pausing your time once again at 48 minutes.
you notice the woman’s light is completely out, her figure is practically invisible to you. the man twitches with every movement- the volts have traumatized his body. but the girl is relentless. she’s aggressively tossing the dead woman in her room, bending her neck over a pile of books as she uses the butt of her scalpel to feel down the woman’s spine.
you’re wasting time staring at them. you need to finish.
the third, melanoma spotted on the back calf of his left leg, was simple- but its removal was difficult and has left you with 19 minutes remaining.
you’re eager to get this over with, the last tumor however, is blanked out by black marker and has the spade symbol against it. how are you supposed to solve that? you would be able to see it maybe if your light was fully lit, but its near pitch black in the room. panic seeps in.
you search for anything in the two books- but there are no special indents, pages out, bookmarks- nothing. you just stare at the time, at 7 minutes, you know you won’t win.
until you stare longer at the tv, and see the barely visible reflection of your door. you quickly turn- and see the ribbed detailing on the flatly grey door thats shut against the walls. on the other side, spade was imprinted into the door… why has the imprint not gone through? you trace the ribbed door, feeling its curves.
curves?
you feel the detailing once more, and it feels like its forming an eye. eye cancer.
you rush to the book, and you can sense the light beginning to flicker again.
you search among the various eye tumors listed, and reach over the poor man you are about to deface and see nothing wrong in his eye, until you lift the lid of his right eye.
its pupil is pale with grey and yellow.
retinoblastoma.
but you cant remove it without taking out his eye, and you remember what happened to the man. but if the lady was truthful, you did not want death’s demons to bring you to your end so quickly.
with bravery you grip onto the edge of his socket, speaking a desperate apology before popping the eye out and the light flickering out.
how are you to see this now? the eye had not ripped its nerves so you were not yet punished. yet.
the only light is from the tv screen, turning your 3 minutes into 2. you begin to jump off the table, and push it closer to the wall with the tv, grabbing the man and slumping him against it as you lift the face towards the television where the light gracefully points out the yellow matter in the back of his eye.
once removed, your light comes back on, and its nearly blinding. you did it
the broadcast begins again- the woman is still in darkness, but the screams she makes are noticeable regardless. all three get injected by their bracelets- the man is sobbing and weeping like a child because he has already known the pain. the girl screams, kicking the silver plate across the room as her arm tenses and burns against the needles. she stares at the camera, shes found it. and she stares into your soul with hate.
she joins the dead body when the needles dig completely into her.
GAME CLEARED! CONGRATULATIONS!
you can feel the bile rising in your throat as the tv shuts off and the spades door opens and greets you with the now empty entranceway- with a single white table holding a two of diamonds playing card.
they’re really dead.
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ace-of-gay · 1 year
Text
Whatever works than im in
Bucky x reader
Hurt and comfort kinda but its not emotions hurt entirely
1048 words
Warnings: no pronouns, chronic pain, negative thoughts of ones self but bucky fixes it kinda, nudity but in the way of bathing and puting on lotion
No weight, shape, gender, age or skin types mentioned
Dont like it? Dont read it, you are responsible for your media consumption especially when theres highlighted warnings
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《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》
Every day was different for how much pain you were in, where that pain was located, how you could move and situate yourself to feel the least amount of pain. Standing some days was absolutely sickening, your body wanting to give out constantly and yet to the world all of this and even more is seen as an invisible disability. how is something so 'invisible' if it shows in how you walk, how your body flushes or your eyes go distant, you can see it happening so how come its ignored.
After so long you became used to ignoring it at the face of others, that doesn't mean it stopped you just learned to cover up your grimace or pauses with a stoic shell.
When Bucky came around you had willed yourself not to use any of your mobility aids around him but that wasn’t able to last forever, it took him a little bit of time to realize you were always in pain somewhere, from than forward he made it out to take it easy but still treat you as an independent adult.
Bucky learned early on that you knew almost every way to twist your body to relieve tension and pop joints like a chiropractor with spot on accuracy, however pain cant always be alleviated by twisting and bending and shifting your body.
Pain meds were deemed useless to your body, some days all you could do was lay under a weighted blanket and warm the aching parts with a heating pad, obviously staying hydrated and sleeping to hopefully alleviate the throb in your head.
Today had been extra painful to both your body and your mind.
You had to be slower and more aware of your movements, it made you feel a sense of worthlessness, like you don’t amount to much at all compared to people your age, everyone with a set career, a family, a house and some still in college but here you are barely able to do the laundry without shedding a tear of agony, it made you feel like a failure.
When Bucky got home he noticed first that the apartment had been tidied, clothes that had been on the table in the laundry basket were now elsewhere presumably put away, the dishes were done, he than noticed you nowhere to be seen in the entry area, living room or kitchen.
Walking through the apartment he heard the soft low him of music playing from the bathroom, knocking on the door and waiting for permission to enter.
Once granted he open the door stepping into the low-lit warm room to you relaxing in the bath, leaning back to keep as much or your achingly tired body submerged, crouching down to sit on his haunches he brushes you hair out of your face.
A smile upon his cheeks and eyes as sweet and beautiful as aquamarine, like waters in Greece on a sunny day especially now in the low-lit room where the shadows that cast still form a beautiful warm depth that you could soak in for as long as you could look at him, behind his eyes is a mind full of love and admiration to extent you wouldn't be able to comprehend, this man is head over heels for you and your mind just wont let you believe it.
Placing a kiss to your forehead and than your lips he asks you how your day was.
He had been unaware of the startled jump to your day, the construction beginning earlier than normal ripping you from your sleep, waking up dizzy and your bones not having enough rest from the night yet it had set a low note for the day however it had ended early due to the storm rolling in he now understood that you had most definitely outdone yourself today.
Finished with your bat he helps you up and lets you use him to stable yourself, wrapping up in a towel and going to take a step, a motion stopped when your vision flashes and falls black for a moment loosing all feeling and than its back, although normal its scary to both of you sometimes.
he helps you off to the room getting you to sit down upon the bed so he can grab you comfy pajamas consisting of his clothing and setting it to the side he grabs the lotion off the dresser for you.
"Do you want me to do this for you doll?", you shake your head "no its okay Bucky I’ve got it, I don't want to intrude on anything you still want or need to do" you smile pumping lotion into your hands rubbing it into your arms.
"you do not intrude on anything my love, you are perfectly fine and i genuinely want to help" he counters, convincing you to relax and let him take care of you.
He massages the lotion into your skin making sure to check in with you before continuing on with your legs after finishing your back.
Once done with lotion he helps you into pajamas getting you settled into the center of the bed, changing quickly and joining you after making sure you had what you need.
Cuddled up you cant get enough deep pressure from your weighted blanket so you fold it one over adding the surrounding weight onto the pressure weight yet still not enough to help.
Normally one would assume with pain comes needing softer lighter things but sometimes deep pressure is what comes in handy between the weight and the warmth its like being encompassed in a soothing depth.
"Hey uh Bucky?" You mutter out in mild anxiety for the question you plan to ask
"Yes dove?"
"This is going to sound strange but can you please lay somewhat on top of me? Like not all the way just some, i really need deep pressu" he interrupt’s your rambling
"If you feel it will help than id be happy to"
Shifting to cuddle how you asked, his right arm across your stomach his head on your left shoulder resting his gaze upwards at you, pulling the weighted blanket unfolded over the both of you, it may not have alleviated everything but it did soothe the mind letting you fall asleep
《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》
This is self indulgent, and im sorry its late, i haven't felt good and been very busy🧡🧡
130 notes · View notes
slayingqueenchal · 1 year
Note
Hiiii, will you write a part two of Stay away from
me, y/n? Pretty pleaseeeee
your Wish, my command
Stay away from me, y/n (2) | Regulus black x reader
PART 1 | PART 2
Like the first one y/n is james's little sister, and an insecure reg black :( , a bit slow, and it's about y/n being reminded about him, (happy ending), fluff and angst
Y/N/N : your nickname
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You left him standing, going to your friends. You had go act like everything was fine. "Hi" You said, coming to the Gryffindor table.
"Hey! " James said. "Hey" You replied back. You sat besides James. "Everything alright? " Asked Remus. Remus, Remus was the most un-oblivius boy in the whole marauder. But you knew you had to reply with "yeah, I'm fine," And 'smiled'.
"Good were coming to the zonko's, you want anything? Or do you wanna come" Asked sirius. "No, I'm good" You said. "Uhm, I need to go to my dorm, uhm goodni, I mean, good morning! " You said going to the Slytherins common room.
You felt a wave of emotions coming through. You couldn't sob in the middle of the great Hall can you, anyone who does that is mental.
While going to the common room, you saw him with Pandora. She was a good friend, but you couldn't help but be jealous.
But it wasn't your place to be jealous was it? He did say 'I love you' but it's nonsense. The only person in the black family that'll like you is sirius, and he's your other brother basically.
Ofcourse you went to your room, and cried. Its as if you broke up with someone, but you Were not dating. It hurts more than that.
You curled up your covers and just try not to think about anything but thats when it hit you. You know he loves you, or so he said, and, you Love him. Why dont you just solve this? But it isnt that easy isnt it.
Having to go to his not-so-good-friend isnt a very good idea, but its theres no choice. Not now, you're not going to talk now.
"Geez y/n, are you alright? " Pandora asked, carrying a bixt. "What the-How did you? What? " You took off your covers.
"I asked some first year to open it for me, 'said I was meeting a friend" Pandora then said "well, Regulus wanted to give you something".
"No he doesn't" You sighed. "He does, here" The ravenclaw gave you the neatly tied dark green box.
You opened it, and the first thing you saw was a purple pygmy puff. And berties botts beans. And a letter. You opened it.
'Dear y/n,
I'm sorry that I, said such things and have been ignoring you. I haven't seen you anywhere. And I think James know, heck, the whole marauders know. They've been giving me.. Some stares. And I knew from that you've told them. I'm sorry.
I just want you to know that I was not avoiding you because of you. It was because of me. I have feelings for you, I like you. It's not like how sirius likes you. It's different.
I love laughing with you, in a different way from Peter. I love studying with you, in a different way from Remus. I love you in a different way from James. Everything about you is perfect too.
And if you want to talk, I'll be in the courtyard, meet me and 5
Love, R.A.B'
"Oh Reggie, wait, isn't it still 12? " You asked. "No, y/n, It's almost 5! " Pandora rushed you outside, carrying your pygmy puff.
You walked to the courtyard, and there he was. Sitting. "Reg? " You said. "Y/n, you came? " He said.
"Of course, I did, reg" You said. "Look, I'm sorry about everything I said and done, I swear none of it means anything" He said.
You stomach dropped. "It doesn't mean anything?, the I love you part was nothing? " You asked.
"Depends on how you want me to feel," Regulus looked at you. "Reg.. I love you, and my best hope is that you do too" You smiled, weakly.
"Y/n I love you" Said Regulus. "But what about your family? " You asked. "I'm going to do it like Sirius, I guess.. I'll be bad, get kicked out, and we can be together" He said. Bittersweet, mostly bitter.
"Reg, no, you can't leave your family" You backed out from him. "No, y/n, they're not my family, you are" Regulus said
And you probably know who stayed for the whole summer in you and James's house.
"Brother, I have 100% forgiven you for your doings" Said Sirius while hugging regulus. That moment is where Regulus's life became better.
51 notes · View notes
robinismywifee · 7 months
Text
Back to the Old House - Chapter 6:
September 4th, 2034
[4 days after last chapter]
Raines age: 16 years, 6 months
Ellies age: 15 years, 3 months
CW: Struggling with eating, anxiety
Words: 3046
Masterlist
[Comment if you want to be added to taglist]
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Raines POV:
As I got dressed for the first day of school, I couldn't stop thinking about Cat.
Jesse seemed like he wasn't close with her and their interactions were kind of awkward, but they probably were a lot more awkward because I was just silently standing there. And who was Cat talking about when she said 'we are all gonna watch a movie' and invited Jesse to come? Would Ellie be there? Or was it a separate friend group? Since Cat mentioned that Dina would be there, maybe it was just Dinas girl friends and Jesse would join them, which is why he was so awkward?
Yeah, theres no way Jesse would be friends with Ellie. I would have seen them talking or he would have mentioned her by now. Yeah, definitely no way, he loves to talk about his friends and I would remember if he mentioned Ellie.
Also, I really hoped that Cat didn't tell anyone about the whole, me-calling-Ellie-that-word thing. Fortunately, I don't think she did since Jesse never mentioned it and didn't treat me any different after that day.
I had eaten breakfast with Maria and Tommy earlier this morning but they had to leave early since today was a busy day. Point is, it was an empty house. So when I finished tying my shoes and heard a knock at the door, I was confused.
I quickly grabbed my bag and left my room, once I made it to the front door, I peaked through the little hole. Fuck, it's actually for me.
I took a deep breath in, and opend the door, "Hey Raine, I figured you'd not wanna walk alone, and it'd be easier if we all walked together" Jesse smiled, glancing over to his girlfriend, since him and Dina got back together at that hangout Cat had invited him to.
"Hey, I don't know if you remember, but i'm Dina" she said with a shy smile, probably nervous of how I was gonna react this time.
I nodded, "Yeah, i'm sorry for.. how I acted last time I saw you. I'm not good at meeting new people." I said, fidgeting with my hands, I had practiced for this moment along with meeting other students and teachers.
Dina smiled genuinely, "It's okay, I get it, it must be stressful for you" I smiled back, unsure of how to reply.
"Knew you'd two would get along sooner or later! Now c'mon, we're gonna be late!" Jesse interrupted, which I silently thanked because it would have gotten awkward, real fast.
As we walked, I talked more with Dina. She actually wasn't bad, and was pretty great. I can see why Jesse likes her.
Once we got to the school building, I realized how much I was talking with Dina, it surprised me that I wasn't struggling too much with talking to her. She kept it chill, while Jesse would add in crazy or random things.
I followed them to the third floor of the building, "First class! Math. Kinda boring" Dina mumbled, as we entered the room.
There was about 15 other kids seated, all around my age. Dina dragged me by my arm to one of the tables, "Wow, if I knew you were gonna steal my girlfriend I wouldn't have introduced you two." Jesss sarcastically mumbled.
All the Tables sat 2 people each. and were pushed together into 3 horizontal rows. We sat in the row furthest from the front of the room, I sat in the first table on the left side, in the right chair of the table alone, with Dina sitting next to me in the other table, then Jesse next to Dina. Nobody else was in the row with us.
The teachers desk was in the front of the room in the right corner, she sat with a smile on her face, chatting with some teenagers that were in the front row, she seemed in her mid 30s.
More and more students came in and sat down, except I didn't pay much attention to them since me, Dina, and Jesse were busy chatting about our favorite foods, and what we hadn't had but wanted to try. I did more listening then chatting. Jesse really wanted apple pie.
Someone sat down next to Jesse which made him leave the conversation to chat to instead, I didn't really look to see who it was as I was daydreaming about the meal Dina was describing that her mom used to make.
"And she would melt the cheese and add herbs to it-"
A voice cut my train of thought off. Annoying and high pitchhed. I turned to where it came from, only to see her and her stupid short black hair. But what caught my attention was the girl that sat to the right of her.
My heart sped up and my eyes widened.
How the fuck did I not even think about that chances of her being here?
She sat looking down at her lap, playing with her hands, and leg bobbing up and down. Her stupid girlfriend was faced the complete opposite of her to talk to Jesse, that she didn't even notice her poor, anxious, girlfriend.
I could feel my heart starting to pump, when the loud, chatting, class got shushed by the teachers loud voice.
"Good morning everyone!" She cheered, with a big smile. Everyone stopped their conversations to turn to her, replying back with different variations.
"I am so ready to be back, I missed you all so much"
This is already a trillion times better then dumb QZ school. She was smiling, greeting the class in a nice manner, saying she missed her students? This all felt so foreign.
"We have some new students, so welcome welcome, i'll be your teacher for the rest of the year for a few different subjects! I'm Miss Collins"
The teacher then took attendance, I felt my heart speed up when I heard Ellie mumble a quiet, 'here'.
It reminded me of back at the QZ when my heart would speed up from it too. I didn't like the feeling.
Miss Collins didn't really teach anything today, it was just kinda her going over what we were going to learn starting tomorrow, and the subjects she teached; math, science, health.
Then, right as Miss Collins finished explaining where we went after lunch, the bell went off. She had earlier explained how the bell worked just in case people didn't already know.
Everyone stood up and began to leave, it was overwhelming the amount of people there was. Even though I knew I was safe, I felt endangered.
"Hey, you okay?" Jesse asked, "Oh, yeah, i'm fine. Lets go" I quickly replied, he nodded, knowing I wasn't, but didn't push any further.
Cat and Ellie had already left and was infront of us everyone walked down the halls, Dina was holding Jesses hand and had her hand on my shoulder so we wouldn't get lost in the crowd.
Once we made it to the cafeteria, everyone sat down at random tables with their friends. The cafeteria just had random placement of tables and in the corner there was a place were you could get food.
Dina took us to a table in the corner since it was the only good spot left, I spotted Cat and Ellie only 2 tables away.
Once we all sat down, I noticed that I had the perfect view of Ellie. Fuck.
"Did you bring a lunch Raine?"
I nodded my head, Maria had packed me a lunch, "Yeah, but.. i'm not really hungry"
"Oh, big breakfast?" Dina asked, I nodded, picking at my nails. Little bit more then half a scrambled egg? Hudge breakfast.
"Well, i'm gonna go get my lunch since I didn't pack any. I'll be right back!" Dina said happily, getting up and making her way over to the food stand.
"So, whattya think?" Jesse asked, looking like an idiot as he did jazz hands.
"Huh?" I asked confused, he sighed, putting down his hands, "About school so far! Duh!"
"Oh.. I mean we don't get to learn anything till tomorrow.. so, I dunno" I replied, watching as he took out his bagged lunch, dumping it out on the table.
"True, but, what do you think about what you've experienced so far?" he questioned, unraveling his sandwich.
"Uh.."
To be honest I just spent the whole 'experience' thinking about Ellie or watching her from my peripheral vision..
"It's okay so far."
Jesse finished swallowing his food before nodding, "Yeah, okay, that isn't a negative answer, i'll take it!"
Dina then came back with her school food, which looked to be a really sad sandwich with barley any meat in it, and grapes.
"So, are you excited for your art class next period?" Dina asked, popping a grape in her mouth. Next period was all the 'extra' classes that you signed up for; gym, art, or medical. If you didn't wanna do any of those, then you go down a floor and help with the daycare.
I smiled slightly, "Yeah i'm actually excited for that"
"It should be fun, everybody I know whos taken it loved it. Plus everyone says the teachers nice"
"Whos the teacher?"
"Oh, it's the same girl that works at the library, everybody calls her Mrs R, her last name is hard to pronounce. I've met her a few times though, she's super artsy and cool!" Dina explained,
I nodded, excitement building up in me.
"Hey you sure you're not hungry?" Jesse randomly asked, "Yeah, like I said, big breakfast." I nodded.
Dina and Jesse started to tell a story of how Jesse tried to become a bird a few winters ago- or some weird shit like that, but the whole time, I was staring at the girl a few meters infront of me, zoning out on her. She was so close that I could faintly make out her and Cats conversation- well at least whenever Jesse didn't yap in my ear.
"Can't you just pretend like that never happened?"
Ellie said, a frustrated look on her face, eye brows scrunched and eyes squinted. Cats annoying voice spoke back-
"Why are you defending her! Shes an asshole!"
"You don't fucking know her!"
"I know enough!"
Ellie rolled her eyes, and went to stand up, but Cats hand grabbed tightly on her wrist, pulling her back down,
"Cat, let go."
I watched as Cat shook her head no,
"Come on Ellie just sit back down, I'm sorry I yelled, I don't wanna argue"
Cat sounded like she was gonna cry,
"Cat, just let go."
I heard Cat talk but couldn't make out words, it sounded like she was pleading to Ellie, and then, Ellie ripped her hand away from Cats grip, She took her bag and left.
The exit happened to be right behind me and the table I sat at, so Ellie had to go in my direction.
As Ellie sped walked with her head down, she glanced up and instantly made eye contact with me. I was stuck in the trance and didn't look away.
As Ellie stared back at me, I could see her watery eyes, she then quickly moved her head back down and moved her eyes to the floor. I noticed a tear run down her cheek.
As she sped walked out of the cafeteria, I glanced at Cat to see her death staring me. She gave me one last look that could kill, and then turned away.
I look behind me at the exist. I then remember what Maria packed me: a chicken sandwich.
I don't know what type of food Ellie does or doesn't like, but who doesn't like chicken? Plus Maria told me that I got lucky staying with her since she has first dibs on the good food, so Ellie probably doesn't have chicken just laying around in her fridge, and it's definitely a step up from the cafeteria food that she was not even eating.
I glanced between Jesse and Dina who were cought up in a playful argument. I grabbed my backpack off the ground, swinging it over my arms, made sure Cat or anybody wasn't looking, and left.
I didn't even realize what I was doing when I made it to the bathroom. It wasn't until I opened the door and our eyes already contected. Blue meeting green.
My heart sped up, Why the fuck am I doing this?
I started silently freaking out, the door making a loud noise shutting behind me jolted me out of my trance.
Ellie was now looking away. Anywhere but me. Her face was red and many tears were staining her cheeks.
I gulped, I guess since i'm already here i'll just do what I came for. and moved my backpack off my shoulder, so it was on one of my shoulders and infront of me. I unzipped it and opened the paper bag that was still in my backpack. I pulled out the wrapped sandwich, along with a napkin. I zipped my bag with one hand, and put it over both my shoulders again.
Ellie was watching me with scrunched brows confused. I slowly stepped over to her till she was at arms length, and reached out to her, with the sandwich in hand, motioning for her to grab it.
She hesitantly reached her hand out, "I- Is this posion?" she asked in a voice that you could hear she had been crying.
I shook my head no, and moved closer to her waiting for her to take it, "Its' chicken" I mumbled in a quiet voice. She looked into my eyes and back to the wrapped food, and slowly took it from me.
After she took, I immediately turned around and left, I heard her call my name and for me to
wait, but I just sped walked away.
୨♡୧
I walked into the Art classroom, it was already filled to the brim. It was a small room packed with supplies, I smiled slightly at all the paint and material laying around the room. There was even canvas stands with white untouched canvases in the corner.
"Welcome, welcome, you may sit anywhere!" I heard a voice say, I turned to the right to see who I assumed the teacher. After giving her a second glance, I could confirm, she was. Her dark brown curly hair was in a messy bun, strands flying everywhere, she had a pencil ontop of her ear and red reading glasses with the beads around her neck so the glasses wouldnt fall off, and her for her outfit she seemed to be wearing a long plaid dress.. definitely a librarian and an artist.
I looked around the room to choose were to sit. My small smile dropped when I saw Cat. She didn't seem to notice me yet though.
I walked over to an empty table, sitting down and began to fidgit with my hands under the desk nervously.
I saw converse shoes walk in the door, and I immediately recognized whos feet they were. My eyes widened and I looked up to make sure. Yep. There stood Ellie Williams. Of fucking course she would take this class! Any time Riley wasn't with her, her damn nose was either in her notebook or those dorky comics.
Mrs R welcomed Ellie, and they held a conversation for a few minutes, catching up. They seemed to get along well.
It felt so weird to hear Ellies voice. Especially how you could hear her smile in it, and I noticed how her voice got at least a pitch deeper then back at the QZ.
Once they finished their short conversation, I watched in my peripheral vision how Ellies eyes got wide when she noticed me in the class. Ellie stood frozen for a good 30 seconds, before looking around the room. I heard her sigh, and watched as she walked over to Cat.
"Hey Baby.." Cat said to Ellie, I visibly cringed.
"i'm really sorry if I made you upset earlier.. I didn't mean to, and we could talk more about Ra-"
"Shhh- keep your voice down Cat!"
It almost sounded like Cat was gonna say my name? But Ellie cut her off.. probably just me overthinking.
"Wha- why?"
Cat hummed quietly, but the classroom was filled with calm chatter and they sat sorta close to me, so I still could hear.
Ellie then whispered really quietly to Cat, and Cat whispered back, seeming suprised. I really wish I could hear them better.
A girl with blonde hair came in and sat down next to me, not saying a word to me, she only sat down next to me since it was the only open seat left, so I didn't think much of it.
The class then started, and I almost forgot about Ellie, when Mrs R talked about the art we were to learn. Almost.
As much as I tried not to, I kept on glancing at Ellie. Almost everytime I looked at her, she was already looking at me. I hated it.
It's not my fault we were both facing eachother!
The bell went off an hour and a half later. It was nice, Mrs R made it fun. I even talked to the blonde girl since she made us talk to whoever we sat with. Her name was Claire. She was also relatively new to Jackson.
As I got up, Ellie passed by my table, she even made eye contact when she passed, her eyes were strained. What I didn't expect was to see her place down a tiny folded paper on my table.
I looked up to her with scrunched eyebrows, but she already had her back turned and was existing the classroom.
I looked to my left to see Claire just now getting up, she was eyeing the paper, probably wondering what it was.
I took the paper in my hand and turned so Claire couldn't see it, unfolding it. The paper held one word.
why?
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Text
Relationship headcanons
just a small thing to post to hold people over while i work on some other things !!
also !! requests are open on my blog ! atm its only headanon requests while i work on some fics but maybe some day ill open up fic requests hshsh-
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Characters : Louis, Violet, Clementine, Marlon
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Louis :
He would write music about you, he'd probably be scribbling down different notes while having a moment with you. He writes down different words and phrases that describe you to keep for later when he goes to make lyrics
🌿
He doesn't care who's around, he loves public affection. He always has an arm wrapped around you or is holding your hand in some way
🌿
while you two are laying down for the night hes the type to play with your hair and hum until the both of you fall asleep next to eachother for the night
🌿
He gets easily flustered over small gestures, you kiss him? he cant speak. You flirt? Hes nearly gone. Any gesture makes him smile like an absolute idiot
🌿
If you mention something you like you best believe he will be looking for it to give to you as a gift, he likes seeing the way your face lights up when you get something you like :)
Violet :
She likes to sketch, so she often will just kinda draw you while you arent looking, when you come across her notebook one day and ask her about it, all she says is "Since i cant take a picture, i draw you instead..That way i can always keep a little something of you with me.."
🌌
She gets very shy with public affection, however she will do that thing where she locks pinkies with you under a table or while you're walking next to eachother
🌌
Loves to stargaze with you, though sometimes in the middle of it she'll lean her head on your chest and fall asleep
🌌
When you do something stupid she says "Thats not funny" meanwhile she cant stop smiling and laughing
🌌
Eventually, you both end up sharing a room, and a part of the wall ends up dedicated to all the small doodles shes made of you (theres alot), sometimes you both pause to just kinda look at it and embrace eachother :)
Clementine :
Something tells me she has somewhat trouble reading due to how when the apocalypse started she was only in 1st grade, so, that being said, she likes it when you read to her. Doesn't matter where, if you two are laying down she rests her head against yours, but if you both are just sitting and doing something she leans against you.
🍊
Will fall asleep sometimes while listening to you read, it makes her feel soft and safe :)
🍊
Aj probably drew a picture of you both and its hung up in her room
🍊
If you were to flirt with her i feel like at first it would go over her head for a moment until she thinks about it more, then she just like "...Oh"
🍊
When she has nightmares, you've begun helping her more so Aj can rest. You both made a whole routine to calm her down and it works enough to get her back to sleep
Marlon :
Protective to the MAX, he just wants u to be safe, if somone from another group even looks at you the wrong way then hes pissed
🐾
You help him through his issues and in return he becomes soft with you, he says he hates it but secretly loves it when you hug him tightly and reassuringly
🐾
tries to act tough but will instantly melt when you hold his hand or something along the lines of that
🐾
holds you very close in order to fall asleep, and then you both wake up absolutely tangled in eachother
🐾
Rosie instantly also becomes protective over you and absolutely loves you to bits, she follows the both of you around and snuggles with you both :)
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cevans-is-classic · 1 year
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Winter Flowers
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18+ only, please. Sexual Content with some fluff. Language, oral sex, fingering, and unprotected sex.
Autumn Flowers - Spring Flowers - Summer Flowers - Autumn Vows
My master list and my Chris list.
When the air turns freezing, Chris noticed the newest vase sitting beside the toaster in the kitchen. He stroked a finger down the side of the snowdrop, tilting it up to lean down and breathe it in. When had you brought this one home? 
The vase was a crystal blue, white snowflakes patterned it — Chris thought of the blue scarf you wear, the way you bundled yourself in it, layering with a matching hat and a down jacket. He loved watching you wrap it around and around until it sits right along your shoulders and bury your face in the warmth of it before peering at him with bright eyes. 
He thought of the last autumn piece that sat in the middle of the table at thanksgiving and how happy you were when his Mom complimented the choices. 
You loved so many things, always pointing out books, movies, and different hobbies you rotated between. He could get you something personal? Maybe something he knew you would never buy yourself but would use it daily, or he could go the extravagant root and take you on a trip to somewhere you always wanted to go?
Hmm, this would be the first Christmas the two of you planned to spend together.
He rubbed a petal between his fingers, being careful not to tear the fragile flower, and thought over what he could get you. 
Oh, that would be nice. 
You’d always wanted to see Europe and Chris had been there more times than he could keep track of. He’d love to see the sights through fresh eyes and watch the way you reacted to it. How would you feel if he brought you to Greece? To Rome? Walked the louvre in Paris with you or see the mountains of Ireland? 
Although, much like him, you weren’t a fan of large, loud surprises and he knew he’d have to talk you through it between the long airplane trips and being in an unfamiliar place. He’d save that idea for later, for an anniversary or a getaway that the both of you wish to take. 
Could he put something together for you? Maybe a collection of your favorite things or an edit of your favorite behind the scene videos he takes on set; that would be both personal and extravagant — kinda. He could think of plenty of things he could put together. How’d he present it to you, the way he’d add brief clips of the two of you together and make sure you had copies for when you were away? There is also the thought of a grand gesture- 
Wait - he looks around the room, notices the jacket you had hanging by the closet, the glass of water you had on the side table, an extra pair of glasses leaning against the lamp from where you’d thrown them off last night. Chris knew if he opened the bottom two drawers of his closet shelves he’d find clothes, toiletries, and other small things you may need while you were staying at his place. 
He rose to his feet to walk through his house, pointing out things to himself that you had left around or things you even purchased for yourself. The lactose free milk in the fridge, your favorite brand of cereal on the shelf, the Hawaiian comfort rolls you love, and the brand of ice coffee you drank. 
There was a pair of shoes he knew you were standing next to his and one of your smartwatches hanging from his key chain hooks. Spinning around his living room in a full circle, Chris paused, stopping to sit down on his couch and think through what he knew he’d get you for Christmas.
-
You knocked, which meant you had a bouquet to replace the dying one in the dining room. Chris smiled, looked at the box that sat on the coffee table. 
“Alright Buddy, tonight’s the night.” He mumbled to Dodger as he followed the canine towards the front door. 
You wore the blue scarf. It highlighted the redness of your cheeks and the bouquet you held up had a bag of starburst jelly beans nestled in the middle. “Theres more where that came from.” You grinned wide, shoving your way in as Chris grabbed for the bag and started opening it. 
“When did flowers produce Jelly Bean? Or did you get bored one week and experimented again?” 
You turned off the heel of your foot, moving the vase to rest on your hip to point a finger at him. “Get snarky, and I’ll have to punish you, and, if you recall, I was very high when that happened.” 
Chris chuckled, stepping forward to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in, being careful not to knock the vase you held. You hummed as he pressed you against his chest. His lips ghost your forehead, your cheek, then drew you in, leaning into you as you tipped up on your toes, push deeper into the kiss. Chris licked the seam of your lips, plunging in when you opened your mouth, and he tasted the peppermint hot chocolate you’d stopped to get. 
You were intoxicating. Something precious and wild he could hold in his arms, could lift until you had your legs around his waist and he could carry you towards the living room. He felt drunk on the roll of your hips after he’d gotten your jeans down, your underwear following with a soft brush down your legs, his tongue spreading you open after he trailed kissing up your calf and thigh. The moan of his name surged him upwards to share the taste of you. His fingers plunged into you, lifting your hip into the jut of his sweats covered cock. 
He could kiss you forever, listen to the sounds you made when he gripped you, when he sat the vase on the hallway shelf and tipped you into the wall.
You groaned, both arms wrapping around his back, one sliding to the top of his ass and the other pushing into his shoulder and pulling him closer.
“Fuck!” You jerked, eyes slipping close, his palm ground into your clit, fingers searching for the spongy part that made you tighten up, claw at his shoulder and, “God dammit, fuck, fuck—ungh!” That’s what he craved, what he ached for on long trips away from you and nights when you couldn’t stay. You shivered under him, pulsing around his fingers your mouth open, breathing hard as your head tilts backwards when his fingers starting stroking you again, slower, without rhythm. 
“I left your gift here.” You breathed out. 
Chris bobbed his head. “Uh, I would have noticed a package.” 
You shark grinned, “Would you?” Your hand moved from his back to his cock, pressing down, gripping the outline of him to rub against him. 
“How?” You pulled at the drawstrings, slid both your hands to his ass and pushed into the waistband, grabbing at him to grind his cock into your heat. 
“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.” He wouldn’t argue with that.
Sinking into you was a dream. The gasp you draped over his lips when he first presses in, the tightness of your thigh beneath his hand, the way you groaned when he used the other hand to tug your head back. He licked down your neck, over your throat and back up to nip at the skin beneath your chin. He snapped his hips to match the drop of yours and it dragged him into a pool of heat.
How could he have this every day, every night, for the rest of his life? What made him this lucky to get your ‘Good luck’ messages when he did an interview or went to an award show? The ways you helped to center him when everything felt out of control. Did he make a wish, one he’d long forgotten, for the best person to enter his life be you?
What deity out there allowed him to have someone that was their own true self, not for another person, but for themselves. Who worked at discovering a life they could cultivate for themselves without turning to resentment and lack of patience. A partner who showed up on his doorstep with flowers and warmth he wanted to bask in. Above all else; what made him take so long to find you? 
He buried his face in your neck when you dug your nails into his back, grabbed at his hips and fucked yourself down onto him. “Such a good boy.” You praised him, “Right there - right there, baby.” He ground down, helpinh you rub your clit along him, love feeling you drip and lifted his head in time to watch your eyes roll up, your mouth fall open and a deep guttural moan wet your lips. 
“God, fucking dammit, Baby, baby, yes.” Chris went faster, wrapped both your legs round his waist, slid his hand under your hips to push you up and dropped his head back down to help angle himself deeper, “I want this every fucking day. I don’t want to be anywhere but inside you; with you.” You started fucking back against him. The tremor of your legs driving him forward, hips snapping as fast as he could go while you clawed at his back and dug into his cheeks. 
“Always! Always, my sweet boy, my love.” You always kissed these words against his cheeks when he was like this. When he wanted to bathe in you. Be a part of you. 
When he felt you squeeze yourself around him, shivering through another orgasm, he growled your name and spilled into you, fucking his hips in and out to feel your wetness and his come mix. 
As you both calmed down, breathing heavy, letting the sweat that collected cool your bodies — Chris caught the look in your eyes that made his chest grow tight and happy shivers dance down his spine. 
It’s okay.
“Come here often?” Chris barked out a laugh, your own joining in and it to mingle together and snapped something loose through his body.
“Move in with me.” slipped past his lips, followed by an embarrassed, “I swear that was planned—uh differently though. I got you a key.” His stomach dropped, neck prickling with panic that you be upset at his timing. Maybe you’d let him down easy, or you’d tell him you don’t feel comfortable moving in with him; which is okay.
Chris knows it’s okay.
Your body pushed his soft cock out as you set up underneath him and leaned forward to nip at his shoulder, “Sure.” 
He jerked from the shock of your teeth and the answer you so readily gave him as if you’d been willing to offer it all along. 
“Really?” 
You moved again to shove him back and climb into his lap, “I don’t know if you noticed but I basically already live here, Evans.”
You rolled your hips above him and Chris lost his track of thought to the twitch of his sprung cock. His last coherent thought whispering that he was going to live with you and pick out flowers together.
I want to shout out to @bolontiku and @xoxoloverb and my partner's partner for dealing with me.
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insecxreasalwqys · 1 year
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my heart, will never feel, will never see, will never know. oh, heart, and then it falls, and then i fall, and then i know. (wip)
  Hi. So uhm, i havent been on here for a while, and i don’t think i will be going on here anymore. I know theres probably no more than 3 people reading this, but thats okay. This is probably my last post on here. Thank you to everyone who has read my stuff. I really appreciate it. I enjoyed writing stuff. I just think that im not so interested in alice in borderland anymore. Thank you @thee-yunatic-pixie for helping me, and i am so grateful. So, yeah. Here’s the last thing i wrote, and i hope its not too bad. I hope you can look back at my first post, and look here, as it is my last, and think i improved. I didnt check the spelling, or grammar, or really anything related to it, but it hope you can understand the events, and stuff. This is also a wip, so uh thats why it sounds kinda unfinished? 
 “I’m envious of you.” Chishiya said. And, right there, Chishiya felt the thing he hated the most. And that, that thing, was disappointment. During the game, his expression was very condescending. Very prideful. However, that and his smirk fell with the acid. He always knew. Of course he did. He always knew that whenever he manipulated people into sacrificing themselves for him, their death wouldn’t hold significance (?). Chishiya would just go on and live his life, not acknowledging them at all. Yet, never once, did he feel disappointed in himself in doing so. It was not until now. Whether it was because Kuzuryuu accepted it, or just because, it felt different. As Chishiya got up, and began to walk away, he paused. He looked back at the table, his eyes landing on the seat across from his. The seat which the man he was talking to just minutes ago had sat. And, for the first time, Chishiya felt a sharp jab of remorse; of empathy pierce through his chest. 
    Even before Kuzuryuu sacrificed himself, Chishiya saw people do selfless things left, and right, yet, Chishiya never could wrap his head around why. Why would you help somebody who never helped you? And, even if they did, shouldn’t it always be yourself before others?
    Chishiya sat there for hours, physically idle. Yet, his mind was quite the opposite. He was trying to figure out what his problem was. If so many people were kind-hearted, and selfless, then the only logical explanation, would be that it was something to do with him. And so, the boy did not allow his mind to rest. Not for a second. Not even when the rain began to fall. 
    Every day, Chishiya would walk by his dad’s room, taking a quick glance. However, he saw the same thing, over, and over again. He would be facing that computer of his, with books piled around him. The only time it was different, was when the room was empty. Even when his dad was in there, it felt not much different than when it was empty. 
    Usually, Chishiya would have stopped thinking about it here, but this time, he did not allow himself to. He then realized that the problem was not rooted in his past, but rather, in his, for lack of a better word, morals. He figured many people had been through the same thing, and worse, but did not act the way Chishiya did. 
    See, Chishiya’s morals were: Nobody cared about me, so I’m not going to care about anybody. Including myself. 
     But for the other people who decided to act differently, their morals were: Nobody cared about me, so I’m going to care about everybody. 
    And, with that, he got up, once again, and took a walk. Chishiya decided from that point, that he would try a little harder. And, I suppose, be a better person.      “I won’t be able to get proper treatment in this country.” Chishiya sighed. Although he felt a small sting, the pain hadn’t kicked in. He heard Arisu and Usagi talking, yet he could not process what it was that they were talking about. Then, the stinging went to his nose, and before he knew it, the stinging turned into more of a tingle. After that, well, I suppose Chishiya would have liked to tell you it was a drop of rain that fell near his eyes, but that was not the case.      The sun started to set, and Chishiya hadn’t moved an inch.
     “Because of you, I finally got to live my life the way I wanted to. Thank you, Chishiya.”      This time, when Chishiya recalled these words, it was not disappointment he felt, but happiness, and maybe a drop or two of peace.
    Chishiya saw a burst of blue, then red, then many other colors following.The light lit up everything. The sky, the buildings, everything. Then, he heard a loud voice over the PA. “Now, all remaining players must decide if they accept permanent residency in this land, or if they do not accept.”     Chishiya stared at the ceiling, listening to the faint voice on the radio (if thats the word for it). It was listing names. Names of people who had died in the crash. “Kotoko Shiga, Urumi Aramaki, Keiichi Kuzuryuu-” Chishiya froze. Keiichi Kuzuryuu. The name sounded familiar. Painfully familiar. Chishiya could have sworn he had heard it before. He had no clue where, but it was somewhere. Somewhere. A place he had been in for a long time. It was so unclear to him about where it was, and what it was, but it felt so vivid at the same time.      ❤️
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rat-cigars · 2 years
Text
Damn Bitch You live like this?
masterlist
(a/n: yoo theres gonna be some more edward this chapter, maybe even a lil fluff. Bruce do be having to work and i hope you enjoy. Let me know what yall think <3 )
(TW: blood? Assault, drinking, emo shit)
*READER POV)
**EDWARD POV)
Wc: 1272
Possible Spoilers in this chapter
Afab!Reader (she/her) pronouns
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Chapter 17: Olive Garden
*This wasnt the best situation by any means, but at least there werent going to be any expensive bills or visits out in public. At least not to the hospital, you had managed to keep up with Edward, meeting up with him the next week after the first attempt.
This gave Edward ample time to hide all of his oddest possessions and to rent out another spare space at a different hotel, just to store his more hirrfying items. In the meantime you and Bruce had spoken a little more, mostly relating to your injuries though. He had been very kind during this time after, wondering if the event had actually stirred any sort of emotion from him.
Getting ready you looked in the mirror, your small cuts mostly just scars now, fading back into obscurity against your skin.
The black eye you had gotten would prove to be difficult to cover up, but that didnt matter, Edward would still lovingly accept you. Adjusting your hair and outfit one more time, you walked to meet Bruce in the kitchen. Alfred had been busy dealing with a recent roach infestation in the basement area, so he was unavailable. Leaving you and Bruce to ride out, he guided you to the car youd been using for work. Following behind you jumped into it with him, texting edward once again and you relaxed into the passenger seat, covering your face with sunglasses.
**Edward had been worried sick that night you canceled. It made his insides twist and turn in endless knots, the anxiety of you being sick worried him.
God knows what he was going to say when he would see your face.
You had texted him throughout the following week, updating him on how your day was going or telling him about your latest conversation with Jenna. He still got butterflies every time you texted him or better yet, when you would call him. He could listen to you talk for hours and a few of those days he had.
You had rambled in about your high school days, when you’d lived with your parents in a smaller apartment growing up.
Just spilling it all out for him to hear, unaware he’d already known the stories of your twisted ankle in 9th grade and how you had failed your geometry final.
But he loved it all, it sounded so heavenly listening to you speak to him about the most intimate details of your upbringing.
Now he was setting a small table in his living room, covering the wooden top with a clean white sheet and setting out the plates for you to use. You were still planning on the movies after, but he wanted to do something special to make you feel better after being sick last week.
Edward ordered some pasta and a bottle of wine from the local Olive Garden, setting the table up and waiting for you to knock on his door.
*Still heading down towards the hotel, you turned to Bruce. You studied his features as he drove, he had put up the hood of his jacket and stayed low, careful to avoid press. Of course he had learned this while growing up a recluse, avoiding anyone and everyone. You sat up a little, leaning away from the window and adjusting your jacket.
“Bruce..?” You choked out, even after spending the last few weeks knowing him, you still found it hard to form words around him.
“Y/n.” He returned flatly.
“I’m sorry..” you sighed looking down at your hands, finding it easier to speak to him. “I’m really sorry about all of this, if I would’ve known the press would react like that. Or that I could’ve just asked you or Alfred to take me.” Tears started to form but you blinked them away. “I would’ve just returned that text.” You huffed and he was silent for a moment before opening his mouth.
“I should’ve just called,” he shrugged, relaxing his hold on the steering wheel. “I should be apologizing for this mess. But neither of us saw this happening.” He offered a polite smile for a moment.
You nodded in agreement and looked back up out the window. “We’re almost here.” He said pulling up to the streetlight before the hotel's entrance.
“Be safe, and please call Alfred when you need a ride home.” Bruce seemed concerned but it was polite and quite nice to know someone would be waiting for you.
“Of course, Thank you, Bruce.��� You smiled and looked up to him, grabbing your small bag and headed out of the car and hurried into the lobby.
Rushing up to the elevator you removed your sunglasses and relaxed your nerves. Ron had greeted you when you entered and you were pleased to know he was going to be standing guard. Walking into the shaft you felt a flutter of anxiety about your meeting with Edward. You didn’t want to hear a lecture and hoped he would move past the subject entirely. As the doors opened and you exited, you wandered down to Edwards room, knocking on his door.
**Edward jumped at the sound, giddy as he peeked into the hole and opened the door for you. “Y/n!” He giggled but it was cut off when he saw the bruise around your eye. Instantly a sharp pain stabbed his heart, who would dare do this to you? He wondered as he studied your face turn a flushed rose color.
“H-Hey..” you had stuttered out. “W-What happened?” He was quick to usher you inside, his eyes never leaving the mark. “Oh nothing, the mansion has a ton of steps.” You chuckled.
He relaxed at the joking nature, surprised but happy you were in good spirits still. “Oh my god, you poor thing.” He leaned down to gently brush the skin, causing you to wince at his graze. He gasped and turned red, “sorry!” He apologized profusely, but you stopped him. You had noticed the romantic set up and had gently grabbed his hand smiling at him.
“Edward.. you did all this for me?” You sounded surprised, and almost as giddy as he had first been. This took him from his apologies and he turned to the set up, forming a small smile on his lips. “Of course I did.” He sighed happily and gently led you to the table, pulling your chair out.
You sat down and he pushed you back in, opening the bottle of wine and pouring it into your glass.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” You breathed out, the soft lighting from the room showed your eyes looking to his green ones. He smiled and leaned in on the table, “ Me too, you have no idea..” he purred and with that you giggled and began to fill him in on the events that had happened after leaving the hotel.
He listened intently and you continued to drink and mingle, teasing each other all the while. This was a dream come true for him, you really were perfect.
You had been following his plans without him even telling you. That’s what led you here, in this moment, drinking wine and spilling stories with him, Edward Nashton.
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nat-a-nat · 2 years
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WX-78 THEORY NUMBER 2 WAGSTAFF WAS NOT ALONE, SOMEONE CREATED WX WITH HIM
The flashback sequence is all possibly are from a characters perspective
In my previous theory i assumed the perspective switched from Wags to WXs, but theres a better explanation
Wagstaff wasn't alone
This the first scene of the flashback sequence
We enter a room then look down on a clipboard in our hands
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We get some flashes of WXs blueprints and the helmet
In the next full scene we see Wag, and what's more important he turns towards us It wouldn't make sense to change from a first person perspective to third person for one scene
But WX wasn't functional yet
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Next scene, we see WX on a table and we put on the helmet
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And who do we wake up as? 
WX
We see from their eyes now
And when Wagstaff walks into frame he looks surprised seeing WX moving implying he didn't think it would work or that he wasn't the one to make them work
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Switching reflections of WX
This proves WX was previously human
It doesn't match Wagstaffs silhouette, i thought for a bit it might be Webbers dad, as he has a connection to Wag as seen in the Webber short but the hait doesn't match
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In this scene i first thought it was possibly a flashback within a flashback. That the human hands were a different memory from WXs hands
But it might also be WX hallucinating their old body what's supported by WX looking down on their hands and Wag looking worried
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So, yeah, WX used to be a human that worked with Wagstaff
The empathy module might hold these memories, WX crushed it to destroy them
The only question is, why dont they want to remember?
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But most likely the module doesn't have anything to do with memories as seen by WX lines in game
Maybe WX is trying to escape from the guilt. They might have done some questionable things while working with Wagstaff
Or maybe escape the pain of being sent to The Constant by him
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THIS PICE OF INFORMATION I EITHER DIDNT KNOW OF OR FORGOT Everyone say thank you tumblr user @blacknight7890​ :)
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cattyanon · 8 months
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Hello. May I ask a possibly indelicate question? If you don't want to, you don't have to answer it. I just wanted to ask you something. About autism. Don't get any ideas, but I'm writing a story right now where one of the main characters is autistic. I honestly wouldn't bother you, but there's very little information on the internet about autistic people...
Oh yeah, that's fine!
One very important thing to note is that Autism manifests in different ways from person to person. Both with the triggers and how we react to them. So this is just my experience/the best I can explain.
Speaking of explaining, that's a good place to start on examples. You see, one thing my autism does is make it hard to explain things without thinking on it first. Especially when it's on the spot. Sometimes I'll try and explain things to my mom but then fumble over my words and ask her to give me a moment while I collect my thoughts. I like to refer to it as being "wording is hard".
Another example is whenever I hear a repetitive noise. It's not bad at first but the longer it goes on the more it frusterates and drives me crazy. Like I can try to ignore it but that only works for so long before I can't take it and have to ask them to stop or walk into a different room. But the thing is while repetitive noises might annoy me, another autistic person might do it as a stim. Like tapping their foot or a table. And since I'm mentioning noise, too much noise (especially if its loud) can overstimulate me.
The reactions to said triggers can vary too. Like becoming frustrated at everything for a while, yelling at them to stop doing whatever is annoying you, extensive crying, snalping at everyone and everything, and in some cases even hurting yourself or others. When they get as extreme as the last example, that's what you call a meltdown.
So I guess having autism can be seen as someone acting out of the expected societal norm? Like if you expect someone to act one way because that's how everyone else does it (or it's expected to be how everyone else does it) but then they act a way you definitely didnt see coming.
I think a good example of "out of the societal norm" would be comfort items. If you've never heard of the term, its basically something you bring with you everywhere because it makes you feel safer and/or happy.
In fact, I once had a meltdown because my old principal took away several of my comfort items (stuffed animals in my case) out of my inside pockets (they were pretty big pockets and the stuffed animals weren't that big so the bitch was able to take multiple). And as for my reaction, I am not exaggerating at all when I say that I was going to search the ENTIRE school to find them. And while that didn't end up happening, I promise you that I was.
So whereas you might expect a teenager to just get upset and/or annoyed but except it if their stuffed animal was taken from an authority figure, I was absolutely dead set on getting them back. Although for someone else, they might just cry a lot, or maybe they'd swear a bunch, or perhaps a m.jn.vmixture. I hope this makes sense?
Honestly the whole fact theres a "societal norm" pisses me off cause it shrouds those who don't follow it as weird (derogatory) outcasts that don't fit in when in reality it's just that everyone is different. There's nothing wrong with being different, being autistic, we just are. Nobody is the same and to expect that, that everyone should fit into this societal norm, is stupid.
0 notes
falcqns · 2 years
Note
hii! The compound sounds so cool! I can’t wait to see it for myself when I finally shift. Anyways, can you tell us a bit more about the 1. Location of the compound (like is it surrounded by woods, city etc) 2. Living room / common area (if there is one) and 3. Sizes / layouts of peoples rooms
I’m sorry if this was loads to answer, I’m just intrigued! I’m so happy you’ve shifted, well done!! Thank you :))
hi there!! the compound is in upstate new york, and there are a few trees but its not very 'woodsy' anymore since my dr takes place post endgame and a lot of trees were burnt to the ground during the explosion and the fight. as it is in upstate new york, its not surrounded by the city, which is nice at night.
as for the common areas, the kitchen, dining and living room is open concept, so it's all one big room. there are a few walls, but they're mainly stand alone walls. theres one that faces the offices for the backs of the cabinets, and then another wall for the tv and living room storage. the dining room is just open, and the table is super big (more than you'd ever need) as stark LOVES to host parties, although he's usually hosting them in the downstairs "public" area that i realize i forgot to put in my other post so that we don't have strangers taking over our personal spaces.
and the bedrooms are pretty big! they're big enough for a living space, and Nat is able to fit her, Carol and their daughter in one room more than comfortably, and i'm able to have Winnie's things (crib, bouncer, change table, etc) in mine without compromising a lot of space! i would recommend getting some rugs as the floor is cement and even though there is underfloor heating, it can still be cold, especially first thing in the morning. the bathrooms are huge as well, and we all have a separate shower and bathtub, and we have tons of counter space and storage. i would say the smallest thing about the bedrooms and bathrooms is the closet. its not as big as you'd think (its not a walk in) but there's definitely a ton of storage! i'm building the compound from my dr in the sims right now and i'm going to post pictures of it when it's done!
keep in mind the compound i'm living in is rebuilt, so it's not the original one seen in the movies as i changed things for my dr (Tony doesnt die, Nat doesn't die) and i had never visited the compound prior to endgame. i've been told that Tony formatted it different, that it's slightly smaller than the first one (which is surprising bc the compound is still spacious and huge) so it might look different for you, but you can always script in changes you want to make! i scripted that the pool was heated after shifting there for the first time because i was freezing my titties off lol.
happy shifting!
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