#like u can see in his first fight with the dark ace too that hes just throwing himself @ him which is why he loses nd almost dies

[busanboykoo]

Champagne Confetti ⋆ j.jk

summary ⋆ “you won't regret me, champagne confetti” or maybe just jungkook wants you to tell him what you want him to do to you.

pairing ⋆ racer!jk x reader

genre ⋆ smüt, a little plot, fluff?

warning ⋆ püssy whipped!himbo!kook, they’re so in lovvve but jungkook is much more in love!! fingëring, reader is pathetically horny, messy make out with reader’s püssy, puthay eating. squirting??? lover jungkook always, cüssing & overstimulation oh and mention of his brow piercing cause why not?!!

notes ⋆ ok so i just got back to writing smut aaand it’s been a while so wait for me until i improvise back to what i used to right!! and also a huge thanks to clover lover @dollfaceksj for beta-ing ⭐️ ily!! thank u sm <3 — word count ⋆ 2.5k !!

“I want you.”

These three words were the one that put you under this situation.

Right under him as he settled himself between your legs. Everything about now felt hot. The AC is on full power but the heat you’re feeling is hotter than anything.

Your brows are cinched when Jungkook places his hand on your thighs, the rough skin of his palm on your soft skin smoothly, pressing and kneading on the flesh. He is comfortably kneeling between your legs, his control face now relaxed.

“Tell me what you want.” His eyes flick between yours and down to your exposed and soaked panties in return, biting on his scarlet lips. Your skin feels tingly, your forehead beginning to create a sheen of sweat. Your room is getting hotter and hotter and the AC is not helping at all.

You’re so quiet, not even sounding like the minx you were mere seconds ago. “C’mon, baby,” Jungkook encourages, wanting to hear you loud and clear for him.

You want him. You want everything all at once.

You still can’t erase the memories of him racing half an hour ago. How his skillful hand gripped the wheel, how his thighs flexed as he controlled the gas pedal or how he kept his jaw clenched and eyes focused on the foggy road with a stern yet soft, ‘hold on tight’ when he sped up before drifting for the hundredth time.

The ‘whoo-hoo’s and applause from both of your racer friends and their partners was a bonus — and him winning first place made you want him to do every sinful thing to you.

You want Jungkook so bad all over your skin. Want him to kiss you, want him to bite on your skin, bruise you with weeks-lasting love bites. You can’t just fathom the need that’s circulating through your blood.

A soft squeeze on your ankle makes your thoughts focus on Jungkook again, who is staring at you with need and desire. “Speak up, baby. Need to know what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours,” he taunts.

“You’ll do what I want?” Your voice is barely audible for you, airy with lust. You’re feeling the wetness of your own cunt between your thighs and you’re one-hundred percent sure Jungkook can spot the dark spot on your panties beneath your skirt.

Jungkook just gives you an eager nod.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he whispers while leaning to give you a soft but calculated peck on your lips. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.” He sounds so confident, smirking against your lips when your breathy whimper surfaces out.

Jungkook always likes being on top. He makes weird excuses saying he wants to see how pretty you are when you break under him. He’s just whipped to see you in pleasure, fighting to fill your lungs with air and crying when you cum.

“Wa-want you to touch me.” You don’t like how your voice cracks, making Jungkook’s stupid smirk grow more. You’re so pathetic when you’re horny.

You hate it. He loves it.

“Touch you where?” he asks, coaxing his head a little. Oh, so, he’s teasing?

“Jeon, please.” You blink, your throat drying up without even getting started. “Need you s’much, I want to feel you!” Your voice raises to a higher pitch.

Jungkook thinks you’re very lucky he is way too needy or it’s would have ended up making you cry just by torturing and teasing. So, Jungkook pushes your legs further apart, making himself much more comfortable.

“Gonna start all the way from here.” He presses his finger against your covered clit, adding pressure. Your legs twitch, almost closing but his body stills you. “How about that?”

You just give him a weak nod, too overwhelmed from the sudden touch against your sensitive spot.

Jungkook starts to slide up and down your clothed pussy, making your panties grind against your folds, his index finger now coated with your arousal. “Words, pretty girl.”

You mewl when he adds even more pressure.

“Yes, please,” you moan, head falling back against your pillow.

Jungkook swallows the urge to just undress you and fuck you sensless. He needs to get you ready so he won’t hurt you. But mostly, he wants to taste you first. And so, your boyfriend removes his jacket from his body and tosses it somewhere across the room.

Latching his fingers from your sex, making you cry and annoyed with the sudden disappearance of his touch and your pleasure. “This needs to go.” He runs his fingers to your hips before he tugs your panties and skirt down to your ankle, chuckling when you quickly push them off, before tossing them aside by yourself.

“Easy, baby. I’m not going anywhere without making you cum,” he states, getting back to where he left you.

This time he doesn’t tease you, he just keeps your gaze locked with his as he settles himself between your legs on his stomach and drapes your left leg on his shoulder. He pushes your other leg further before pinning it with his strong grip.

You take a deep breath, ready to be blown to the sky and see the stars he wants you to. He starts kissing your inner thigh, his eyes still locked with yours.

“Jeon,” you threaten, wanting him to stop his silly games and finally go down on you. But your boyfriend just giggles, eyes squinting and brow piercing twitching.

“But it’s so fun to see you like this,” he persists, making your chest tighten with impatience.

��I swear, Jun— aah!” Your threat is short-lived when Jungkook wraps his lips around your pearl, making you jolt forward and almost sit up.

Starting off gently, his wet muscle just presses against your clit, not moving but just letting his saliva smear and trail its way to your pussy.

“Hmm, move.” You don’t understand why he won’t listen to you. He asked what you wanted and now that you’ve told him, he decides to pull this stunt?

Jungkook just watches you with a knitted brows, his jaw tensing from the position he’s set now. He decides it’s enough and starts to move his tongue in an ‘eight’ motion. You spread your thighs wider, silently begging for him to give you the pleasure you want.

He leans back, admiring how your slit leaks. You prop up by your elbows and your cheeks start to heat up when Jungkook just stares at your sex.

“No,” he says when you start to close your legs, feeling shy all over again. “Keep ‘em open.” He brings his index and middle to your folds before parting them, exposing your cunt to him.

“You’re staring weird!” You try to defend, attempting to swing your legs off his shoulders but he’s fast enough to roughly pull you back by your ankle and pin the other back.

“No. I'm admiring what’s mine.”

His words reach your ears and it makes you mentally roll your eyes. You want to play who-said-so but you also don’t want to end up being left without a blinding orgasm pending.

“Kook, please, that’s enoug–” You can’t even finish your words again when he’s back at your leaking sex. Rougher, more eager.

“Oh, God.” Your back arches, making Jungkook’s suction on your pussy disrupt which causes him to groan. You swear you can see the stars on the back of your eyelids now. He roughly pushes your body down by your pelvis and huffs a ‘stay still’ before grinding his nose into your sensitive folds.

Jungkook makes his way down to your slit, his tongue circling your tight hole. Your short but deep breath has his dick twitching under his leather pants, making the fabric even tighter than it is.

“Yes, yes! Yes, please, Kook.” Your gasping voice only makes it harder for him. His hand, the one that was pinning your leg to the bed, slides down to palm himself.

“Mhm.” He moans to your cunt and you cry out, your fingers tangled in your hair, trying to distract yourself from the sudden stimulation but it ends with you giving yourself even more pleasure.

He brings his hand from his pants right back to your sopping sex, fingers replacing what he couldn’t get in his mouth, sucking and fucking you both with his skillful mouth and finger.

This is extreme, everything becomes too much. More than what you can take. “Jungkook,” you sigh, throat drying up much more and only silent mewls leaving your lips.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, middle finger circling your entrance. “This all you wanted or still want more?” He’s so good with his words, it makes you cave.

You sound so brittle when you speak and Jungkook bites his lips to sustain the moan. “You’re gonna give up on me, baby?” he asks, making your nipple ache underneath your bra. “I haven’t fucked you probably yet and you’re gonna pass out?” It’s like he’s boo-ing you.

“N-no.” You try to catch your breath.

“No?”

“No.”

Jungkook grins, he’s gonna fuck you up.

Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes to digits at once. “That’s it, yeaaah.” He places a kiss on your nub as a reward, and it is indeed a reward.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” Your voice is sharp and thin when you cry, tears filling your waterline and rolling down your temples. “Kook!” you cry out when he’s knuckles deep like he’s searching for something that’s his.

“You can take it, they’re just my fingers.” You’re in the middle of losing your life and he says that. For fucks sake. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Jungkook interjects and starts moving his fingers. He pulls them out to the tip of his fingers then pushes them back deep to the hilt.

“Shoulda brought the vibrator today,” he gruffly says and if it wasn’t for his fingers buried in you, you would have given him a sassy eye roll. “Wish you could see your face, you’re so pretty.” He leans in again, giving your pussy a wet smooch so loud that it fills the room with a wet kissing sound.

Nothing like this was planned today but now look at you, under him, withering away.

Your hands shake as you try to find anything to hold on to that could help you brace yourself from the orgasm that’s approaching you. “Jung— Jungko…?!” You’re wailing at this point, crying and yelling at the same time.

Jungkook’s nose flares as his hand picks up its pace, making a ‘come here’ motion that has you on edge. “You’re gonna cum,” he tells you as if it’s not obvious, helping you by securing your shaking hand and bringing it to his hair. “Hold on to me.”

He’s going to fucking kill you.

“I’m gonna… I’m gon— hgnh!” you grunt, eyes screwed shut and pulling on Jungkook’s locks. “I’m here, hold on to me.” If it wasn’t for your own boyfriend cradling your legs and restraining them, you would’ve kicked him in his face and bruised him badly.

Your lungs tighten once again and stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm washes over you.

The worst part is — Jungkook hasn't pulled his fingers out yet. “No, please, Jungkook, it's too much!” You try to sit up, hands leaving his hair and wrapping around his wrist.

“Jungkook, I just came, it’s too much. I can’t.”

But your whines fall upon deaf ears.

“One more.” He is determined to pull one more out of you but you just shake your head. “Please, baby, one more and then I’ll stop.”

You moan when he repeatedly curls his fingers in your pussy and something inexplicable in you bubbles this time. Nothing like before.

“Stop, wait…” Your sweaty fingers on Jungkook’s wrist try to remove his hand from your aching cunt but he just shoves your hand away from him. And that reminds you how you almost forget that he is much stronger than you.

“Stop pushing me away,” he grunts this time, finger fucking you tougher than he ever has. You’re practically shaking whole. “You asked for it, so take it—”

You can’t make out what he says after that, your ears ringing louder and eyes blinded by the orgasm that hits you.

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook moans, keeping his hand buried inside you, slowing his pace when you cum. You’re not aware of anything until he pulls them out of you.

“Didn’t know you could do that.” He ogles at his shining fingers, your arousal drenching his fingers down to his knuckle and making a mini pool in his palm.

It takes you a hot solid minute for your eyes to clear, tears subsiding and now hearing what’s around you neat. You prop on your elbows and watch his doe eyes stare at his fingers then back at you before chuckling, truly amazed.

“You squirted all over me, baby.” You can’t help but give him a broken smile. “And I did that,” he adds, proud that he caused this mess.

“Looks like a fucking champagne confetti.” With your silence taking over again and your whole face and chest burning, your boyfriend shows you his hand as if you don’t believe him. “You don’t believe me? Look.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks warming up once again. “Kook, stop!” you whine and his laugh echoes through your bedroom wall.

Right after you both subside from your laughs, you watch Jungkook bring your skirt from the floor and wipe the mess you made — your slick nectar all over his nose to his chin. Even on the ends of his dark bangs, causing a few strands to stick to his forehead.

Once he’s down, your boyfriend lifts himself up and you can’t help but notice the bulge under his leather pants. You start to shift your spot from the bed but stop when you hear him ask, “What’re you doing?”

You don’t speak much, glancing down to the tent below his pelvis. “It’s fine, you should rest.” He smiles, leaning and touching your cheek stained with dried up tears.

“But—”

Jungkook just shakes his head. “It’s fine, princess, I’ll go take a shower and deal with it.”

You frown, get up from the bed and rise to your feet before you wiggle yourself out of your top. You catch Jungkook staring at you shamelessly.

“You know, I’m so lucky to have you.” He starts to pull his cum-drenched shirt from his body. “You’re so fucking pretty and sexy, it’s crazy.” Jungkook admits he just fell in love all over again when he sees you like this — bare and naked in front of him.

“Let’s go shower.” You stick your hand out for him to take and he happily intertwines his fingers with yours before tugging you into the bathroom, you giggling like an idiot and Jungkook grinning like a moron.

And well, let’s just say, the night didn’t end like that, with a simple shower, but an intense fuck session under the shower’s faucet.

© busanboykoo — 031023 | thank you for reading!

[honeynclove]

twst pokemon teams - diasomnia

Lilia’s Noivern isn’t cropped properly don’t point it out or I might cry… same as ignihyde I can’t form new coherent thoughts so u guys r getting my Pinterest thoughts from when I first made these

lilia vanrouge

thoughts: original idea was fairy/dark types with the exception of the bat pkmn, but sneasler i added bc hisuian pkmn r a few milenia old just like lils <3 and after that i just lost the theming lmao, most of what i picked was based on vibes alone and i think they fit fairly well?

sebek zigvolt

thoughts: ELLLEEETRIC POKEMONNNN. also i think lilia gave him a toxel as a kid ☝️☝️ i made a note to give first years unevolved pkmn EXCEPT for Sebek bc i think hed be training since a kid n Ortho bc hes not human and can get away w it. him n silver’s pkmn playfully fight all the time n sebek gets onto em for it

silver

thoughts: i didnt have a specific typing in mind, my thoughts were just what pre evo pokemon could i see him befriending in the woods as a child and just went with that. Tho, with Corviknight i picked because of the knight theming, and Shiny Sylveon (my fav pkmn!!!) bc it reminded me of Aurora’s dress in Sleeping Beauty, and Galarian Rapidash because Silver’s in the equestrian club (and im saving reg rapidash for another character) I specifically see his sylveon as his ace pkmn and it would be common to see them walking around w the sylveon’s feelers wrapped around his arm in case he falls asleep at a poor time + imagined his whole team snuggling with him if he’d fall asleep in a safe area/guarding him in a less safe one. Idk. Also his team all really likes Lilia and Malleus too <3 Except for his Sylveon Whom Just Glares at the Big dragon Man 😭

malleus draconia

thoughts: dragon types 👍

[ambcass]

ᴛᴇxᴛ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʙʏ || ᴊᴀɪᴍᴇ ʀᴇʏᴇꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

a/n: thank you all for your requests! A lot of the fic is in my drafts rn but I can squeeze in a few more. if u see this, feel free to request smth :) THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC

MDNI! DEAD DOVES DON'T EAT

tags: Yandere! Jaime, swearing, female reader, helpless reader, kidnapping, angst, fluff if you squint your eyes, obsessive praise (if that makes sense), drugging, needles, fight scenes, knife, blood, PET NAMES USED (babe, baby, good girl, pretty, ect.) NO HAPPY ENDING😊. OUT OF CHARACTER BEHAVIOR

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Jaime loves you so much. He tells you every day how much he can't live without you being in his life. He clings to you like a lost puppy. Following you where ever you're headed. He tries to calm down when you're talking to another guy. Hell, he hates it even more when that guy you're talking to is one of his friends. After your conversation with Bart ended, Jaime walked up to you two and asked you to wait as he pulled Bart aside before coming back. Ever since Bart doesn't speak a word towards you. You obviously knew your boyfriend had something to do with it.

Later that night you guys had an argument. Like all arguments, he says things like “you wouldn’t leave me if you didn’t care.” , “Where’s the old you”, “C’mon my love, don’t act like this.” You always stayed. He said you were the problem and you believed him. You wanted to change, just for him. Not last night though. He sang the same song but you took it from a different approach. You spoke about possessive he’s been acting but he says that “it’s for your own good.”

You stormed out his house with so much frustration flowing through your body. Should of waited until the morning. You walked out his home and into the cold, dark night. Suddenly your phone kept buzzing. You opened it and it’s Jaime begging you to come back. Pleading you to not leave him but you don’t answer.

My Beetle💙: Eres tan dramatica! (You’re so dramatic) You know I just wnat the best for you… please baby text me back❤️

you ignored him. A few minutes later, your phone rings again.

My Beetle💙: I miss you bebe.

ignored again. At this point you were back home, lying on your bed. It got hot, really hot, but you had no AC nor a fan. Best idea you came up was to open your windows, wide. The air ran through your hair like a Disney princess singing a love song. Once more, your phone rings. This time you took a peak at the message.

My Beetle💙: Stop being for difficult for me. Don’t make me get you myself.

You didn’t think much into it. He has never physically hurt you. So you ignored it and went to sleep. What a mistake you made.

You next woke up to beeping and metal softly clashing to each other. Slowly opening your eyes, a head of dark blue and bright, glowing yellow eyes stared at you. You were about to scream for help but this figure covered your mouth and nose with a piece of cloth. You kicked its stomach, rolled out your bed, and ran straight for the door. Before could run out, you turned back around to glance at your bed. He disappeared from your view and nowhere to be seen

I can run now, you thought. You turned back to the door and POW. A punch directly to the face. You fell to the ground. You, knocked up, on the cold bare floor. Your vision was blurry but you felt two fingers pulled your eyelids down to close them. Before you were completely out, you felt yourself being dragged by foot off to somewhere.

Once you woke up and your vision was starting to clear up, it didn’t take you a long time to realize that you were tied up to a chair in an empty room. You tried breaking free but the ropes were too tight. You shouted,

“Help me! Someone please…” Foot steps slowly creeped behind you. That gradually got louder and louder, until they stopped. You felt a presence lean behind you. Then a tip of a knife was then placed right beside your lip.

“Nu uh. Don’t speak sweetheart, unless you want me to carve this pretty little mouth into pieces” This tender, chilling voice could only belong to one person.

“J-jaime!?” Before you knew it, your cheek to slashed. You didn’t scream but you cried. Cried like a little baby with blood oozing out of you and dripping on the floor. Jaime circled around you until you met your gaze. He lifted your chin.

“Let’s take a look at you, shall we?” He pulled out a white paper napkin and started to wipe the dripping blood from your cheek. “Isn’t that much better, mi amor?” Tears were flooding down your eyes. You had so many emotions packed up but you knew you couldn’t show them. The consequences may cost your life.

He whipped out another napkin and wiped your tears for you. “It’s okay pretty, you’re safe with me…” he wrapped your head around his arms and held you close to him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jaime lets go. The blood on your cheek stained on to his shirt. He bends down and kisses your wounded cheek.

“Well, my sweet girl didn’t want to listen to me. She didn’t understand how much I wanted to protect her. She insisted on talking to some other guy but me-“ you cut him off before he could finish.

“He’s your best friend! And I’ve known him longer than you did. I don’t know why-“ you tried to prove your point but he slapped you for cutting him off. Left a red handprint on your face.

“You need to learn how to be a good girl for me,” Jaime said in heartless tone. “So the two of us will just spend some quality’s time with each other. For a very long time.” He smirked when he saw you shake your head nonstop. He had the apprehend here. He had full control of you now. He pulled out a needle with some type of drug in it.

“Please Jaime, I’m sorry. I’ll never talk to any guy but you. Don’t do this, I love you.” You pleaded him to stop but he doesn’t. He slowly circled behind you. He brushed his fingertips starting with your head to your arms. He moved your hair aside and kissed your neck softly. You were so focused on this caring side of him, you failed to notice the fact that he was injecting that needle into your immune system. You got tired. Very tired. Your eyesight slowly blurred up as you fluttered eyes more frequently.

“You’ll be good as new when you wake up, I promise” was the last thing you heard from Jaime before it was all black. Last thing your own conscious heard and felt anything.

[doctorobrt]

haii !! could u do maybe william n reader(maybe gn reader ?:3) have a sleepover even tho theyre adults ? like they do silly sleepover activities like building a fort, watching movies, face masks, etc :3

Hey! I can absolutely do that for you lovely, I might add my own kind of twist onto it if that's alright with you! I'll keep both Will and the reader at around 20 years old, it's kind of that age where you still enjoy silly things meant for teenagers but also get embarrassed by them so you prefer to call sleepovers 'hangouts'..

This is quite long I believe, so sorry in advance.

College Student William Afton x College Student GN Reader

Being an adult had its perks, going to concerts or buying a house - if you really felt the need. There wasn't a huge amount of things to do compared to that of being a teenager, and to be frank, life just seemed all a bit more serious now.

Given the bigger responsibilities and need to pay for yourself, the joy seemed to be sucked from all of the things you used to find amusing as a careless teenager. College wasn't dreadful though, you got to see your friends and spend time away from the house and your parents. The subject you chose however... if there was one thing that could bore you into a coma, it would be maths.

The day had dragged and Mr. Wilson seemed more stringent than ever. He had requested the floors be redone in his classroom after the incident earlier in the year which left him toppled over, face first on the floor. Since that day, he had taken strict action by adding heaps of oil to the hinges of the door and making sure he arrived an hour earlier in mind of rush hour traffic.

This had clearly taken a toll on him as he lay slouched in his drab leather chair, snoring sonorously whilst armies of heavy raindrops tapped against the windows.

After a long, long wait for the clock to hit 4pm, you bundled all of the pens and paper from the desk into your bag before making an anticipated beeline for the college doors. It was short lived relief however, as the bus wasn't in it's normal parking spot. Due to the weather, and state of the poor old vehicle, it was going to take another 25 minutes for it to fight through the dismal downpour.

Home was too far of a walk in this weather and the thought of calling your parents home from work to pick you up was just as threatening.

The world seemed unnaturally dark, as if the light had been drained from the sky replaced by dark, gloomy clouds massing above your head. Rain tumbled down a great deal heavier than earlier, the small bus shelter was beginning to feel over crowded and the pungent smell of sweat had become rather noxious to inhale.

Huffing audibly to yourself and accepting the nauseating fate, you stood in the cramped bus shelter and tolerated it. That was until an obnoxiously loud blare of a car horn and beckoned you over. It was William, he had stayed on longer to discuss a project he'd been working on with the technicians teacher. What a little life saver!

Rapidly checking both sides of the road, you bolted over to his cherry red Ford Consul Capri, very classy if you do say so yourself, and slammed the door shut before the pelting rain could ruin the polished leather seats.

"Bloody hell you are a god send mate" You panted whilst wiping strands of soggy hair from your forehead.

"I wasn't beeping for you to come over love." He responded as his brows furrowed at your presence.

Oh. No. How utterly embarrassing. Your jaw hung open in disbelief as rose pigment stung your cheeks.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I'll wait for the bus." You stammered in humiliation. His gaze was scrutinising, you couldn't bare to return the eye contact.

"Nah I'm pulling your leg mate." He goaded whilst grinning mischievously, "The look on your face though, class."

"Knobhead"

"Right. If you're free we can head back to mine, Mum and Dad went to Switzerland yesterday so the house is completely empty."

"Alright ace, I'll come and keep you from being lonely you little man child." You teased back, "Joking! Joking. Please don't leave me out in the rain like a little sodden mouse."

He sighed and rolled his eyes before starting up the pristine car to head back home.

William lived in a posh area of the village, although his house wasn't overly showy or obnoxious like the others. His parents were owners of a large mechanics dealership in London so he was loaded, but he wouldn't gloat his wealth.

A few more turns, after a very much appreciated twenty minute drive, and you pulled up on a gravel driveway. The pair of you grabbed your bags and sprinted to the front door as the rain picked up and cracks of thunder boomed in the gloomy horizon.

"Hurry up and open that door!" You shrieked just as the crooked gutter snapped and drenched you head to toe in grimy rain water - Not Will though, he hogged the porch.

As soon as the heavy wooden door swung open, you lunged into the front room. It'd be the respectful deed to compliment the house, albeit overridden by organised clutter, but the sludge dripping into your eye was truly the top of your concerns.

"Don't laugh, I can literally see you snickering."

William was wide eyed and speechless, the urge to laugh was becoming overwhelming at this point. He signalled to the room at the bottom of the lengthy hallway and welcomed you to use the bath, the offer was too good to resist, so you grabbed your dripping wet bag and shivered all the way down the corridor, slamming the door shut and immediately twisting the hot tap onto full power.

"I've got some tea here waiting," William announced faintly, "Oh, and I got scrabble out too if you want to play?"

"Alright then, I'll hop out when I finish washing my hair."

"I left some of my old pyjamas outside for you too." He replied hesitantly, "I'll be in the lounge."

Climbing out of the lukewarm water, you grabbed a towel from the radiator and patted yourself down. The door creaked open slightly as you turned the handle, allowing space for your hand to slip through and take the white button down pjs from the mat outside.

"I'll be over now," You called down the hall, "Give me a second!"

You snatched a pair of navy slippers from the shoe rack and made your way into the dimly lit living room.

"Cor it's nice and warm in here."

"Your tea's going cold mind." He nodded to the sofa opposite of him, "Sit on that one over there if we're playing scrabble."

Perching on the edge of the leather settee, you picked out seven tiles from the green drawstring pouch and set them onto the wooden stand.

"Are you kidding me?" William leant back in his chair and scoffed, "Right, you first."

Squinting at the seven letters before you, you reorganised them into many different sequences. D, I, Z, O, I, X, E. Doze... no, Doe.. too short, iodize..? Suddenly, you visualised a word which used all of the tiles and scrambled them into place.

"Oh mate get ready for this." You slid the stand onto the board with a smirk spread across your face. Slowly, you arranged the word 'Oxidize' onto the beginning squares. "Twenty one, twenty two... only twenty four points for that, but add on the fifty for the seven letters and that takes it up to... 74!"

"You cheater you have a dictionary." He accused in envy of the high score whilst jotting it down on a scrap of paper.

"Do not! Your turn now, lets see your scrabble skill."

Rolling his eyes and picking up a single tile from the stand in front of him, he placed a measly O beneath the D.

"Oh dear..." You chuckled into your fist, "Vowels?"

He shot you a cruel glare and confirmed your query with a quick nod. The game continued on for half an hour until the competitive nature became increasingly tiring, especially since William kept placing an S after all of your words, so you got up and clambered into the space beside him.

"We haven't eaten yet."

"I think there's a pot of beef stew in the fridge." He answered defeatedly, "Or we can listen to my dad's vinyl instead?"

Food sounded perfect, but knowing William's family he probably owned some of the latest LPs released by the biggest artists around right now.

"Alright then you lazy cow, how about we listen to some vinyl then?" You returned a grin and made your way over to the fancy box of LPs adjacent to the shiny, high tech record player.

The selection inside was truly magnificent, The Supremes album 'Meet The Supremes', The Rolling Stones debut record, 'Surfin' USA' from the Beach Boys followed by a dozen Chuck Berry sleeves. This was like a dream come true.

After a brief while of overthinking your choice, you picked out The Beatles' latest album 'A Hard Day's Night' and carefully placed it atop the platter, mindful of its mint condition, and flicked the plug socket on. Soon enough the record began spinning around, so, you picked up the needle and gently positioned it onto the lead in groove.

It crackled faintly before crashing into the first song, the fast paced melody was joyfully upbeat - perfect for dancing. You smiled to yourself, overjoyed with emotions, before turning your attention back to William. He watched on fondly as you tapped your foot to the tune, occasionally out of time but nonetheless you were enjoying yourself.

"Come on then!" You desperately encouraged him to join in, tugging the sleeve of his shirt.

He latched his hands into the warm hold of yours and moved them hastily up and down, over and over in an attempt of dancing until the song faded out. As the next began to play, a dreadful clatter reverberated around the room.

"Oh dear, it's never done that before." Tilting his head at the needle, he took a cloth from the side table to clean the end of the cartridge. Carefully placing it onto the following track, he rose onto his feet and stepped backwards. The soft crackle returned and a delicate symphony of voices and instruments chimed from the speakers.

'If I fell in love with you Would you promise to be true'

"Suiting song." You jested and prodded his chest with a finger.

Chuckling at your playful gesture, he took a hold of your hands once more - this time, however, he moved them rather languidly. The storm outside worsened and the crashing bolts of lightning echoed through the town formidably. Swaying in each others arms, the soothing rhythm lulled the both of you into a state of bliss.

'And I found that love was more, than just holding hands.'

He rose his arm above your head, motioning you to twirl around whilst humming along to the song. Melting back into his frame, you followed his steps and chortled as he tripped over the carpet. The both of you smiled at one another as the chorus of instruments soothed to an end.

'When she learns we are two If I fell in love with you...'

~

A/N - Oh my gosh... This took way too long. It definitely isn't my favourite fic ever but I always put a lot of effort into researching the year I write about so it doubled the time it should've taken by like a million years ugh. If you didn't know, I tried to set it in late July 1964 hence A Hard Day's Night being the latest record Will has - He's totally a Rolling Stones over The Beatles kind of guy though. I hope you enjoyed this xxx oh and thank you for being so patient holy moly

[haomnyangz]

i dont think ive ever talked abt this here but forever obsessed w/ the difference in aerrow vs carver fights 1x01 nd 2x08

like in 1x01 aerrow has literally just been knighted and has never fought in a one on one Real Fight which shows by the way hes just yeeting himself on the offensive like the child has no concept of Defense in that fight hes just angry

and hes still angry in 2x08 but hes not letting it make him reckless all his movements r Calculated and Seasoned and also way more defensive which is expected since he fought A Lot in between these episodes

and ALSO he can only do his fancy little move in 1x01 bc carver pisses him off but 2x08 hes just doing it for the drama of it all for the cameras dahling

its good choreography choices brent

[shanksbaby]

kiwi anon here <3 youre my favorite blog :) may i request one piece men reacting to their s/o getting life threatening wounds after a fight? please and thank you! love u and ur writings :] please eat and drink regularly <333

hello! thank u so much love ya <3 <3

Vinsmoke Sanji

-if something happened to you during a fight with an enemy, he would never forgive himself, the image of you lying on the ground full of bruises and blood would haunt him for life.

-after all he is your boyfriend and if he can't protect the dearest person in the world, then what man is he?

-boy, I don't want to be the enemy who made you like this. . . He won't care if he's male or female or any other gender, he'll destroy him like the enemy destroyed his dear Y \ N.

-he would stay by your side for the entire period of convalescence to tell you how sorry he is, even if you told him for the millionth time that it was not his fault, he will become your doctor, systematically checking you for worsening.

-he will cook your favorite dishes for you, forcing you to eat when you don't feel like pain, and give you the medicines Chopper gave him, tell you about the adventures of the boys while you lie in bed, and hold you tight during the night but not too much for don't hurt yourself because he wants to feel you're still there with him.

-when you have finished your period of convalescence, it will follow you step by step so that you do not make the slightest effort.

Portgas D. Ace

-he is the king of guilt given his story, if you then add that you hurt yourself badly to save him, it would be devastating for him.

-being a very impulsive type, he would not think much about the strength of the enemy in front of him, he would just act, trying to kill him to avenge you, and since it is you, he would lack any glimmer of clarity with the risk of getting hurt too.

-he would not rest for a very long time, with the memory of you on the ground full of blood, with the breath that seemed to vanish shortly thereafter, and therefore he would lock himself in his room, and from time to time he goes to the infirmary to see how you are.Obviously not being seen by you.

-you will obviously ask for him, but your mates will make up stupid excuses to justify his absence, but you are okay with it because you know Ace and you know his timing: he must first forgive himself.

-eventually he shows himself to you, with a dark and lowered look without meeting your eyes, and the first thing he does is hug you tightly and whisper to you that he will never allow such a thing to happen to you again.

Ronoroa Zoro

-he is the one who would take it more rationally of the three, certainly he would still feel guilty, but he would always try to calm down because he knows that he could compromise his judgment in the fight and could hurt himself and consequently could also risk your life.

-he would order someone from his crew to take you away immediately to heal you and because your body would distract him.

-they always said he's got the spirit of a real killer and he's scary, and oh boy. . . his spirit of him pours all over the enemy, he can't get away with it after having reduced you to that state, he would become much more violent but still maintain his lucidity.

-in your recovery period, he would train until he fainted, you hurt yourself because he is still weak, the two years with Mihawk did not help to protect you. . . However, he would visit often, and ask Chopper for various information about your health.

-after you are healed he would ask you to train together so you can be able to defend yourself too, and he would feel safer. He would help you learn the art of the sword and buy you one.

[pure-kirarin]

Slow & Steady [P2] [Sabo x f!reader] (+18)

Genre : Romance - Smut - Bestfriends to lovers General warnings : Alcohol consumption - Dark themes - Swearing - S m u t - possessiveness - Mention of ex-relationships - jealousy

A/N : This is really different from my usual writing style but I am experimenting. Please tell me your thoughts and don’t hesitate to ask to be added to the tag list :) AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31877203?view_full_work=true

In the last chapter --  «-Enough playing now, you're going to sleep. -B-but ! This wasn't what I asked for....You're really a coward after all...You virgin... » He carried you to his room, putting you on the bed and sitting next to you. «-I'd love to prove you wrong. However, it would be better if you were in a state where you'd be able to recall how good I am. If you want me to fuck you this badly then maybe ask me when you're sober.

Part I - Part II

Part II  -Yeah yeah...Pff..You're no fun Sabo. Things were finally getting interesting ! »

He smiled seeing that you were now calmer. You started to yawn and bury your face in his pillow. He loved to see you getting so comfortable in his room. He really needed a cold shower after your little show.  -Goodnight (Y/N). I'll sleep on the couch. You can get comfortable. -Are you crazyy ? You gonna leave me alone like this ? Let's sleep together~ -Come on (Y/N), you're a big girl. You could sleep alone for one night, would you ? Translation : I don't want to spend the whole night with a semi. And you're dangerously flirty, and I have wanted you for years and now I have to abstain.

-Pleaaaase. You said looking at him with puppy eyes. He rolled his eyes placing a hand in his hair. God.damn.it.

You won again. Like every time. * * *  You opened your eyes hardly next day, feeling something hard against your thigh. You looked at the ceiling

Oh...I am not in my room...Where the fuck am I ?

you turn around only to discover the embodiment of Adonis to your side. A light beam was lighting up Sabo's face. He looked like an angel as his beauty couldn't be that of a human.

Was he always this handsome ?

You didn't know, in fact, you have never had the occasion to wake up in his bed. Wait, in his bed ? This realization came slowly as your head was still foggy from yesterday's consumption.

You looked down, the thing that was pressing against your leg was indeed :

his thing.

You frowned, blushed, pulled away, put a hand on your lips repressing an internal scream, all of this in around three seconds. You then tried to calm down, telling yourself that it was very normal for a man to experience this kind of morning unconviniences, and that Sabo was a man, after all. Even if  you have always seen him as a bestfriend, he was still a man that is capable of physical attraction.

Now that this internal monologue was done with, you felt a bit calmer, but that didn't answer your question. You got out of bed, trying to recall what happened after going in the bar. And it came back. All of it. Without any mercy for your feelings.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Your only wish was to disappear which meant : calling Nami. You headed out of the house, not even having the courage to face your bestfriend.

« Namiiiii -Uh ? What's the matter ? -I fucked up. I fucked up really bad. -Oh yeah ? Tell me about it. -Wait, why do you seem excited ? -O-oh I'm not excited. Come on tell me. What else could you have possibly done ? -I asked Sabo to fuck me. -Wait what ? You could hear Vivi ask Nami about what happened and her answering « She asked Sabo to fuck her ». -Nami ! Don't go on telling everyone about this. I'm on my way. -For starters, Vivi isn't « everyone », she's my girlfriend. And I'm here waiting for you to tell me what happened. -Wait, I'll come at your place. This can't be discussed over the phone. »

You hung up on her. Ten minutes later, you were at her place. Extremely confused. Nami was painting her nails bright red on the bed while Vivi was sitting comfortably on a chair. You let your whole body weight fall on a lounge pug, tourmented.  «-So tell me how you and Sabo ended up fucking. She emphasized the last word in a way that made you almost choke on air.  -We didn't actually. Nami and Vivi both sighed in a synchronized « Ah » of disappointment. -So hmm...I don't remember clearly. I was really drunk-- well that you're aware of and...And Sabo didn't want to leave me alone so we went to his place. Ace was at Thatch's so we were alone. We hugged and he comforted me. Then I started teasing him, and I don't know what I was thinking, but I kissed him, and then I asked him to fuck me. -Wow that escalated quickly. Said Nami as she continued painting her nails.

-Well, I was heartbroken, I needed something, someone, and he was there, and you know Sabo, he's a good guy ! I don't know what's worse, the fact that I asked him to fuck me or the fact that he said no.

-Oh god I'm so so sorry

- Nami please don't make things worse for me.

-No offense, but you're so dense. Sabo has always been into you. Do you want him, or do you not ? I know that going right into a relationship after a breakup is a bad idea. But honestly it's worth giving it a shot. He's a really good guy. Try dating someone nice for once.

-I don't know, he has something unsettling about him. Like « almost too good to be true » you know ? Added Vivi.

-Ohhh~ I see. Honestly, I always thought that he was a bit prude and hella vanilla. I mean, yes, he's my best friend. But he has never talked about girls to me or about sexual stuff. So I just assumed that. I never thought that he'd be packin' like that. You said as you popped a lollipop in your mouth.

-Ah ? Was it really that impressive ? asked Nami, genuinely curious.

-Yeah. On a scale from 0 to doflamingo he's a solid eight point seventy five. (*)

-Oh gosh. I understand why you're so worked up now.

-That's really...precise. Added Vivi, a bit horrified.

(*) [ The dear reader might need this clarification ; Doflamingo was Law's uncle, he sometimes came to pick him up after uni with his luxurious lamborghini. He wore extremely tight pants that left little to the imagination. And he was most known among your clique for having a nine incher. It was a running joke wether to know if Law got his uncle's genes. Needless to say that this joke wasn't to Law's taste. Now back to our adorable Y/N. ]

-So. I really don't know what to do. I am still heartbroken. -And horny. Added the ginger. -Yeah, that too. I'm afraid of ruining our friendship. -Listen dear, said Nami as she was closing the nail polish bottle, if you're not going for it, someone else would. And trust me, that girl Koala is upping her game. She's going to steal him right in front of your eyes, just like this - and she snapped her fingers. -Oh, and then, you can forget about being « best friends ». Said Vivi adding fuel to the fire. -Yeah, once he's gonna start dating, he won't have too much time for you-- and then, that Koala girl, my god, she seems extremely possessive ! -No way, your voice was detached, trying to act is if you weren't worried, Sabo has never dated any girl before.- -Yes but he seems to get along with that girl. And to be honest, she's kinda cute.

-Nami ! Vivi pinched her forearm playfully, pretending to be jealous.

-That hurt ! And don't be jealous, you know that you're my only one~

-Hmm...I prefer that. Vivi laughed. You started caughing reclaiming for their attention.

-Attention please ! We're discussing my dick-appointment here.

-Jesus you're really annoying, (Y/N), just go for it already.

-How much did he pay you to tell me this huh ?

-What ? He didn't pay me ! You're just always getting your heart broken. I'm just trying to be a good friend.

-Say that you are trying to get rid of her~ Jokes Vivi.

-Vivi, don't expose me like this- Nami plays along while laughing.

-I hate you girls ! You say as you throw a pillow on Nami. The ginger starts complaining that you messed her Nail polish, and the whole scene metamorphosed into a pillow fight.

* * *

You spent the whole day with the girls, chit-chatting about boys and girls and playing stupid games. You felt way more comfortable now, less ashamed. However, you were surprised because you didn't get a message from your bestfriend. You wondered wether he was mad at you, it wasn't in his habits.

You decided to message Ace [click for conversation] [ (Y/N) : Heyy amigo is Sabo ok ? Did he tell u smth abt yesterday ? Ace : Ouch, your hurting my feelings, </3 Only talking to me to ask about my brother~ Yea hes okay why tho ? (Y/N) : Ooo kay. He's home ? Ace : He is. Why don't u directly text him ? (Y/N) : Don't tell him I asked. Btw I didn't forget about those 10 bucks you « borrowed » from me. Give it back.] He didn't answer. You sighed and decided to go see Sabo to settle things down. It was the first time that you were embarrassed to see your best friend. You dressed up in a black skirt and t shirt. You didn't usually pay attention to your looks when you went to hang out at Sabo's, but you were really stressed out and what the girls have said about Koala made you scared of losing him. After all, you had some abandonment issues. You had to settle this down once and forever. You arrived at the guy's place, it was an apartment not so far from your own student flat. You knocked on the door and Ace opened : -Ohhh, (Y/N), he whistles, lookin' like a girl today huh ? -What are you implying you dumbass ? Where's Sabo ? -He's in his room with Koala.- -Wait what ? Koala ? What is she doing here ? Ace raised an eyebrow then said amused ; -I don't know, go ask him yourself. -You're useless as usual. -Always so sweet. You on your period or something ? -I didn't forget about my twenty bucks by the way. -I said I'm goin' to pay you back alright ? Now go talk to Sabo. You and Ace were always teasing each other in a brotherly way, but in reality, he really cared for you, it was just your usual way of communication. But it was true that knowing that Koala was in Sabo's room put you in a bad mood. You knocked on the door with a knot in your stomach. Did they start dating ? Was Sabo interested in her ? These ideas were torturing you. But why did you care anyways ? It was none of your business. He could date whoever he wants. You opened the door but there was only Sabo relaxing on his bed, still fully clothed. « - Sabo ?-Oh, (Y/N), what brings you here ? -Why ? Do I need a reason to see my best friend ? He sits on bed looking at you. He doesn't fail to notice your cute outfit, it was different from your usual sweatpants and hoodies, the way it complemented your figure was almost too much for him. Just that sight was driving him insane, but his face didn't betray his emotions, like always, he acted friendly, not an ounce of lust in his dark ebony eyes. You took place next to him. He smelled good, you thought. The same fresh minty smell as last time. Did he always smell this good ? -(Y/N) ?Huh ? Is everything okay ? His voice seemed concerned.He cared for you. And you had those stupid immature and posessive thoughts. Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N), you thought. -Oh yea-- wasn't Koala here ? Ace told me you were with her.

You tried so hard to act like you didn't care, but he knew you like the back of his hand. But still, he played along. -Hmm..Yes. She just left. I was going out as well. He says with a sweet smile, looking at his watch. You couldn't help but make a disappointed face. -But Sabo I wanted to - I'm really sorry (Y/N), let's talk later. He ruffles your hair and you close your eyes as he does so. You felt stressed out. What happened exactly ? You felt intimidated in his presence for the first time. You wanted him to stay and talk this out. It was a bit awkward for you now. You never thought too much. As he was going out of the room you held the fabric of his coat tight in your hand ; -Sabo- -Hum ? Need me to drop you somewhere ? -N-no. You let his sleeve go, realizing what you have just done, I'll stay a bit then go back home. Don't worry about me. -Alright then. See you later ? -Yeah. See ya. ]

You looked at Sabo go away and you followed him shortly after. Meanwhile Ace was sitting on the couch and watching some movies. You went back home and was quite tormented. It wasn't the right time to worry as you had your assignments and studies to deal with. On one hand, you didn't even have the time to think of your ex boyfriend and his cheating but on the other, you felt like you were let down by Sabo. But why ? He didn't do anything. He just found himself a new friend and a potential new girlfriend.

He didn't even talk about her, but why where you so upset by him meeting her ? After all, he had the right to date just like you always did.

A few days have passed and you didn't get the chance to talk to Sabo. Your exams were getting closer and closer and you didn't feel ready.

Usually, Sabo would help you with your assignments but you were too scared to ask. You realized how much you relied on him and how he has been always there for you.

Who were you exactly to him ?

Maybe you took him for granted.

As you were on your bed looking at the ceiling and trying to collect every drop of motivation in your system to study, you heard your phone ring. It was Sabo's ringtone ! ----- Tag list : @vemuabhi @chloe-abbacchio @mwls-garden @soanywaysistartedsimping If you wanna get tagged just ask for it :)

[myonepiece]

Hello love! This is my first ask hehe. Can I please request some Shanks, Ace, and Benn headcanons (or scenerio, whichever u are more comfortable with!) of their fem!S/O dying on the battlefield? Love your works btw💕💕! Thanks in advance!! :)

yes 😩 death angst 😩

I will put this here... it’s Shanks, Ace, and Kid dying on the battle field and their last thoughts of s/o :3 just if you feel like crying more

I cried like 6 times writing these

TW- death, angst

Shanks, Ace, Benn seeing their fem!s/o die on the battlefield 

told in character’s point of view

-through the groups of pirates fighting, through all of the blood, through all of the smoke and sword clashes, how did I manage to see the exact moment a gun was held to your head and the trigger was pulled

-a spout of dark liquid came from your head that felt like it drowned even from so far away and so little in content

-you fell back onto the ground and the crew members that had seen the event looked to me, but I only turned away 

-when the fight was over I went back towards the boat I was grinning, because I wasn’t mad you had died

-some of the crew members however began to tear up, it was nice to see they cared so much about you as well

-Yasopp ran to me and grabbed my collar, I told him to let go, he didn’t seem to have the same outlook on your death

-if there’s one thing that was bothering me, it was the question of why I had to see your demise

-why... why had I been able to see that moment. I wish I hadn’t, I think I would have much rather lived in a blissful denial telling myself you were off on your own journey and you would return soon

-maybe I would’ve been better off telling myself you are somewhere in the world and I just have to find you

-I guess you are on your own voyage somewhere, maybe with another crew, maybe with another captain

-is it fun?

-you wanna know why I’m not crying, why I’m not breaking down like I always had thought I would?

-it’s because in the moment when I almost ran to you, when I. almost gave in and crashed to the floor, it was like I had heard an angel whisper to me- she said she’d keep you safe

-that you’ll be okay

-she said your time with me is over

-and I didn’t want to ruin your departure with my own selfishness

-I hope you’ve had a good time with me _____, I hope you’re as free as you were here

-Thatch brought me over to the crew after the battle, everyone is grouped in a circle, it’s almost like someone die- oh

-Marco was kneeling beside you with his hands on fire, but his powers didn’t seem to be working because you still weren’t moving

-you were already dead when I got there.. I couldn’t even say goodbye

-I scoffed in disbelief, anger, sadness-I don’t fucking know. Marco looked up at me with slightly teary eyes and he shook his head

-I choked out a sob and ran towards you, could you hear me? I took you in my arms and shook you because usually that works but you didn’t do anything. you felt so cold I tried to warm you up but maybe my emotions were too crazy because the flames burned you... could you feel that too?

-no one told me who killed you even when I pounced on Marco and threatened him, I swear I would’ve made him pay 

-Whitebeard pushed me away

-it’s fucked up world where the innocent ones like you are the ones to die first, when their are so many horrible people out there, maybe it was that you were too innocent, maybe you had to leave before that innocence was corrupted

-if that’s the case then I guess I should be thankful, but I can’t be

-I’m sorry I’m not all, “oh _____ is in a better place now” but you’re not in a better place!

-a better place would be with me! or maybe a better place would be with you. a better place is just wherever you and I are together, so where am I supposed to go when that place doesn’t even exist 

-y’know I always wanted you to die first so you wouldn’t have to go through the pain of my death, I just might have underestimated how painful this would be

-I’m not saying I would rather I die before you because I love you too much to put you through this.. or loved you? is that what I’m supposed to say now? why didn’t you just stick around long enough to tell me what to do?

-you never said “I’m leaving” and you never said “goodbye”, you left before I had the chance to tell you how much I love you and how much you’ve helped me

-but without you here it’s like none of that matters, like you gave up on me

-and for that, I hate you 

-usually when Shanks calls me over it’s not a very serious matter, and it’s usually not after a battle because he can his own

-but he called me over once the smoke was beginning to clear and something about the way he said my name made me unnerved

-you’re never ready to see someone you love dead, even when I’ve been a pirate for years it was... scary. maybe the fact that you were still breathing is what made it even scarier

-I didn’t want to tell you it would be okay, I’ve never liked lying to you. and you seemed to know it wasn’t okay. maybe it was the tears brimming in my eyes that told you the truth, maybe it was my shaking hold when I took you from Shanks’ arms and cradled you against my chest

-it all felt so slow, watching the crew walk away with their heads hanging low, the feeling of your hand grabbing mine

-I’ve always been... okay with words of love, but now I love you seems futile. I still said it though, I wonder if you heard it

-your eyes were wandering everywhere I wasn’t sure if you could comprehend. anything

-when your hand fell from my cheek I kissed your forehead one last time and layed down on the ground, I put my cape over you just in case it got cold, you always loved huddling in my cape 

-I think the hardest part of ‘moving on’ will be trying to recover the part of me you took

-it was like you added a second heart that only beat for you, but it’s not slowing  down, because I sure as hell still love you

-it’s just.. going to be a little while before we see each other again

-I know that there is nothing that could be done to save you, but I still have to wish you could have stayed

-I think the hardest part of this is that I know our story wasn’t finished 

[myelocin]

ij(y)&m | miya a., akaashi k.

synopsis: love is enough, until you think that it isn’t. to love and to lose; then whether to dive into the sea of ocean eyes or look into the skies in search of the sun.

genre: hurt/comfort, slice of life, longfic, happy ending, love triangle

wc: 17,500+

characters: miya atsumu, akaashi keiji

a/n: this is a commissioned piece by @23soong | i still can’t believe u trusted me w this giant fic but ilu i guezz

commissions | ko-fi

(April 16, 2021 | New York City.)

You like to eat cake.

The color lilac, ocean eyes, and the sky. The lyrics to Ayahuasca, and the hidden metaphors where the poem you uncover always looks like a different scenario than the next person. You know what you like, and it’s only this and that. Other days, when your reasoning is a little swayed, you suppose you can afford to think that you like this plus that.

It was a difference only you understood.

(—understand, you mean.)

(You always know what you understand.)

You like cake because you enjoy sweets, and that one shade of violet that borders right in between periwinkle and lilac, because it never looked like it was too much. It didn’t blend into the background like some of the warmer colors, nor make too much of a bold presence like the depth of scarlet. You suppose you like where you’ve always been, after all.

Being content with your own security had always been one of your stronger suits. There wasn’t a wall, nor a fortress around you, but even when you’re out in the open you felt okay. The shade in between lilac and periwinkle was enough because it was you.

Chocolate over cheesecake, because you’ve never been much of a fan, and that bakery down the end of street fifteen minutes away instead of the one right across where you lived. The windows were always tinted in the shade that gave away its age, but you suppose it was its charm. The old auntie who sits by the counter always wears her apron, even if all the pastries to be sold for the day were already prebaked and arranged on the front for display.

There’s an old comfort found in that auntie’s bakery, you think. You still don’t know her name, and you know she only smiles at you because you’re probably a regular by now. You know the pen she’d had clipped to her apron is the same one from eight months ago, probably never used, because the seal’s still intact by the cap. There wasn’t a table that you could call yours, nor a spot in the fall you would stare at and daydream on your rougher days. There was no music, to dull out the sounds of the world outside—but now that you actually give it a little more thought—that’s what gave you the most comfort.

It’s a known fact that when people tend to slip into a state of reclusion, they would search for a space in a world that they can cocoon themselves in. External factors, there, but ignored. Phone often switched to silent, where the spot they stared at along the cracks of the wall would show them a world they could live in—momentarily.

(And that was the problem—at least you think.)

A safe space, they say. And it had always been valid. When your sister would talk about the boy in her dreams who loved her under the rain, you can tell that she felt safe. Sometimes she looked a little farther away despite physically being with you in the moment, but she always looked warm—so you would just choose to sit shoulder to shoulder beside her, and let her be.

People worked differently; a simple this or that situation, and it’s always going to be like that.

Your comfort is just this.

Auntie’s bakery fifteen minutes away, where you’re some random seat inside because in all the years you’ve been coming here, you could never really pick a spot. The table by the window was nice, as was the one by the shelves. The AC hit you in the way you appreciate the most wherever you chose to settle, anyway.

A slice of chocolate cake on Mondays, then maybe again on Wednesdays, but Saturdays could also mean red velvet if you were feeling like it. The bells by the door sound out your entrance every time too, but even if one day there were gone, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Having a constant was okay, but not necessary. You’re here because you liked their selection better than the one closer to your place, and that was that.

Auntie’s bakery wasn’t your cocoon that kept you away from the world, but you liked it that way.

You found comfort in taking a seat in one of the ten tables inside, and setting your bag on the chair beside you as you got comfortable. You liked moving your hair to the other side, and slumping your shoulders because you know you'd enjoy this little break you decided to give yourself.

You had chocolate two days ago, and even if there was a new option for carrot cake today, you still bought chocolate again. You can hear the conversation from the group of teenagers outside the window every time the doors would open and the sounds of the world outside would filter in. The sound of traffic and life was dulled by the walls, but not muted. There’s still no music in the bakery, and you can sometimes hear every time the auntie behind the counter would shift and tap away at her phone.

This was your slice of comfort.

You didn’t escape the world, but you find yourself still. There was an underlying of connection that you found with the world when you’d have your one slice of cake after a job well done.

So you like to eat cake, because you deserve cake.

You finish the schedule you’d set for yourself, written in bullet points from top to bottom—additional notes scribbled in the margins so you wouldn’t forget, and spreadsheets written so that you keep yourself in line.

You like to eat cake, because it’s a reminder that you’re doing your part as a little cog in the machine that is this world. It’s not escaping that gives you comfort, but rather, the reminder that you’re still in this world, and you’re doing just fine.

(So you deserve your cake.)

-

Until some days where you feel like you don’t.

-

Your childhood looked something like this:

Air conditioned rooms, sniffling instead of crying, and the lilac blooms outside your window. There’s a sky, infinite as she’s always been, that watches. Sometimes she cries, but in your corner of the world, it’s more common to see her smile. Sometimes you wonder what she smiles about, but 7 year old you liked to think that she smiled for the same reasons you do.

A cool breeze in the summer, and paper kites folded every sunset. Your dreams of ocean eyes every time you’re close to the shore, as if it’s a foreshadow to the future still to come, but you’d always only stand by the edge and watch—never wading too far in.

It wasn’t a fear of the water, nor the depth, but you just always had a nagging thought behind your head that the waves would never truly be for you. You loved the sun, and the sky too much to give in to the waves.

Perhaps it’s a metaphor for something later on in life; perhaps it isn’t. You’ve never been curious enough to try to think much about it.

Ever since you were young, your idea of love never changed much from your initial thoughts.

Love felt like it should just be what’s written under the bullet points of your life schedule. Love, supposedly, looked like ocean eyes and dark roots for hair. He’d be a little more on the reserved side, and would conquer the world with you.

People always tell you that love should conquer the world for you, but it felt like too much of a selfish dream. Your whole life, you moved with a sense of purpose in mind. You buy cake after a job well done, because you know you’ll only deserve it by then. You do things only because you’ve done certain things, and it’s always been as black and white as that.

(It works.)

You’re in high school and you sit next to your best friend’s boyfriend from seven to five. You have a circle that loves you as much as you do them, and you still treat yourself to slices of chocolate cake from a bakery down the street. Their cake has a generic taste, you think, but it could be better.

Still, you settle. Settling is okay.

The idea that things would always be just okay in the black and white was okay. Your everyday life, and routine, looked like this. The people around you act like this, and you—in return, feel like this.

You laugh when things are funny, then cry when they aren’t. You appreciate the notes you’d find in your locker: the doodles and scribbled reminders alike. The difference in the handwriting and color choice of the sticky notes only reminds you that you’re part of something that isn’t just you.

You will always love your shade of lavender, or lilac, or periwinkle, but you found sentimentality and love in shades of peaches, scarlet, greys, and serenity blue too.

Routine is the kind that looks more lax than rigid, because bursts of serendipity still find you anyway.

-

(March 13, 2015) Hyogo

Because it’s in your final year of highschool, where the idea of what it initially was is thrown right out the window.

Miya Atsumu.

Brown eyes that are the complete opposite of every hue of the ocean, and his god awful piss yellow hair.

When you meet him, there’s not much to romanticize about it. He sat a few seats away from where you are, and parked his bike purposely close to your sister’s by the gate. He raised his hand to the questions he didn’t know the answer to and would drag his chair beside your desk to say hello even when you’d turn away to focus on your paper during breaks.

Love was an abstract sort of thing, so you could guess that his peculiarity fits.

You were all the shades of lilac while he offered you the pale yellow of every sunshine you found solace in ever since you were young. The color on the opposite end of the color wheel, Miya Atsumu truly was your contrast.

He ate cheesecake and didn’t hide his face when he sneezed. He’d roll up his sleeves and fight the next person without thinking to talk it out first and scribbled his ideas from the center of the paper instead of listing them out from top to bottom, or left to right like you always did.

But he was the start.

“Hi, Len.” he said instead of the standard “hi, hello; what’s your name?” greeting, and it even if it baffles you how he got your name before you even had the chance to introduce yourself—you didn’t think you had it in you to be mad about it.

Third year highschool Miya Atsumu with the god awful piss yellow hair and black undercut smiled in the way that had the left corner of his mouth rising just a little higher than the right, and you were fucking hooked.

You didn’t show it at first, but you were hooked. He had the kind of lilt in his voice that you always thought was more endearing than attractive, and would often lean back in his seat with one arm slung over the back of his chair as he waited for you to finish up with your review for the day. He liked all the things you thought were okay at best, but he was who stayed.

Libraries were for those who found a little comfort and familiarity in the silence, and he was a wildfire. He fell asleep waiting for you as you studied, but would always have a whole lunchbox of soft snacks for you to munch on while you did your thing, checking off the bullet points of your list.

On Saturdays, he was the person waiting for you at the bleachers by the track field with a towel and water bottle, cheering you on as if he understood the sport. When you’d pass him, he’d wave, and holler at you like you just won even if you’ve just been running laps for warmup.

He was never a hello, because he was a whirlwind that caught you off guard straight from the start. Some would say this is like serendipity, and perhaps it is—he is—but you like to think that maybe he’s just part of the black and white of your life. You liked what you liked, whether it correlated with your plans or not, and it really was as simple as just that.

-

In high school you always liked to eat cake after exams. You liked chocolate because it was sweet, and you’ve always been the person who had a sweet tooth.

You write left to right, from top to bottom and keep your letters beside to eachother in print, because it makes sense.

Miya Atsumu, the boy who was the pale yellow to your lilac, was the one who offered you a pen when you’d misplace yours, even if he only had one with him in his bag.

And you liked him, you suppose, because you just do.

-

(March 13, 2020) | Tokyo

Miya Atsumu was blunt, and freeing.

He was the sky, and not the sea, but love—later on, became the realization that you’re just freefalling.

After the initial introductions, there wasn’t a point where either of you felt like you were still supposed to be somewhere else. Like something you didn’t know had even been out of place sliding into it, instead of clicking. The skies would open, not just for you but for him as well.

While you saw all the colors of the sun and of the golden hour, Atsumu saw the shades of lilac in the earth.

What becomes is the love that’s felt in the silence, and on the way home.

It’s your voice that he hears chastise him to put down the donut and share it with Osamu when he’d been planning to leave him a third of the last at best. It’s the four letters of your name that he scribbles in the corners of receipts mindlessly, but would still fucking deny it every time he’d get caught.

Atsumu and his bike rides to school, along with his habit of catching up to you just to get off and walk beside you if he sees you nearing the gates.

A silent sort of company in the morning beside someone who was basically known at the most perfect personification of what noise would look like if it were to be redesigned into human form.

True love, and serendipity he thinks, is this. It’s you and all the witty remarks you’d make towards him, telling him to go away, that he never ends up taking seriously because you’d be blushing red before he even gets a chance to react.

The reaction he comes is delayed, but the epiphany that it’s you who becomes the face to love, isn’t.

You were the who when it came to answering the who, what, when, where, why, and how of love.

The what was answered love. The when, is yesterday, when you spilled a little bit of your chocolate milk on your desk and cursed in the way he never would have figured you saying, and today, when you looked out at the skies and smiled your private sort of smile towards the palette of the sunset.

The where was everywhere. Love, as you, in the sidewalks leading up to the gates, and on that desk on the row ahead, diagonal to him.

The why, was this. (It was everything.) (Running, then leaping. Flying, then soaring.) (Everything.)

He finally finds truth to the poems he usually tended to ignore in love songs, but it was great.

And the how, finally, was answered with a shrug.

How did he love you? Atsumu would always shrug because he just does.

Always, always does.

-

Along with the high, comes facing the reality that you must also fall. For the longest while, you’re climbing, climbing, climbing¸ until eventually, there’s nowhere else to go but down. The real face of love looked somewhat like that.

It’s one foot after the other, and steps towards the sky. There’s no staircase with a solid ground leading up, nor wings clasped behind you to lift you up even with through the absence of a breeze. (But love had you flying.)

It’s seeing the sights you’ve seen your whole life not with a new set of eyes, but a new vantage point. Atsumu’s the sun, all the while you still felt as if you were the child forever glancing up towards it. They tell you to never look at light straight on, but his glow never had you blinded.

Atsumu gave you clarity, showcased on a silver platter.

You understood all the priorly misunderstood parts of your life, where it felt like a new kind of exhilarating. Like having knowledge at the palm of your head, the world became as infinite as it became yours.

(And yours alone.)

Your hands that only grabbed just what was yours were suddenly reaching too far in the cookie jar. Greediness has never really been you, but eventually the fall—your fall—from the high looked like crumbs on your hands and shirt, and the absence of what once was where it should still be.

Atsumu never said a word, because it never was that way.

Still, you closed your eyes while still in the air. The view was right there, and Atsumu was beside you through the climb, the high, and the period where you just glide, telling you to open your eyes and look but you only did—for just a fraction of a second.

It’s the heaven that sits above the clouds that terrify you, you think. The unspoken truth that was kept as a hush is suddenly right in your ear screaming.

“He’s holding you to the clouds,” it taunts, then continues, “—But what have you given him in return?”

Atsumu’s never heard the demons in your head, nor was aware of its presence in the first place, but he always seemed to just have a way of knowing what to say, exactly when to say it.

Like now.

He’s sat in the bleachers, high on life, while you’re high on adrenaline. Six thirty in the summers meant the sun was just beginning to set, so he smiles, knowing that you’ve always thought of this moment as yours.

(And his, he adds mentally, a whisper to himself—a validation that you are his as much as he is yours.)

Truly.

“Hi Lena,” he grins; one side quirked up higher than the other, and under the bloom of scarlet and amber, he’s beautiful. “What’s your name?”

You’re laughing, as if you don’t carry the weight of all your demons on your shoulders. Amber against your deep brown eyes, and he’s caught. Like always. Fucking entranced, like always.

“Hi ‘Tsumu,” you voice back, leaning close and laughing at the way he scrunches his eyes close at your sudden display of brevity. It catches him off guard every time. He loves it, as much as he does you—but he’s still a boy inside.

You laugh anyway, pressing a kiss on his eyelids when he keeps his eyes closed, and you smile, softly, when you notice the way his shoulders relax.

“What’s your name?” you echo, then you’re both laughing at the inside jokes that you admittedly could never get sick of.

“I really don’t know,” he stretches further, enjoying the ay the moment became not just yours, but also truly his, with just a couple of words and some laughs. “I just can’t remember, Lena, but what’s your name?”

You laugh, throwing your hair up in a quick bun, before taking the seat beside him.”Atsumu we sound stupid.”

You don’t turn to return his stare, but you feel his eyes on your profile before he even tries to make something off of it. He smiles, and you feel that too.

You’re beautiful, he thinks to himself. A thought that comes to him more frequent than remembering the kanji for his own name, and Atsumu knows he’s rooted himself way too deep to even try to think of letting go.

“Fuck the status quo or whatever that shit says babe,” you hear him laugh in return.

You’re both sat shoulder to shoulder, eyes towards the sun, and the world feels like it only exists to be yours. (and his.)

A moment, where in your eyes, it feels like it’s just (him) and you.

Just him.

Love, as just Atsumu, because he has a way of being your forever anything and everything. A whirlwind of some sorts; a spontaneous wildfire wrapped with the pretty shades of serendipity, and it feels so right.

It’s quiet, but it’s the nice kind of quiet. The demons in your head are hushed, but if you know they’re probably just slumbering, you’re still overwhelmed with a newfound sense of comfort. The source feels like it’s meant to flow infinitely, and you smile—until you don’t. You remind yourself the virtue of never taking more than you can bother to use, so as you turn your head, watching him soak in the light once again, it takes so much inside you to remember that and fight back the urge.

“Don’t you have practice tonight?” you ask, curious.

His sports bag was placed beside him, and it takes you a little while to notice that he’s decked out in his training gear. The time on your clock tells you it’s six forty five, and you’ve always known that practice started at five.

“I do,” he hums.

You turn in response, poking his cheek before pinching it. “Then go.”

Atsumu sighs, in a too-dramatic-voice for a man who was well beyond those years, but you suppose that that was just one of his charms. “Wanna stay actually,” he pouts leaning his weight against yours, to which you’re quick to groan at, nudging your shoulder to try to get him away.

His chin settles on your shoulder anyway, but his other arm is quick to anchor you around the other side, making sure that he’s still holding you up, more than you holding him up. Atsumu’s face is close to yours, as is yours. It’s a position he’s always liked. When he looks at you, he can see the little dots on your face that other people never could get to see unless they were this close. When you blink, you do it slow, like you’re savoring the sight in front of you, and his heart thrums in a tender sort of happiness because even if you never looked much like the sentimental type, he knows you well enough to know that you really are that.

Atsumu juts his bottom lip, like he’s tired, and you laugh.

“Tsumu, go.”

“Tsumu,” he counters. “—stay.”

“Actually,” he corrects himself, shaking his head. “Lena,” he smiles. “Stay.”

-

“You don’t have to do anything,” he adds. “Just stay.”

His words hit you before you could even try to pull your walls back up, knowing that it’ll hit a spot you aren’t exactly keen on confronting just yet.

Just stay, his words echo in your ear, and you suppose that that’s really all you could do. Moments like this where love overwhelm you the most has you fearing love the most, if you were being honest with yourself. There was a fear that comes with love, because at the root of it all, love will always just be a risk.

The higher the climb, the harder the fall they say. The more you give, the more the world will take. You look at Atsumu, who faces you with his pouted lips and sunset painted across two pools of baby brown. He closes his eyes and leans forward, knowing that you’ll kiss his eyelids before you even say it. Like the earth letting itself pulled by gravity, you’re beckoned towards the sun, falling into orbit as time—the human concept of it anyway—begins to move slow and all you can do is spin in circles and marvel at the being that is the light.

“I love you,” he says, and he’s honest.

What terrifies you is the honesty in your voice too, when you reply with an “I love you,” of your own.

The higher the climb, the more painful the fall, you think. When Atsumu opens his eyes and allows for the silence to remain and blanket the piece of the world that is yours and his, you see that you’ve already made it to the highest summit.

The more you give, the more the world will take.

But the thing is, you don’t know what you’ve given him. Your hands are empty beside his, but he holds them anyway. You’re so fucking in love and it terrifies you because what is the earth next to the sun? It stays in a distance so it doesn’t burn, but now, even as you’re face to face with the being that embodies the essence of the light and life itself—you aren’t burning.

Then it hits you.

He is your everything.

You gave yours, so what else could the world take other than him?

-

And because love also wields the power to make you more fearful than you are in love, you admit to yourself that you’re fucking scared. Atsumu says “I love you,” again, and holds your empty hands in his that holds nothing but still feels all the ways full at the same time. It’s suddenly hard to swallow, and you’re cold.

The summit is beautiful, but you are cold.

You close your eyes, walk forward, lose your footing, then just freefall.

The scary part is, even if you do that, you know Atsumu will just think of it as an adventure and jump right after you—riding the current with you, even though you’re venturing into what’s unknown.

Still, you close your eyes.

You pull the parachute first, imagining that you’ve hit the ground before the winds would even get to you.

-

(March 13, 2021)

The funny thing about heartbreak is, Atsumu thinks, is that you recognize its presence before you see its face.

He felt you fading.

Fading from something, but it never fathomed to him that it was from him. You never pulled away when he held his hands, because he made it a point to consciously remind himself to wipe them clean beforehand every time so he supposes it wasn’t that.

“Are we okay?” he asks anyway, when you’re in his car, staring out the street that’s a couple ways from your house. Six-thirty’s already passed, and the skies are in shades of grey instead of the marmalade and amber the sunset always brings.

Atsumu’s voice is a break in the atmosphere, that you think wasn’t tense, but the way his voice quivers in the way only you can point out has you thinking otherwise.

You swallow.

“We are.”

Atsumu exhales, and at the way his voice seems to sound a little more amplified than usual, you realize that the engine’s turned off. Regardless of the nagging voice in your head to stop dragging this out, you turn away anyway.

You love him, and love to love him. You love kissing his eyelids when he naps on your thighs and associating him with the little things just because.

(You turn away, prolonging the inevitable, because you don’t want to associate him with the end—just yet.)

You think to yourself that you don’t deserve this—him—because he deserves better, but you want to have just one more bite. Fists clenched in the pocket of his hoodie you wear that still smells like him, and you want to cry.

Atsumu sighs again, tired. When you look at him, he’s already staring at you, for god knows how long now, and you wince because he looks exhausted.

“Are we?” he asks again, and when you open your mouth to try to find a couple words to string together as a reply, nothing comes out.

“Lena,” he says, and his voice is loud.

He’s only been whispering this whole time, and you’re aware of that, but it’s still loud. His car’s in park; the engine’s off, and when you shift your position from side to side to try to find your place, you can hear the fabric ruffle against each other.

“Len,” you hear again. “Lena.”

“Talk to me,” Atsumu says, and you’re baffled at the way that his voice sounds like a plea.

“I am talking to you,” you mumble. You shift again, but you’re still not comfortable; you don’t want to look at him. You don’t think that you deserve to look at him.

But his voice still comes to you, soft. He’s saying your name; again and again, but it still sounds like a fucking plea. Your shoulders shake, but you still it before he notices. The bullet points that come after the list you write left to right, from the top going to the bottom doesn’t give you an answer as to why he’s fucking pleading.

“Please look at me,” he’s whispering now. (Still loud.)

What is there to plead for?

“What’s wrong, Tsumu?”

“Babe, you gotta talk to me.”

The zipper drags across the plastic of the door, and makes a sound. Internally, you flinch right as you shift your position again because you’re still not fucking comfortable.

You look at him, then blink. He’s staring at you, desperate for words you don’t have, and suddenly your hands feel so empty.

What do I give you?

He shivers when a breeze floats in through the window, while you don’t. Then you blink again. Right, you think. This is his jacket that he gave you. He’s sitting beside you, at 23:10, half an hour away from his apartment, knowing full well there’s traffic in Tokyo regardless of the fucking hour.

Your thoughts, a battle between what can I even give you? and look at what you’ve given me.

“Tsumu I think this is it,” you suddenly whisper, the feeling of being so out of place finally dawning on you.

You keep shifting, uncomfortable in your position, because you’re not supposed to be here. You buy yourself a slice of cake after a job well done, but when you look at Atsumu—what have you done?

What have you given for you to receive so much?

His hoodie’s still warm, and your fingers clutch onto the fabric.

Atsumu stares at you, and even if you want to look away, you can’t. He holds your gaze like he’s held your heart for years now, and you know this won’t be a situation easy to break out of. His grip had always been solid despite the lack of bruises that tell the world of its presence.

“I think,” you sigh, swallowing down the urge to say it’s a joke, to take back your words.

“I think—“ you say again, but hesitate. Atsumu watches you nod your head, the look in your eye so far he doesn’t know if he can catch up by now. You’re whispering your words, the most of what you say phrases he can barely even understand, but he listens to you anyway.

You want to cry again, the tightness in your chest increasing tenfold, and the feeling of discomfort reminding you that you’re not supposed to be here. You don’t deserve this slice of cake, but you’re greedy.

Balled fists, hazy thoughts, and you’re cracking. You aren’t breaking, but you’re cracking.

The fallout is the same.

You nod your head again, and Atsumu watches, his eyebrows scrunched up and drawn together, as you seem to arrive at a conclusion without even letting him in the conversation. The haze clears from your eyes, and by the looks of it you’ve already rooted yourself someplace you don’t even want to stand in.

He tries to say your name, but you’re still shaking your head.

Then you’re shrugging off his jacket. Atsumu opens his mouth, still fucking confused because what are you doing?

You held his hand yesterday and kissed his eyelids goodnight three fucking hours ago.

“What are you doing?”

You hear him, but that’s all there is to it. You know you should be listening to him, but only the definition of the words register in your head. The meaning to be deciphered in the situation remains unseen, when the only thoughts in your head revolve around the fact that your hands are still so empty.

You think about what he says, though.

What are you doing, Lena?

He watches you unzip the zipper from the front, and hear the audible click when you unbuckle your seatbelt. He’s still watching, mouth parted in the silence in disbelief at what he thinks is the goodbye scenario he’s always avoided thinking about. You’re leaning forward, then it’s the left arm out before the right.

A breeze comes again, and even if your eyes are elsewhere, you catch a glimpse at him from your peripherals as he’s shivering—again. Frustration bubbles up in your chest, welling up into tears, but you don’t cry.

You remind yourself that you shouldn’t cry.

Balance was what kept the world in orbit, so therefore, you must only take, if you give.

Rewards are reserved for accomplishments, but what have you fucking offered?

Atsumu’s given you the world, but you still face him with empty hands and just an I love you.

Love was your certainty and your lifetime kind of truth, but what else is there? When Atsumu tells you he’s all yours, it’s enough, but when you do—why does it feel so little?

You take the risk, then the plunge, and look at him. When he blinks, and keeps his eyes shut just that while longer, you have to fight the urge to kiss his eyelids like you’ve always done. His hoodie’s folded on your lap now, but you still smell your honeydew on it.

How many times does he have to wash it to get the smell out? you think.

Atsumu swallows his words, his retaliations, because he knows you’ve anchored yourself before you even hit the water. If you had always been anything—other than the fact that you are always his everything—it was the fact that you are resolute.

So he lets you speak.

He already offers you his love even though he looks at heartbreak in the face.

And it’s your face he sees. Faraway eyes, your shoulders tense, and a shiver that makes your fingers tremble in the slightest. He sees every detail play out in slow motion, and even if his heart is hammering in his chest, just as yours probably is, he thinks to himself—you’re beautiful.

You, as the face of love from the hello, and still you, the face he puts to heartbreak as he listens to you say, “I think I have to let you go.”

‘Let what go?’ he thinks. When you let go of something, it’s to get rid of the bad—the dead weight.

Was he the dead weight?

“It’s for the best,” you say. (For your best, you think.)

“I don’t think we can keep doing this anymore.” (I don’t think I can keep doing this to you anymore.)

“I think this is the best for us.” (For you.)

“What—“

“Tsumu,” you say, cutting him off. Your voice doesn’t quiver but your hands hidden from his point of view clench then unclench.

“Atsumu,” you say again, this time with a smile. It isn’t forced, because you don’t think that you ever had to force a smile for him, but at the sight of him watching you, heartbreak written across his face, your heart can’t help but crack in the same pattern.

It runs a little deeper, you think. The kind of deep where you aren’t sure if even the scars will fade overtime.

“Lena—wait—“ he tries to interject, but you’re already opening the door and walking outside.

He knows your look when you’ve decided, and he knows that it looks something just like this. Still, he bites his lip, hoping that this would just blow off come daylight. He knew you had always been the type to feel the things that come, but never really dwell on it enough to process it. There was hesitance when you accepted things from others, and it never escapes his line of vision when you’d just duck your head a little lower when you didn’t have anything to offer back.

When he says I love you, he means it in both the verbal and in the silent way he tries to communicate with you.

Like leaving traces of himself in every little piece of everything, so that it’s there for you to have and just know.

“I love you,” he says again, and again.

In the silence, but you don’t hear it. On the walk home, you feel it but you turn away.

 -

This is the painful part of love, you think. You know that you’re frustrated, and that everything you hate which unfortunately comes with love is brewing so strong in your chest, that no words come out.

You tell yourself that you’re mad, but when you look at the mirror you turn away.

“My name is Lena,” you say, and you begin. In the world—or your world at least—chaos is swirling so in order to find organization for it, you close your eyes and center your thoughts on the first fact to keep you grounded.

“I like to eat cake, when I deserve it, because I still am victorious,” you say, then add, when a flash of pale yellow comes to mind, “—sometimes.”

“Yeah,” you say, then turn the corner to walk into the kitchen so sit at the table. You remember the slice of cake you bought this morning, meaning to save it for tonight, remembering that you just finished your exams after cramming for nearly two weeks.

In hindsight, you really should have expected it though. Your sister did mention that she just started her period the day before, and usually you never minded when she ate a couple of stuff that wasn’t yours—and you know this is isn’t the reason why you’re crumpled down on the kitchen floor with one fork in hand and no cake in the fridge, but you are.

You’re crying, and flustered, and the words that come out of your mouth sound more gibberish than coherent. You think that you’re saying Atsumu’s name, beside an apology, but truth be told you’re letting yourself go and blank out.

The cold air from the opened fridge hits you on your knees, and you really should be getting up by now to shut it close before your sister comes home and pokes at you for it, but you really can’t be bothered to think about caring.

This is the fall that comes with love, and what was taken was what you were given.

It’s you who gave him back, because the thoughts in your head are busy telling you that even if love was enough—was it really?

Were you enough was the ugly question you don’t face, so you close your eyes and convince yourself that you’re crying because of a fucking slice of cake and not because of the sun.

You ignore the memory of walking home, and still feeling Atsumu’s presence watch you with eagle eyes as he slowly drove with you down the sidewalk – “just so I know you’re home safe, at least give me that.”

-

Give, you think.

There was nothing that you had given him, and Atsumu had deserved something even greater than eternity itself.

-

It’s in the same hour of that same night where Miya Atsumu, who wore red eyes and slumped shoulders, that was standing outside the bakery an hour and fifteen minutes away from his place, wondering which kind of cake you’d like the most out of the thirteen in the display.

-

(September 13, 2021)

Time moves at a weird pace.

Yesterday feels like yesterday, and today feels just like today. It doesn’t move slow, because you know the clock keeps ticking, but still you move. Sunrise comes before sunset, but you stopped looking up and watching the in-betweens colors before that final stroke of marmalade, or even five thirty’s golden hour.

Gold reminded you of the sun, so you looked away. Love had you blinded, and you wanted to look at the world with the lens of practicality instead of the colored ones this time around.

Atsumu was still around, for the most part of it.

Graduation came, then summer, and you know even without you he kept blooming. Towards the end of the year, right before graduation, you still saw the posters on the wall, and heard his name in the announcements. There was always a congratulations right before, followed by a “we’re proud of you,” that never flew past your line of attention.

He deserved it, you think.

Miya Atsumu deserves the whole cake, and not just a slice, because he continuously still gives—his good deeds going well past just the title of a job well done.

You, on the other hand, both kept your distance and thoughts in order in the beginning.

He still said hello when you passed by him in the halls. The awkward timeframe right after a breakup didn’t spare either of you too. With you, opening your inbox and rereading the old messages; debating whether you should just archive the whole conversation or delete it altogether, then seeing Atsumu typing something for a whole five minutes before the indication stops and a message is never sent.

Where you’re stuck wondering what he could have said, because you know Atsumu’s always been the type to not only wear his heart on his sleeve, but rather, shout it out instead.

You never fit that bill, but you (love)d him anyway.

If you were being honest—at least to yourself—it took long, before Miya Atsumu became just the name of a contact in your phone, the text history buried at the bottom. Seven months’ worth of texts piled above his last, “hey, i’m outside,” that you never could bring yourself to delete.

For a while, you think, you deserved that slice of cake.

Just a slice, and not the whole thing, but for that while—it was all yours.

-

(December 2021)

Akaashi Keiji didn’t come into your life until another three months after you shut the book and pretended you never read its contents. You say you know the end, but really, you never flipped past page 223 despite the book ending at 416.

The end was a page that was skimmed over, and never really read through. A dog eared fold on the corner, instead of a bookmark, for the sake of it sitting on the shelf, looking finished. In the moment, you know it isn’t finished, and you’ll probably stumble upon the book again at some point, later down in time, but perhaps if you give yourself enough patience, you’ll forget that it was left to be unfinished in the first place.

Miya Atsumu was a story you started, where you read the start in a third person POV, then left it midway when you took the reins and rewrote what you think the ending would be from a first person perspective.

I am not enough for you, you said. I will take off this jacket and leave it here, because I haven’t offered you anything.

I will leave, and let you go because you deserve more.

(But it’s I love you, as the thought, that still will always remain.)

-

You have your books and bullet point notes, the days after today written in a list: from top to bottom with just a couple of scribbles along the margins. Akaashi met you like serendipity used to dictate, and this new book started like how it should have.

“Hello,” because that’s how it should start. Followed by a “how are you?” because that’s usually the next thing to say.

The conversation’s light before it dives deeper, and you think to yourself that you like it like that because it follows order. Atsumu gave you half his bento box two hours after you first met, while Akaashi offered you a napkin and his extra fork when yours fell.

Often, your friends would tell you that it probably wasn’t a good idea to compare the dynamic of the two, and you agree because if you were outside this situation you would be advising the exact same, but when you do things from first person, a lot of things become that much harder just because.

This wasn’t love, nor was this the replacement of love, but you can’t help but admit that Akaashi Keiji was the prince charming you wrote about in your diary when you were a kid. He was the ocean eyed prince charming every teenager dreamt of, and this was the slowburn kind of pace that love should be.

Atsumu barreled into you and made himself be known as the yellow in the color wheel opposite of your purple, and even if it didn’t clash, nor blend, it had a presence.

You think to yourself that Akaashi was all the shades of ocean blue, while you were that kind of purple right in between lavender and periwinkle.  You could stand next to him at the train station, or be squished next to eachother in the train during rush hour, and people would take one glance and assume you’re together.

Situating yourself beside the shade next to yours in the color wheel felt right. Blue to purple, or purple to blue. It worked. Neither of you had to jump far, or take a leap across the wheel, but only take a step and you’re right there.

He wasn’t love, but you didn’t let yourself think that he could be.

It’s two more years of this until your master’s is done, so you suppose reading a side story wouldn’t hurt much.

Only that this side story was getting a little more complicated than you initially just planned out. You jumped into this story without the thought of grabbing a bookmark, and Akaashi Keiji had been the type of person you knew hated dog eared bookmarks.

“What are your thoughts about this?” he asks you one day though, so completely out of the blue that it has you whipping your head to the side to stare at him, wide eyed. You’ve known him for a while now, and he was okay. Perhaps just the word great, at best, because whether you looked at this from a first person point of view or a third, your words would still be the same. Objective thoughts led you to thinking of coming to a conclusion based on the rubric of your childhood, and Akaashi fit the bill.

Maybe not your bill now, but he still fit it.

Akaashi Keiji was who your should have been prince charming looked like, with the ocean blue eyes and poetry for words.

Even though he asks you that now, when you’re seated in the passenger seat of his car parked outside your apartment building, you still can only bring yourself to just blink. You stay true to the fact that you are surprised, and you do admit that, but that’s all there is to it. Nothing feels like it’s leaping out of your chest, and there’s no flutter of anything in your stomach.

His words register in your head, but so does confusion.

“This?” you parrot, trying to find meaning through the limited context he provides.

Akaashi nods, hands still at 10 and 2 on the wheel, while his foot hovers over the brakes. You can see that the car’s in park, but he’s tense. He lets a couple more seconds pass—that felt like it was stretching a lot longer than what it really is—before inhaling and turning to face you.

“Yeah,” he nods, looking like he’s saying it to himself rather than towards you. “This,” he confirms, then after it looks like he convinced himself, he looks at you, and nods again.

You stare at two pools of the sea, that immediately has you wondering if it’s either the Atlantic or the Pacific. Your feet that had long been digging into the warmth of the sand on the shore are suddenly hit with the first cold kisses of the water, and you’re caught.

“This,” you sound out, and by now you’re already well aware of where the conversation’s headed. The both of you still skirt around the words anyway, the silence quickly settling in.

He’s breathing in and out, steady, and tapping his finger against the steering wheel—steady. You’re sat beside him wearing a jacket that’s always been yours, and the AC in his car is just the right kind of cold. When you shift, you’re not exactly comfortable enough to want to stay, but you aren’t uncomfortable to the point of wanting to leave right away either. The space between the both of you feel appropriate, and you know even if he leaves later, his place is only a ten minute drive away.

Convenience, you think; it’s an appropriate word to describe this.

So you turn to face him.

Ocean meets earth, and you’re aware of the cold waves touching your ankle now. You’re nodding your head when you hear the click of his seatbelt unbuckle, then keep your eyes on him when he leans close.

It’s like staying on the edge of the shore, hesitant for the long while, before the moon beyond the daylight loses patience and calls for the tide to favor the yearning of the sea as it grants the tips of its waves to reach further inland.

From your seat, you watch as the ocean comes to you.

Your hands are empty, still, but you did finish that paper two days early so you suppose a slice of something is okay.

“This is convenient,” he finally hears you say, and Akaashi wants to say something else, but he shuts himself up when he sees you finally look at him, like you found an answer to a question that’s boggled with your head for a while now.

He knows there was always something unanswered that bothered you, but he never had it in himself to breach past the boundary the both of you had situated right in the middle just for the sake of asking.

He was curious, but they did say that curiosity had its ways of killing the cat.

Akaashi doesn’t want to be killed—and because he didn’t want this to be killed either—he chose to keep his silence.

Still, he still has it in him to hesitate. The moon can only push the tides so much, and the water will only go so far to where it rarely ventures before it must recede back to where it should be come daylight.

It’s daylight that you yearn, and he sees that.

A faceless kind of sun—that he can only guess is the answer to all the questions he knows you still have.

What’s above the both of you is the gleam of moonlight now, he reasons, so he goes as far as he can and waits. You’re still standing by the shore—still sitting completely still—until he watches you break out of the hesitation laced with your thoughts, right as you move.

“What are we doing?” he hears you whisper, so Akaashi begs for the moon to push him forward just a little closer.

(He hopes you don’t pull away.)

“We’re doing what’s convenient,” he offers, a set of words strung together at the very last second that he knows is just a crafted lie, then prays for the best.

You’re nodding your head, and you give yourself just those few more seconds as you weigh your thoughts, deciding what’s still okay and what isn’t.

You think back to the bullet points of your journal, and mentally recite the facts written in an organized list.

You like to eat cake, and treat yourself a slice after a job well done, because that’s only when you deserve it. You (love)d Miya Atsumu for a whole novel of your life where the reason fell under just because instead of the specifics you try to fit in places for the sake of accuracy and detail. Miya Atsumu was the sun that was always with the sky, and you were never blinded even if you did always stare at him directly in the eye. (Next to that part is always a quickly scribbled why—but you don’t know the answer to it just yet.)

(You say you should really be getting back to it later, to fill in the blanks, and give it some closure—but you aren’t ready for a closure.)

(You aren’t ready to open page 223.)

Then next on the list is Akaashi Keiji. You had two classes with him and went to the same university for your masters and the most you know about him is that he likes his coffee with just a splash of caramel. He lives just a ten minute drive away from you, and he’s okay enough to share a laugh with on weekdays and breakfast with on weekends if you had class together that day. He’s okay with 7am lectures, even if he did have bags under his eyes, and he’s the type to always carry a bookmark with him or at least just a scrap of paper to fit in between the pages because he hated the idea of just folding the corners as substitute instead.

It’s not that he’s convenient, but rather this is convenient.

You got along well, and you suppose that you’re comfortable enough with the ocean to wade deep within it and still not drown.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you hear him murmur, so you take a step and wade in a little deeper.

Ankle deep, and you’re unbuckling your seatbelt as you shift and fully face him.

Ocean blue, and the waves are swirling, swirling, swirling—you’re pulled in. Waist deep, and the water’s cold enough to wake you up and remind you that it’s fine. You’re fine, and you can breathe; you aren’t overwhelmed, and when you stretch your fingers and try to feel for the sand beneath the waves, you can still feel it. There’s a certain security found in being grounded, then you’re thinking to yourself that whatever this is, is okay.

You try to stare down, and face the waves, and will yourself to not think of the sky.

There’s no daylight, and the sun slumbers, so the waves around you heed to the call of the moon and move back and forth, in motion, but still, around your waist.

So it’s you who buckles your knees in waist deep water and pull yourself under.

It’s the feel of the water, cool and not exactly cold that greets you, as you push yourself forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt before pressing your lips against his.

Akaashi sighs against your lips, as if he’s already discovered the ending to a story he conceptualized himself but never really had the courage of writing out.

He’s kissing you right back, and it feels good—for the moment.

You try not to think of the nagging feeling that pokes at you again and again, saying that the warmth of the sand under the sun in daylight feels much more like home than the cool feel of the water.

-

You’ve always known to yourself that there was the undeniable contrast between Akaashi and Atsumu.

Comparing the two wasn’t a bright idea—it was stupid, if anything, and didn’t help with shit, honestly speaking. (You always were honest to yourself.)

Akaashi hummed his praises, and never was the type to really shout them out. He called you when he’d pull up to your building, instead of wait outside the door and surprise you with a couple pieces of chocolate and a cheesy grin that you swore to hell and back you hated to boot.

Atsumu was everything unpredictable and freeing, but Akaashi was predictable in the way that eventually grew sentimental. He, alone, had forever been great. You knew well that there was so many things he could take pride in, and never bothered to hide your compliments when it came to his achievements, because you knew he deserved the recognition.

Akaashi spoke to you in metaphors, while Atsumu told you like how it is. You admit to yourself, that even if there were some days where you liked the challenge of trying to understand what was written underneath the underneath—the days where you just wanted to hear it as it just is were just as equal.

For the next few months after the first, time still moved okay. Sixty minutes was still an hour, while twenty four hours was still one whole day. Whether Akaashi’s hand was on yours, or if his lips were on your neck in the car, time still just moved.

Your heart skipped a couple beats, when his thumb would always caress the corners of your lips before and after he kissed you, and your cheeks would bloom into all the shades of scarlet when he’d whisper your name in between the kisses that never felt rushed.

But it was just that.

You felt the rush of what love was supposed to be—the hype that it never failed to bring—in the car.

At 11PM, in the parking lot of your apartment building, the height of love thrived on the fumes of serendipity for an hour or two every couple of nights, and would trickle fast when you’d open the door and tell him goodnight.

Atsumu was goodnight, my love, with the cheesy smile and your montage of eye rolls but secret blushes when you’d turn your back and make your way inside your house. Akaashi, on the other hand, you think is just your goodnight, then go, because at the end of the day—because of convenience—the both of you are somehow dragging out the goodbye.

So you part from him, wipe your lips, and try to ignore the way his thumb lingers just a little longer on the corner of your lips. You turn away when the look in his eye turns softer, because it shouldn’t, and pretend like you didn’t just see the shift the both of you have been trying to get away from.

Just two years, then goodbye, you tell yourself.

This isn’t love, Akaashi thinks to himself, hand on the wheel and foot on the gas pedal instead of the brakes. He watches you walk past the hood of his car, the hand that was just balling up the collar of his shirt only moments ago raised to give him a goodnight wave as you walk past, and shit, he thinks.

He still smells honeydew even after you’ve shut the door, and he can’t help but notice how silent the car feels despite the low hum of the air conditioner blasting inside his car.

Akaashi sinks into his seat, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, before he sighs his deep exhale.

“Ah,” he mumbles. “Shit.”

This wasn’t supposed to be love.

-

If there was one thing he excelled at above the rest, and kept as a constant since day one, for Akaashi it was playing it safe.

This route was set to be the one he’d take when he’d drive home, because it was safe. Traffic was inevitable in the city, but this on had the least turns. A couple stoplights, and some convenience stores would be in every corner as well as a gas station at every couple of miles was convenient.

Safe, like choosing just plain vanilla for his cake flavors ever since he turned old enough to pick out his own cake, and safe, like just a splash of caramel in his coffee to lessen the bite of espresso.

You were what challenged him to walk a little ways outside the circle he’d always deemed as safe.

He didn’t run away from it, on the other hand, because he realizes that it’s curiosity that made him take the bait. You weren’t just the girl who shared a couple subjects with him and wrote her notes in the same order, the letters written in print instead of scribbled with questionable cursive.

Truth be told, it was before he even took the risk that night and begged for the moon to let him reach just a little further in the shore for him to unconsciously begin redesigning the face of love into the contours of your face.

You looked like love.

What it could just possibly be at the start, until he waded too far into the shore for that thought to turn into the beginnings of certainty.

And when Akaashi Keiji was certain, he took no time in looking for somewhere to bury his roots as deep as he can possibly go in.

It started with noticing that some weeks you prefer red velvet over chocolate mousse, then making a mental note to himself that you prefer the bakery on the east side of campus than the one on the west. You never made too much conversation with the teenagers that worked there part time, because he understands that there’s never really a point in doing that when you could just be on your way, but he took note of how you’d smile a little more towards the uncles that trimmed the hedges on the garden outside.  

In his eyes, not only did you look like the textbook definition of love, but you also looked like his dream of what love is supposed to be.

It’s supposed to be looking at someone, doing something so mundane, and realizing that having a name beside you written in a book that was supposed to just tell your journey wasn’t all that bad—at all.

And all it took was a Sunday morning, on the twenty first of some month he can’t quite recall in the moment, for him to catch a glimpse of you making your way to the library with a cup of what he knows is just boba in a coffee mug in hand. The sky behind you looks like it opens, as if there’s something with it that’s always been with you, and even though you’re at a distance—in his eyes, you’re glowing.

You smile at the uncle who’s trimming away at the hedges to your right, then right before you make a turn, you’re raising your hand as a good morning and giving him a smile.

And fuck, Akaashi thinks.

He holds a heart that beats, where for the moment it’s not because of the fact that he still needs to breathe.

He’s okay, and this is okay.

He thinks to himself that there’s a chance, because the both of you work. So it just means to say that this, can too.

“Okay,” he exhales, the whisper more as a reassurance to himself than to anyone else. The world covered in daylight slumbers at his words, and as he stands, his own schedule in place, he wishes for the blessing of the moon to push him with the tides back into the shore again.

“Tonight,” he texts you, instead.

“I’ll pick you up tonight.”

-

(March 13 2022)

In shades of grey, Akaashi Keiji loves you.

Grey car, oceanic yes that look grey under the stormy nights you’d always meet him in, and the rainclouds of tonight blending the skies into the muddled shades of one palette. Making out in his car, a couple times a week, because even if he wanted to hold your hand and kiss you out in the world—you always did pull back.

But he has this, and for an hour and some minutes, has you.

Your palms on his chest, where his breaths are huffed out and fucking heavy. There’s smoke out the engine, the air conditioner’s blasted in just the way he knows you like, but it’s those hazy eyes of yours he could never read that stare at him.

Or towards him, rather.

Akaashi thinks to himself that it’s always looked as if you mean to be staring at someone else other than him, living through the moment that was somewhere else but here. He knows love is meant to be screamed at the top of his lungs, so he tries to at least do that.

He’s never really thought the rest of the world should know, because all he really wants is for you to know.

Words don’t come out, and his hands are under your shirt before they even try to run through the skin of your neck like he usually does. Cold palms flat against the curve of your back, and you’re confused. Akaashi’s staring at you, breath held as he holds onto your smell of honeydew for as long as he can like it’s the lifeline he needs. Your eyes are even hazier, looking like you’re even more lost, and he’s frustrated.

He kisses you again, pulling you flush against him, until eventually you’re pushing at his chest when the center console begins to dig into your skin a little too much.

“We can go upstairs?” he usually tries to suggest, and now, looking at your red lips and mused hair, he wants to ask the same question again, but because he thinks he knows you like the back of his hand, he also knosws that you’ll just wave him off with a half hearted no chuckled out instead.

This is just a pit stop, and he knows. He is just your pit stop, and even if the agreement was the same on the flip side, it bothers him that he fucking knows.

“Someone will see us,” a thing you say, because he’s just your for now.

Akaashi Keiji, in your head, is going to be your almost mistake, almost enemy.

(And you don’t want to hate him. It’s not that his limbs have been too entangled with yours for you to come up with that decision, but rather, it was just how you just didn’t want to hate someone you shared slices of your truest you with.)

“Someone will see us, Keiji,” you warn again, ducking a little when a group of people make their way out of a building and head in the general direction of their car.

Akaashi knows that you’re aware of the tinted windows he had installed just two weeks before, and that they fucking worked, so why were you still hiding?

What is there to hide?

So it’s him saying, “I don’t care,” that lights a kind of flame in his gut. They travel up to the veins, reminding him of their existence.

It’s a risk, he thinks. He holds your face in between his hands, shaking. You allow yourself to finally tremble with him, because broken has been the only side of you that he’s ever known.

Akaashi’s frustrated, again, because watching you watch him in the dim—despite the haze of your dark brown, he still tries to jump at the chance that perhaps this could be love.

He wants to know what you look like in every shade in between black and white. There’s a lot of pastels and violet blended in with your choice of wardrobe, so it fits.

Akaashi wants to hear the sound of your voice at twenty three, and not just at a zero or a hundred. He knows your heart breaks a little more when October 5 around the calendar, but he wants to know why.

“Someone is going to fucking see,” you’re hissing now, but you still don’t pull away.

Akaashi knows he’s just the getaway car, but he still keeps his foot on the pedal, always ready to go when you are.

He sees the look in your eye and recognizes the tendrils of goodbye before it’s even completely thought out from your end, but he shuts his mouth, swallows his own doubts, and kisses you like you’re his.

(For tonight, you are.)

(Under the moonlight; away from daylight; within the waters, ever drowning in the depths—you’re his.)

So Akaashi locks his doors, starts the engine, and kisses you again and again and again and again like the world within this little space is all the world will ever be. He drowns out the voice in his head that tells him to pull away; to push you and himself away, because this isn’t okay—but tonight he is selfish.

“I don’t fucking care,” he repeats; in between the kisses and the façade.

“Lena I don’t care.”

You don’t understand, but at the same time you do.

You’re still kissing him anyway, and leaning into his touch. You only look at him when he opens his eyes, to pull yourself back into the water and away from the memory of daylight and sun and fucking sand because not yet—you think. You don’t want to think about the word deserve, just yet. There’s a fire that’s been lit in your veins, and the world feels like it’s kicking you off of somewhere again so you could just soar.

It’s not the same, the voice in your head cries.

And it’s not.

Love, is Miya Atsumu and daylight. He’s the whole tier of cake always put on display that you mean to buy, but never do because you feel like what you carry with you would never be enough. He’s the masterpiece against the skies, against the backdrop of your world, and he deserved nothing short of the greatness that he is too.

Akaashi’s lips are on your neck, where he mumbles your name, once, then twice, but never enough to feel like he’s endgame. There will never be a number to match to that what could be enough, you think, so you let it be and leave it at that.

Akaashi Keiji isn’t a secret, but you still shield whatever you have from something. You think you shield it from the sky, but some days has you feeling like it’s really meant to be understood as working like the other way around. He’s kissing you, still, then when his lips move to kiss the side of your forehead you still.

You know he means to leave a kiss on your eyelids, but you keep your eyes wide open—staring at him. It’s the ocean blue, but you’re not being pulled away, swept out to sea this time, because there’s no current. Within the depths, you see a reflection of the skies that always watch, and the clouds above look like they mean to weep.

Your toes hit the sand underneath the waves, and you take one step back—closer to the shore.

You’re not there, yet, but you’re headed there. Akaashi looks at you, looking a little more broken than whole, and while there’s an apology at the tips of your tongue, he beats you to the punch by saying “What’s wrong?”

He knows he’s asking a question he knows the answer to, and he probably shouldn’t be doing that, because it will only bring more harm than good at this point, but he says it anyway. At every chance that falls on his hands here he can at least try to make his presence be known, to root his name and him into the grounds of your earth, he’ll do it.

Pinpricks that poke and prod at his chest before they dig a little deeper, and a whole lot fucking deeper when you turn away from him and pull away, taking with you your traces of honeydew and love.

“Nothing,” you answer. A lie. You both know, but neither of you confront the clear sins of the other. “Nothing,” you say again, solidifying your answer.

The list comes reappears in your head, and the facts that you’ve been gathering lay themselves side by side beside you in the most cohesive order.

You like to eat cake when you did something worth celebrating for. Fact.

Your name is Lena, and there’s a lot about the lyrics to Ayahuasca that sends you spiraling. Fact.

Fruit tarts over cheesecake, because even if you didn’t mind cheese all that much, cheesecake felt weird. Fact.

Miya Atsumu, forever and always; spring to winter, will always be love. Fact.

You let him go because he deserved better. Fact.

You mark the pages of a book you haven’t finished reading by folding the corners of the pages into the little triangles resembling dog ears instead of buying an actual bookmark, while Akaashi Keiji, does the same. Fact.

Your truth is that even if he stares at you right now, with the eyes of a man in love, you know that the sinking feeling in your stomach is the fact that you think as if he’s just meant to be with you in the moment, but not after it passes.

“Keiji, I’m sorry.”

-

It’s the way you looked as you said the words instead of the words itself that sticks in Akaashi’s head the most. He’s up, awake at 2 in the morning, tossing and turning in bed, frustrated. There’s a misplaced sense of anger inside, but he knows it isn’t towards you.

He isn’t angry at himself, nor you, nor the two fucking words that sounds like a consolation prize if anything.

Akaashi sits up, back against the headboard and ponders to himself if this is the kind of extremity Bokuto had to face whenever he was going through the motions. It’s the kind of fire that bubbles up but never explodes. First, he remembers. Then, he’s angry. Next, he’s swallowing down the words he wants to say because the problem is—he doesn’t know who to say them to.

He could call you and ask what your fucking deal was, but he knows that’s out of pocket. Your deal had always been the black and the white. He knew you as someone who appreciated it most when things fell into what was in accordance to the list you always write in order. It’s always been either this, or that, and he should have drilled it into his head at the very least.

Then after those thoughts eventually settle into his head and accumulate into a pile in front of him, the anger that already had rose to the neck area suddenly simmers down.

Then, finally, Akaashi realizes, as the exact moment settles in—he’s just tired.

He’s a little sad, and tired. Slumped shoulders, tired eyes, and thoughts a whirlwind of just you, you, and you.

This wasn’t part of his norm, he thinks, but he thought you were. He thought all there was to you were boba or juice shoved in a coffee mug and friendly hellos to the uncles who trimmed the hedges. You were the color lilac despite having a love for all the shades found in the rainbow. There was probably a semblance of love, in your life, before him, but he knows that inn this part of your life—he was bound to meet someone who’ve had endings of their own.

He sighs again, realizing the truth that he doesn’t want you to be just an ending for him to reminisce over with a group of strangers some time later.

And of course, Akaashi Keiji was the type to demand answers, because it’s only minutes later here he finally makes up his mind, standing up in a rush and picking up his phone as he dials your number, the digits memorized despite your contact having been long saved.

You don’t pick up after the first ring, but it’s only two am and he sees your game activity on discord so he knows you’re up. He’s tapping his foot, a little impatient, but because tonight he made the abrupt decision to suddenly be selfish—just this once—he didn’t care.

The second ring still rings, but there’s silence. Your status changes from online to do not disturb, and by the third ring, he hangs up, and grabs his keys.

-

To be fair, you did count down from ten to one.

Akaashi’s at your door before you can even say hello. He doesn’t look like he’s lost much sleep, taking into consideration the fact that you already are well aware of how little he even sleeps, but it’s you who leans by your door and says hello anyway.

He shifts in his place, left leg supporting his whole weight before the other. You watch, somewhere between amused and indifferent as he parts his lips once or twice, shutting them close each time before he eventually just settles with looking away and murmuring, “Wanna go for a ride?”

“To make out?”

He looks at you, then sighs. “Just wanna talk.”

-

And to be fair on your end, even if he did say that, there really isn’t much talking going on. The both of you are only wearing your pyjamas, just a couple hops away from going to bed—until this—obviously. He’s driving around the street of the neighborhood park nearby in circles; the one with the two stoplights on either ends, and just one corner as the only way that lead to your house, while his route was the turn a couple more ways ahead.

He misses the turn to your home every time. It’s a fifteen minute walk at best, and truth be told, if you were already sick of this, you would have long gotten off and started walking already, but you suppose that tonight you were a little more patient.

There’s a lot of factors that have to deal with Akaashi being patient with you too, so you could guess that it’s safe to assume that this was just a give and take situation.

You give him your words, while he gives you his.

He gives you his time, then you give him his.

There’s a balance that needs to be maintained, so while he gives you silence, in return, you do the same.

Until he breaks it, saying, “What happened back there?”

“It is what is is, Keiji,” you hum, head turned to face the window to your right.  

“We were working out,” he reasons, and you widen your eyes, looking at him, baffled. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had an agreement, Ji,” you retaliate.

“We didn’t say anything, Lena,” he scoffs.

Scoffs, you think. Then it fucking dawns on you that he was actually already wading in the deep end, too fast, too hard.

You shake your head, always having been resolute with your decisions, as you were transparent with your intentions. Akaashi, on the other hand, seemed to just squint right through it and look at the mirage instead of the actual desert that was right there.

“But it was still said,” you tell him, and when he stops the car near the sidewalk just to gawk at you, it really fucking hits you that he was way too deep in something that was only waist deep in hindsight.

“That’s what you think,” Akaashi tells you, but he doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t sound tired either, so it messes with you in a weird way to realize that this is just his truth.

“I can’t tell you what you can and can’t think just like how you can’t be putting words in my mouth that I never even said, Keiji,” you bite back, flustered and frankly a little appalled at the bluntness off his words. When you stare at him, you try to give it some reason that maybe he’s just tired, or maybe he just had a bad day and was spewing shit out of his mouth at best, because at the moment, absolutely nothing is making any fucking sense.

But then he’s sighing, tired. The back of his head thumps the car seat headrest when he leans back and loosens his grip on the wheel. The streetlights flicker, but stay, while the stoplight with the corner that has your turn on it signals yellow.

You bite the bullet and turn to him, but still slow yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean—“

From his peripherals, Akaashi sees the stoplight further up ahead that leads to his turn blink from green to red.

He pauses.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m—fuck. Fuck, okay,” he continues, pausing to rub his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Len, I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“I think,” you begin, exhaling, and frankly feeling a little more worn out. “I think we were looking at different stoplights this whole time.”

Akaashi laughs, finding it a little out of your character to be speaking in metaphors, especially knowing that that was always his sort of thing. He nods, anyway, a little past worn out, and just fucking tired at this point. It dawns on him that it is three in the morning, and he’s pulled you out of your apartment just to try to find a common ground in something that had been completely one sided from the start.

You’re yawning, in your spot just beside him, but you still look at him anyway with blinking eyes that look more sleepy than anything, but he supposes he’d rather take that kind of look over frustration or sadness.

He fights the urge to tuck in the strand of hair behind your ear, looking away when you blink a little too long, because he knows that his lips will never find a home against the skin of your eyelids he knows he’ll still periodically think about from time to time when nostalgia decides to visit him a little later down the road.

He remembers his stoplight’s at red.

“This kinda feels like a breakup,” he laughs anyway, giving himself this little bit to stay in the moment and pretend like car rides with him, and you, will still be an okay thing for tomorrow.

“Does it?” you smile, slowing down, and thinking of yellow.

Yellow.

He smiles, but doesn’t say a word, and the conversation ends just like that.

“Let me drop you off at least,” he says, and you shake your head, eyes cast towards your stop light as the countdown to green begins to tick.

“I think I wanna take a walk.”

“At three AM?” he prods. “Alone? In Tokyo?”

It hits green, and you stifle a laugh, a little drunk on the kind of adrenaline that doesn’t make you feel like running, but rather, soaring, instead.

“Yeah,” you snort. “At three AM, alone, in Tokyo.”

He knows he probably should have said something to at least get you close enough so that your building can be seen, but by the looks of it, your mind’s already long made up as you open your door, and walk out, shutting the same door softly behind you. Akaashi’s quick to lower the windows on that side, tilting his head as you do the same, leaning down give him a little smile.

“I really don’t mind dropping you off just so that I know you’re safe,” he says.

“And I really am okay,” you laugh, waving him off. “No need to be so nice, I just probably broke your heart.”

“Probably’s an understatement,” he laughs, but waves you off when you look like you’re about to say something.

“Why are you being nice to me? I didn’t do anything to you,” you laugh again.

Then you watch as Akaashi shrugs, smiling the kind of smile that you think he does when he’s alone as he looks at your stoplight turning to green ahead instead of the one on his. “You don’t need to do anything for anyone to get stuff, Len.”

“—You really don’t.”

-

It isn’t as much as looking at heartbreak straight in the face, Akaashi thinks to himself. It was really just a matter of pulling his head out of his own ass and realizing that the first look of a break of his mundane isn’t what fate has in store. Serendipity works weird, he realizes. People say it’s the happily ever after you’re supposed to be craving for, but he realizes it’s a lesson.

You were a lesson, to which the exact words he can’t exactly have a solid grasp of as of now, but he knows in time he’ll find them.

The reality of heartbreak is that it just comes, for the sake of being there. It doesn’t trickle slow, or give a warning. In his case, Akaashi realizes that it’s just there because it’s the result of something.

He’s driving down a street, passing your turn, where he has to peel his eyes away at the sight of you walking past a no U-Turn sign, because it just hits him that you were never for his to cradle to begin with.

There’s not much about you, but he can just about tell that you look like the kind of woman who holds on to the best kind of book, shoving it away during the best part, because you’re afraid of the inevitable that the story will still end.

He taps at his steering wheel, coming to another stop at the red light of his street, where he turns on his signal to turn to the right when he’s given a go. For a moment, his eyes flicker towards the passenger seat, where you were just hours ago, in the exact same moment where he was high on something and thinking that the world was just made of 2.

Akaashi looks at heartbreak in the face, but it’s just fragments of you, and a couple sentences he can’t connect to each other, and just like that he knows that this little slice of your life will just be a piece of a puzzle he isn’t a part of.

It’s okay.

It will be okay.

But right now the light’s red, and he allows himself to feel that it isn’t. He tells himself that it’s not because he isn’t enough, but rather, he’s not enough for the kind of fulfillment you were looking for. Perhaps love and happiness looked like the skies, and not the seas, because that would explain why most of his memories with you always involved you facing the clouds, as if caught in a daydream.

Akaashi laughs to himself, a little dryly, when the lights turn green and he’s easing off of the brakes. His world will always be in motion, and he’ll always be headed towards something—but right now he thinks of the moment as a metaphor that he’s heading out of something.

Out of the first phase of love; where it’s just an idea and not exactly it.

He was the getaway car, but it was okay. In shades of grey he supposes he’ll always see you, but perhaps one day he’ll find the perfect shade of orange to let the blue in his eyes finally come into a full bloom.

-

It’s in the exact same moment that you pass by the no U-Turn sign that you’ve always just ignored on your street, where a lot of things hit you.

First is the memory of Atsumu.

At first, you feel bad, because you know you probably just walked out of a situation that had to deal with you breaking a heart instead of healing it, but your truth had always been your truth and there was no point in sugar coating something whose end was prewritten right from the start.

So you shake away the thoughts, and remember Atsumu again.

It’s undeniable, that who he was had always been your truth regarding what love would always be. Miya Atsumu as the gold to your lavender, and even if the color wasn’t just your neighbor in the palette, standing beside him fit.

It fit, but just saying that it does doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

The No U-Turn sign stares at you in the face, so you stop.

You’re standing in the sidewalk again, like all those years ago, and even if you’re pretty sure that you just broke a heart only some moments ago, the only name running through your head in the moment was Atsumu’s.

Love was as ugly as it was beautiful. Selfish as it was selfless.

No U-Turn, so you keep walking.

You pull back from the waters, and ignore the moon, and stare at the skies, pretending that you’re in the presence of the sun where the sky that blankets your side of the world is bathed in the colors of daylight. Every shade of the sky saturated, where the sun looks more of a gold than a blinding yellow.

You laugh, briefly recalling the time when he decided to let you be with the spiral of your thoughts, and it’s tonight where you come into a full realization that he only did that because he knew this was the something you needed to go through yourself before even letting him in.

Your thoughts drift, and you look up to the sky, searching for the big ball of light, because in your heart, you’re calling for love. You’re alone in the streets, at three in the morning just loitering around in your pyjamas that don’t match in any angle, but love is what drives you to keep walking home.

No fucking U-Turn, and it hits you like a damn truck.

Miya Atsumu will always be the love that you’ll still find in the silence. In every shade of yellow and gold, and every walk home. He’s the presence—or a fucking entity, you laugh to yourself—that drives slow next to you who decides to take it slow and just walk home, talking the long route on the sidewalk.

There are streetlights that glow in the distance like fireflies, and you’re suddenly thankful for the burst of light.

Light, like your Atsumu, who will always be the face of your love.

You don’t know if you deserve it, but it truly had to take reading a damn side story and coming into terms that the most you could ever give the rest of the world was an honest I’m sorry.

“You don’t need to do stuff for anyone to get stuff,” you hear Akaashi’s voice chorus in your ear again, so you smile to yourself, not exactly changed, but a little enlightened at most.

Change and acceptance doesn’t happen overnight, but like love, who came into your life like a rush, epiphanies also held the nature of just arriving without warning.

The tears that begin to dribble down your face afterwards worked sort of like that. You recall sitting on the floor of your kitchen, tears on your hands, down your cheeks, on the floor, and on your shirts. You told yourself again and again that you were crying because of the cake and not because of how unkind you were to yourself, because even if your hands were empty—you know that word is only subjective at best.

You’re walking down the streets now, along the streets with the lights that look like fireflies at three am and you could just feel Atsumu smirking beside you if he was here.

Tears that feel warm, but it’s liberating.

Nothing strikes you one minute, only to change you a whole 180 in the very next because it just doesn’t work like that, but what does stay is Akaashi’s words. They swirl in your head again and again, like a broken record that has you realizing isn’t playing such a bad song at all.

Love is as selfish as it is selfless.

You loved Atsumu selflessly, but now you want to hold on to a semblance of him again—albeit it just being a memory, for now, and love with the intention to take.

It’s to accept, he would correct you, if he was there, but then again, those will always just be the words that you are yet to hear.

But for now you walk along the sidewalks and reminisce. You reminisce the view of the summit, and the feeling of being so high up. You think of Akaashi and the ocean blue eyes you thought were just great at best, and whisper another apology into the universe you pray will deliver your words to the rightful ears, because right now, you just want to love selfishly.

There’s a book on your shelf with a dog eared bookmark on page 223, and you think that tonight you’ll pull it out and at least dust the cover.

When you look in the mirror, you know that you’re in love and that fact alone is as undeniable as the truth that your name is Lena.

It’s okay to be in love, and a little broken, and it’s okay to eat a slice of cake just because.

You’re crying still, when you stumble out your door again, Atsumu’s hoodie around your frame, as you drive to that only bakery in town, forty five minutes away, because you know that they sell the best kind of red velvet.

The funny thing about epiphany is that once the smallest bit of it strikes you, it keeps coming. Reality is messy, you think, and your eye opening moment doesn’t happen like how it does in the books where every moment plays out one before the other in perfect order.

There’s a method to the madness that is life, where the order is called spontaneity because the very nature of it is to defy just that.

Serendipity that’s always found you through the face of Miya Atsumu and the amber skies that were yours and his every six thirty. Eyelid kisses and I love you, just because. Climbing from one straight to a hundred, and even a fucking thousand that quick because love is as much of a whirlwind as it is a slow burn.

You tell yourself time and time again that all you do is take without giving, but at this point it’s the universe that wishes for you to understand that there is no such thing as ever giving too little.

Love, as selflessness and purity will keep giving because even if you open your hands and offer it nothing, it will only smile back fondly, telling you that you are always deserving—as you are.

You surpass the word enough—as you are.

You are loved—as you are.

There will always be someone who will sit behind the door and eat cake with you in the silence.

-

Right now, it’s just you, but you make do anyway.

You’re in the driver’s seat of your car, frankly a mess, primarily because of three things.

The first, you’re finally feeling everything you’ve told yourself you shouldn’t be feeling—all at once. Second, the cake is really good, and you don’t feel guilty about eating it this time around.

And third, the auntie selling you cake commented that there was a gentleman just last week who wore the exact same kind of jacket that you’re wearing, buying all thirteen flavors of cake and taste tested each one on the table by the window. She asked him if he was waiting for someone, and apparently he’d always say that he is, but she was just taking her time getting caught up in a little something, but “she’s worth the wait,” he’d repeat.

“She’s worth a lot of things, so waiting a little bit is okay.”

Apparently he would buy everything but cheesecake, even if he did stare at the piece a little longer, looking like he wanted to try.

You’re crying at the thought that there was still a piece of him that was all you, even after all the one sided conclusions you didn’t even talk him through with.

“Okay,” you say, whispering to no one but yourself in particular. The container with your one slice of red velvet is on your lap, while there’s an unopened one that’s the mango cheesecake you would never in a million years order, in the passenger seat of your car.

“What do we do now?” you say again, looking at the reflection of yourself in the reflection of your windshield.

You’re nodding your head, the words to write beside the bullet points in your head already listing themselves out in a neat line, written in print. You shake your head afterwards, for the first time without the presence of anyone really, overwhelmed with all the things you thought would be your end, showing you all the epiphanies you’ve been pretending you never saw all this time.

There’s a comfort found in listening to the sound of your own sniffles in the car, your own arms around you like the anchor Atsumu’s have always been, and just like that you break down again because not only are you in love with him, you’re also giving yourself the kindness your soul has been needing to realize that you need to love yourself just as much too.

It’s not easy, but it’s tangible.

Accepting love, as the selfless something, and not just a factor that worked like the give and take system was also not right here, but in time you’ll be right there with it where it’s tangible.

“I’ll eat cake today, just because,” you finally say, and at your first bite of red velvet, the weight of your demons lessen just a little bit.

 -

April 16, 2024 | New York City, USA

-

Miya Atsumu has always thought to himself that love worked in an oddly sadistic way. It came without explanation, stayed without boundaries, then would just fucking up and leave like it didn’t just build a whole world and there would be no consequences.

Thankfully for him, love was the one thing that never left.

He saw you through a myriad of what you think are your lessons, and Atsumu smiles at every candid memory of you.

He saw you think to yourself that you were falling for ocean eyes, then saw you again, a few months after what he assumes was the fall out, at your graduation.

You wore your cap the other way the first time, and he chuckles, snapping a photo from the distance—to which you rapidly turn your head towards his direction at—a feat of yours that he can never guess how it was made possible. He was there, from a distance, cheering when your name was called, and you walked to the stage. Lilac flowers and every slice of chocolate was something he dedicated forever to you, and every time he’d close his eyes before a serve he would lightly tap at his eyelids reminding himself that that will always be yours and his.

-

The future is where time moves slow, and then it doesn’t.

The demons are there, but you suppose that it’s because they’re sort of a lifetime deal. Somedays you’ll still look away from the slice of cake you’ve been meaning to eat after a job well done, but the better days also come right after the plunge where you’ll drive yourself to the auntie’s bakery located in the OK part of New York at three in the morning just because.

You were connected to the world, despite your demons, and it was okay.

New York had went from just a postcard on your wall to the skyline that greeted you every morning before you went to work.

The smell of coffee and the feel of sunlight at 9am. Love, as the something you can still hear in the silence, because it works just like that.

Silence, as the word that’s nothing more than the absolute contrast to what New York is, but it was you dulling even the noise that comes with Time’s Square to realize that this is the kind of atmosphere good for you.

-

And because serendipity works like a bitch, it really shouldn’t have surprised you when through the crowd, it’s still Miya fucking Atsumu who you see staring back at you like he’s found you far longer than you found him.

(Perhaps there’s more than just truth to that.)

You don’t think you want to cry, because the love that’s always been there still feels the same, and when you walk towards him, a pace like your usual, you feel weightless.

There’s a comfort about meeting smack in the middle, and you think that this is it. You gave your twenty steps while he gave his. Maybe some days he gives you a little more than just twenty, and maybe some days you’ll find yourself in bed, taking zero steps while he’ll go as far as flying some thousands of kilometers just to be with you.

You let serendipity be, as you stand before him, feeling like no time has passed.

A little over three years has passed, but see the same streaks of amber in his eyes of earth, and you think that love, also has a face that looks timeless.

And it’s this.

It’s you, and it’s him—in a city that uses noise that works like silence.

It’s New York and the sea of lights. Miya Atsumu and his dopey smile, that somehow still crossed more than just a couple oceans to a land foreign to him, and he still managed to come to you halfway, like a whirlwind.

An unprecedented presence that you welcome anyway, because love, you suppose, will forever be so many things.

It’s one face that one name that holds all of that though, Atsumu thinks.

He’s looking at you, where in his head he’s already laughing because your lipstick’s smudged on the left side, the culprit obviously being the piece of croissant looking a little lame in your hand.

“I love you, still, but I think you know that,” he says immediately, as if he’s just continuing a conversation.

(In a way he is; the last you talked to him, you never really heard a reply. You said goodbye and then you left, and Atsumu never got a chance to get a word in.)

And as if he read your expression, he laughs, hands low on his waist as he stands in front of you, present. “I wanted to tell you that then so I’ll say it now too I guess. My voice has got a little deeper so it probably has more effect now.”

You shake your head, already past the state of disbelief considering the rollercoaster that is your life. “It still has the same effect,” you mumble, croissant long forgotten.

You think that you want to cry again, but Atsumu’s grinning and you feel breathless.

It’s like mercy that greets you after you think you’ve done nothing but sin—you’re breathless but your lungs feel full.

So it’s Atsumu walking up to you, looking at you like you’re his daydream, saying “Hi Lena, what’s your name?” that grounds you back to the earth after freefalling from the summit.

The world has always looked different from the view at the very top, and even if you closed your eyes throughout the fall, there was a certain comfort you realize only now and that’s the fact that the whole time you were falling—it was the sky that held on to you and never let you go since.

“Hi ‘Tsumu,” you say back, closing your eyes when you lean in halfway as he reaches forward and pulls you the rest of the way, towards him—towards love, and towards home.

“I’m sorry I don’t have something with me right now to give you,” you mumble out anyway, and your heart bursts at the feel of his hand stroking the back of your hair, as his voice anchors you down again to keep you from floating right by your ear.

He kisses your eyelids, then your forehead, and the white noise of New York has you feeling both connected and safe.

“You’re okay,” he says. “You’ve always got me like how I’ve got you, and I’ve never thought there was anything more that I could try to ask for other than that.”

“You are everything that love will always ever be and that’s it for me, Len.”

He smiles, and while things still don’t fully click into place because healing has a habit of doing just that—you also let yourself feel the lightness of just this.

“You don’t need to do anything. I got you,” he says. “You got me too,” he reassures, and you believe him.

[suganovakawa]

Hello I wanna say that I love ur work 🥺 I’m new to the haikyuu fandom and ur work gives me life! Can I request a HC with Tanaka, Daichi, Suga & asahi and how they would react when they see other teams at a tournament flirt with you and how they act when they’re jealous? Thank you !

absolutely omg i love my karasuno babies and them being jEALOUS??? this is my calling goodBYE

btw btw welcome to the hq fandom bby !! enjoy your stay here 🥺💞💘💓

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅 !

karasuno boys fend off other teams as they try to flirt with you !

— check out my masterlist !!

these boys don’t take too kindly to other teams trying to flirt with you . . . and they’re not gonna deal with it for much longer ! >:)

a / n : jealous anything >>>> and you cannot change my mind because it’s my weakness k thx bye 🥰

— ask to be added to my taglist !!

taglist : @yams046 @janellion

ryuunosuke tanaka

lmao flirting w you is like asking for a death sentence i do not make the rules

tanaka is not afraid to show you off , nor is he afraid to show off your guys’ relationship at tournaments either

he has full trust in you dw , but that doesn’t mean he trusts the men that get a little too close for comfort

if his death glare alone doesn’t scare them off i feel so sorry for them

ryu will 100% call someone out if they’re obviously flirting with you

“ hey , punk ??? you’re trying to flirt with them , huh ??? gotta tell ya , you’re out of luck , go find someone else . this hot stuff right here is mine , thank you very much . ”

he gets so confused when you get embarrassed because what ??? he’s just telling them the truth

“ ryu ! you can’t just call me ‘ hot stuff ’ in the middle of the gym !! ”

“ why not , baby ? you are hot stuff ! they’re just bummed out you’re not theirs . ”

not to mention , 8 times out of 10 noya will probably be right there with tanaka scaring off the suitors

those two are literally your bodyguards , and once they know that someone else has their sights set on you , do not expect them to leave your side

also , he holds a FULL GRUDGE against ladies men type people

cough cough tooru i’m talking bout u bby

you are to stay a mile away from oikawa and all of aoba johsai at all times , ryu will not accept otherwise

oh , and terushima ??? YEAH HES NOT EVEN GONNA LAY EYES ON YOU ONCE LMAO

at least , not without tanaka’s arm wrapped around your waist

gotta make sure they understand you ain’t on the market

all in all a very protective baby crow , can and will fight anyone who tries flirting with you so pls don’t test him

daichi sawamura

daichi is definitely the silent but deadly type let me assure you

i don’t care where that man is , he’ll always have an eye on you regardless

oh and he’ll probably have the rest of his team have their eyes on you too ; just in case there is a small instance where he can’t keep his eyes on you

yuu , ryu , and shoyo will be paying the most attention to you when the captain is not able to watch over you at the tournaments

lord have mercy to those who somehow actually get past daichi’s security

my best guess is that you’re probably on like , a water bottle run in between games , so that everyone can have fresh cold water during timeouts n whatnot

yeah you’ll probably get hit on by another guy in the halls ( let’s pretend it’s yuuji because i love him so much LMAO pls hit on me teru )

anyway he’ll def be at your neck like how he was tryna get kiyoko’s number

sadly you can’t do much because you have a bunch of water bottles in your hands so you’re just tryna shimmy away but terushima is not having it

out of nowhere his face blanks

literally pales

you’re about to ask him what that’s about until you feel an arm snake around your waist

like i said , the silent but deadly type

you can’t see daichi’s face as he’s staring down yuuji , but you can hear the annoyance in his voice

“ oh there you are , y/n . you need help carrying these water bottles , baby ? ”

you turn to yuuji , who has his hands up — clearly getting the message daichi was giving to him

“ alright alright , my bad ~ ! didn’t know they were yours , man . i’ll take my leave . ”

but he did add a “ see you later cutie ” before leaving the two of you alone

you couldn’t help but laugh as the captain latched onto you protectively as the two of you went back to the gym

“ daichi , it’s okay , he’s gone now ! you’ve done your job in saving me ”

“ nonsense . i can sense their eyes on you from everywhere . you’re not leaving my sight again , y/n . ”

koushi sugawara

koushi is definitely also a silent jealous type

but he’s more mellow when showing it subtly

but don’t get me wrong , the effect it leaves on others is just as menacing

he’s the type to leave that shiver of fear when he shows up

basically he’s a sweetie until people mess with you and that’s just on periodt

suga is not too protective over you , since he does trust you and has full confidence you won’t do anything to hurt him

cough cough he still wants the other nasty boogers keeping their hands off you though

i literally just imagine him going up to people like “ :))))) ??? ” when people try flirting with you LMAO

like ?? no ??? they’re ??? mine ????

not ???????? yours ??????

he’ll have that chilling ring in his voice that’s deadpan but menacing at the same time — sometimes he even scares you with it

you had a run in with tooru at the preliminaries , RIP bless his soul

you went to go watch a match while karasuno was resting ; seijoh was resting at the same time

he got a little too close for comfort in the audience stand

flashed you a famous smile of his , “ what’s a cutie like you doing here alone ? ”

“ she’s not alone , actually . ”

KFKKDKFKFKD both of your heads went a whole 180 at the sound of koushi’s voice

oh no he had that creepy smile again

“ baby , we were just looking for you . is oikawa bothering you ? ”

he turned his :) to tooru , who had already stepped a decent distance away from you

“ heaven forbid you’d be bothering y/n , oikawa , when you have a whole fanbase of girls you could be bothering instead . ”

the great king had never been so scared of a karasuno player in his life

he left in a hurry without saying much — though he was grumbling something you two couldn’t understand

switch from scary suga to soft suga uwu

he wrapped his arms around you and grinned pleasantly this time as he hugged you

“ sweetheart , don’t hesitate to tell me if anyone else is like that to you , okay ? i’ll make them go away . ”

“ koushi , you’re so scary when you’re angry ”

“ i am ? i didn’t think i was ”

“ look at how oikawa backed away when you came up ! hardly anyone can phase him ”

“ oh . maybe i am scary , but only when it comes to you . ”

he laughed and took you by the hand , and you two walked back to the rest of the team

scary suga never fails to keep the nasty boogers away

asahi azumane

he won’t even realize he’s jealous until someone points it out to him

i think nishi would be the one to point it out to him , because woah asahi looks mad

“ yo , asahi ? you good ? your knuckles are turning white ! ”

he’s been looking your direction ever since the date tech players started surrounding you , striking up conversation

he didn’t even realize yuu was talking to him until he literally had to jump up and wave in his face

asahi snapped out of it once noya caught his attention — his fists were still clenched tho

“ oh — noya . i’m fine , why ? ”

the libero didn’t buy it one bit because he didn’t know the ace even had it in him to be angry

he looked to where asahi had his eyes on the whole time before turning back to the third year with a smirk

“ you’re gonna let them just flirt with y/n like that ? what kind of boyfriend are you ? go go go ! ”

oh no yuu what did you do

“ they’re flirting with y/n ? ”

he was f u r i o u s at the thought of it

oh no no no they were not going to be flirting with you , not while asahi was your boyfriend no sir

he stormed over towards you — your back was towards karasuno so the date tech players noticed him first

asahi + scary dark death glare = run

and the date tech players — besides aone — did just that , scampering off in a hurry

you were confused until you turned around , smiling when you saw your giant teddy bear of a boyfriend

you were utterly oblivious to the stare down between him and aone

“ asahi ! shouldn’t you be practicing now ? ”

he placed a gentle but firm arm around your waist , pulling you closer to him without taking his eyes off date tech’s ace

“ yeah , but we were looking for you . i’ve come to bring you back , y/n . ”

oh heck yeah there was tension as he brought you back to your guys’ court

“ those players weren’t flirting with you , were they y/n ? ”

“ huh ? oh no ! i was just catching up with a couple of them , since i went to middle school with some of them . why ? ”

“ oh , nothing ”

you couldn’t even ask him anything else as he walked away without another word , which was very not like him

you had to get the answer from nishinoya later on , who was laughing hysterically at your description of the way your boyfriend was acting

“ OMG Y/N HE REALLY WAS JEALOUS , I TOLD HIM THAT DATE TECH WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU I CANT BELIEVE HE BELIEVED ME ”

after the tournament both of you were blubbering apologies to each other

you apologizing for making asahi jealous

and asahi apologizing for acting like a brat about it

in summary , asahi + jealousy = pls save yourself from that man he is terrifying

he’ll make it up to you with tons n tons of cuddles later so he’s still your big teddy bear <3

[cool-the-binge-eater]

Apothecary Diaries - manga rec

Summary

Before it had an English name I just called it Kusuriya no Hitorigoto. It's about mao mao who was forced by kidnappers to be a court maid. A plain freckled girl who is nonchalant about it but misses working as a doctor assistant for her father.When the high ranking court ladies babies come down with an illness that others deem a curse mao mao figures out the cause. Trying her best not to get stuck in court drama squabbles only leaving a note on the cause. However a eunuch named jinshi figures her out and is forced to solve palace mysteries while also working as poison tester. (it's fine she likes to test poisons on herself)😓 So basically Chinese historical story that deals with harem life that's also a detective and medical story. So their are modern conventions and solutions that we take for granted that are used as solutions in the story. That’s the draw of alot of time traveling stories but since its not we don’t get an outsiders perspective about what we would consider wrong. Maomao has resigned herself to whatever happens to her and dosen’t fight the system directly but she still has a strong sense of justice.

Maomao- the pharmacist

Maomao is the protagonist /pov chara and is the main reason you read the story she's very eccentric when it comes to medicines and poisons but is actually very quick witted and emotionally intelligent. She's a realist and down to earth often thinking little of herself. Maomao has resigned herself to whatever happens to her. She knows she's smart and might be toooo smart. Her only motivation is medcine so political infighting and conspiracies is the opposite of that. Whenever her sense of justice shows up it really bursts and it's great to see💖😊 Even though she pettite skinny and a commoner whenever she decides to do something it really feels like she's risking her life.Also aro/ace representing she really dosent care about much except medicine.💞

Jinshi -Eunuch

He works as a foil to maomao becasue hes a born noble, the boss of her and is one of the most conniving characters. His personality starts off as a sadist/playful tease but eventually really cares for maomao in the story as he gets to know her better. Jinshi is the one who presents the issues to maomao and is the one withe the authority to give her tools to solve the cases.He's obviously hinting at maomao alot but she dosent get it or doesn't care.His job is to work in the harem and to do whatever the emperor requests if him. He's the most beautiful person in the story and alot of woman and men want him. He drinks this a medicine that make him more eunuch like to maintain that appearance. The reason why we don't know and his backstory is one of the big mysteries.

Setting

It's not a specific year which is good Apparently mongels are still a problem and they can keep in contact with the west if they want. Historical Chinese dramas I guess 🤷‍♀️. Politically ppl dislike the last emperor and just over a decade before slavery was abolished. U can technically sell family members tho if ur poor. Maomao was sold as a palace maid and all her earnings go to her "family". In fact most of the maid charachters are the same way.So some cultural things need to be addressed if your new to court drama. Honestly it's a cliche for me cuz I watch alot of Asian dramas but others might not.

In the palace we have the outer court that does real work like paper work and women can join the outer court but they are akin to secretaries. I think they dislike inner court ladies cuz they had to take a test (Also technically maids but they don't do the best job compared to inner court ladies). The inner palace only has women and they are all concubines for the emperor. There have been cases of maids becoming lower ranked concubines if they were pretty. 4 great positions are taken by great noble ladies and their families. These 4 ladies each have their own palace and are the ones most likely to become empress/create heirs.

Hanmachi/red light district is a big part of the story. Mao mao was raised there and is the 2nd location the story takes place. It's both a beautiful gorgeous palace and a dark dangerous alley. Maomao says that the brothels are both a cage and a Wall that protects them from the streets Maomao isn't a courtesan but was raised with her 3 big sisters the 3 princesses of Rokushoukan. All high courtesans need to learn to dance, play instruments, talk, play go or other board games and read. Men don't usually get to sleep with high courtesans and it dosent work on all girls but the more pure you are to get the higher the price.

BTW we never go to them but there are brothels that are lecherous, and there are cases of rape within that district and maomao has almost been in that situation which also hasn't been shown.

Adaptations/art

There are like 3 types of versions of the story for some reason. There are 2 mangas and the og light novel. The mangas not done but maybe the first one went in a different direction of the novel 🤔 idk??? I've read a little bit about the the light novel but honestly not that different. Mao mao is a very introspective charachter she has alot of thoughts and won't say alot of her thoughts or feelings due to fear of nobility or just laziness.

So the manga makes her alot more expressive while keeping her introspective thoughts. She can be very funny and comedic with her expressions. Later on when she gets stitches they keep reopening(she just roles with it and everyone gets freaked out for her)

The 2nd manga makes mao mao her personality more serious and aparently there's less emphasis on romance. Only 1 volume so can't judge on much. (Only read 2 chapters) so I'm gonna talk about the 1st manga.

(Light novel, Kusuriya no Hitorigoto manga and Mao Mao no Kōkyū Nazotoki Techō manga)

The art is really good what happens alot in shoujo series set in harems or inner courts. Is that the women are not hot they can be beautiful, pretty even but they really aren't hot.

But damnnnnnn all the girls are 🔥🔥🔥

Specifically the hanamachi ones and even maomao herself sometimes. Lol 😆 I'm gonna stop now

But seriously I like how they talk about sex, prostitution and harems. Alot of shoujo are so PG about a place that is notorious for sex work.

Last minute thoughts

Check it out there's 2 manga volumes out and more coming. (Or read the scanlations I did both)

I like jinshi when he gets jealous since he's so cool and in control alot seeing him flounder about with mao mao is fun ❤

Maomao has a pretty interesting past too and it's hinted at really early there's this guy she definitely dosent wanna meet in the outer palace (that's my hint for foreshadowing) 🤐

I would read the light novels if ur like dying to know the plot the manga is a monthly series (I won't cuz I'm lazy)

Previous emperor is a pedo current one is a dick. So yea royal family sucks what's new 🙄

[lillywillow]

From Russia With Love

Summary: When Steve and Bucky investigate an old HYDRA base left over from World War II, they find something nobody could have ever predicted... A pilot from the legendary 588th night bomber regiment frozen in time.

 Word Count: 2117

 Square Filled: Military Base

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: WWII warfare, slight angst

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 Author’s Note: Although I will be using real historical people and events, some of the names and actions I will be using are fictional. The 588th night bomber regiment were an all female squadron from Russia in World War II. They were given hand-me-down men’s uniforms and poor, outdated equipment. Their planes were not designed for combat. The planes let out a whistle as it idled through the sky which the German’s thought sounded like a broomstick, giving them the nickname ‘Die Nachthexen’ or Night Witches.

 Germany, 1944. Three Polikarpov U-2 biplanes move silently through the night sky, their engines cut at the behest of the navigators. A soldier was making his rounds about the perimeter of the base when an unearthly scream pierced the air. A chill ran down his spine as he looked around. Suddenly, a shadow of a plane darkens the ground. The soldier abruptly realised what was happening.

 “Die Nachthexen!” he screamed. The base was rapidly brought to life with activity when the air raid siren wailed. Soldiers rushed to man the anti-aircraft guns as the Night Witches dropped the first bomb. Two of the planes broke formation to draw away the ground fire as the third dropped the next bomb. The last plane made a sharp turn and was able to drop the last bomb on the base. With their mission complete, the engines went back on and the planes headed home to Russia.

 Out of nowhere, a German fighter plane appeared. The biplanes were slower but their much smaller size gave them an advantage in the fact they had a tight turning ratio but for one plane, it wasn’t enough. One of the pilots cried out in pain as a bullet grazed her arm. The canvas wings of the plane were ablaze, there was no other option but to bring the plane down. The navigator held the pilot’s shoulders to steady her as they crashed into the ground.

 Dazed by the impact, the pilot held her head, feeling something wet and warm drip down her face. She turned behind her to check on her navigator whose head was slumped to her chest. She reached for her hand.

 “Yelena... I’m sorry...” Black spots swam in her vision before the darkness took over.

...

Germany, present day. Steve and Bucky were called on a mission to investigate what was possibly a HYDRA base left over from WWII. On their way in, they noticed the remains of a downed plane a few miles out from the base that nature had taken over in the course of sixty years give or take. On the surface, it had the hell bombed out of it. Steve managed to find a charred door in amongst the wreckage and went in, Bucky following behind. Underground was a rabbit warren of rooms and passageways, their secrets lost to time, waiting to be uncovered.

 “We should split up,” Steve said, getting out his flashlight. Bucky nodded and got out his own. The duo headed in, checking each and every room for anything that might be of HYDRA origin.

 This place gave Bucky the creeps and bad memories began to invade his mind; memories of when he lost his identity of Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes and given the new one of The Winter Soldier. Room after room they looked in until Steve found something.

 “Buck, you gotta see this...” Bucky made his way to where Steve called him to and whatever he was expecting, this was not it. The room was still lit with sickening fluorescent lights. In the back corner, there were two pods. One was empty, whatever test subject it held was long gone. The other had a woman still cryogenically frozen inside. Bucky placed his right hand on the glass.

 “She’s just like me...”

 “Think you can make sense of these?” Steve asked, holding up a dusty file written in German. Bucky picked them up and read through the notes. It stated the woman’s name and why she was there. There was also information on a second woman, presumably whoever was in the second pod. Apparently, they were going to be used for a programme akin to the Winter Soldiers or the Red Room but the project had been scrapped and only one of the subjects was moved.

 “I’m going to let Fury know what we’ve found.” Steve headed out to make the call but Bucky stayed behind. He couldn’t leave this woman all alone now that he knew she was there.

...

 Feeling a pounding in your head, you opened your eyes. Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You appeared to be back in your base. Funny... you didn’t remember making it back. The last thing you remembered was crashing after completing a mission. Was a rescue sent out and that’s how you got here? You spotted another woman in one of the other beds. Steadily, you got up and went over to her.

 “Come on, Yelena. We’ve got another mission,” you said, shaking her shoulder. As she sat up, you immediately noticed that this was not your navigator.

 “You’re not Yelena...”

 “No, I’m a new recruit. My name is Natalia Romanova,” she replied in Russian.

 “Well I hope you’re a quick study, Natalia. Major Bershanskaya will not make things easy for you. Now get ready. Training for you starts now.”

 As you got dressed, something struck you as very odd. Your uniform fitted perfectly like it was tailored for you and your boots weren’t oversized. It set off alarm bells in your head but you didn’t want to frighten the new girl. As you headed out, you saw an officer standing and waiting for you.

 “Who are you?” you asked, confused as to why this man would be here, especially one who looked so high up in command. Something else that you noticed was that there were planes around the base.

 “I’m your new commanding officer...” That did it. There was no way your commander would leave her girls. You managed to snatch his sidearm but even faster, Natalia had you in a headlock, one hand holding the wrist you held the gun.

 “Who are you?! Where am I?! What have you done with Yelena?! Where is my navigator?!” The pair exchanged a look and conversed in English, something you didn’t understand.

 “I can explain everything... just give me the gun,” the man prompted. Slowly, you handed him the sidearm which he put away and Natalia let go of you.

 “You have been asleep for over sixty years...”

 “What?! How?! We... we were just there... and... Yelena! Where is she? Is she okay? Is she safe?” The pair exchanged another look.

 “You were the only one we found in the base...” You broke down sobbing and straight away the man held you up as you trembled. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair which you found strangely comforting. How could you have been asleep for sixty years? It was only hours ago you were flying to drop bombs on German bases.

...

 A few hours later, you were sitting by the window of the room which had been set up for you thinking over all the new information which had been given to you. They had given you new clothes but the only ones who spoke your language were the ones you met at the fake base camp. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

 “May I come in?” A male’s voice asked.

 “Yes...” The man who you came to learn was named Bucky walked in with a plate of food.

 “I thought you might like something to eat...”

 “I’m not hungry...”

 “I know what you’re going through but you still need to eat...”

 “How could you possibly know what I’m going through?! Do you know what it’s like to be with friends one minute and find out they’re all gone?! To wake up in a strange place with strange people?! To have no idea what the hell is going on?!” He was quiet for a few moments.

“Actually... I do.” You were taken aback from his response. Bucky sat down on your bed and began telling you his life’s story.

 He told you about his best friend Steve who always used to getting in trouble. He enlisted in the American army the moment he could. His time in the Howling Commandos. About how he fell off the train and became a weapon for HYDRA for decades. As he spoke, his eyes began to ghost over, reliving the old memories that you could see were haunting him. You sat next to him and held his hand. Bucky hastily wiped his eyes.

 “What about you? Tell me your story...”

 You smiled softly. You told him about your father who died defending Osowiec Fortress and how it inspired you to fight for your country. When the call went out for women to fly bomber planes, you and your best friend Yelena Belsky both applied and got in, you as a pilot and she as a navigator. You flew many sorties together. Your commander Major Yevdokiya Bershanskaya was stern but fair with you girls but taught you everything you knew. You spoke about your last mission, the one you were on when your plane was shot down.

 Bucky listened to your every word, looking at you with total admiration. Most of the men looked at you with pity or distain. You couldn’t help but blush a little under his intense gaze.

 “I, um... I think I’ll have something to eat now,” you mumbled, taking the plate he brought with him. “Thank you...”

 “Anytime... if you ever want to talk, you can always come to me. Nat should be available too...”

 “I appreciate that.”

 To Bucky, those memories were a lifetime ago but to you, they were only like yesterday. It somehow felt good to share those stories with someone who understood what it was like to go through the same thing you were.

...

 The months flew by and before you knew it, a year had passed. Between Natasha and Bucky you were now fluent in English. They taught you hand to hand combat and other things you would need to join The Avengers, although, you were pretty much an ace pilot when it came to the jets. Natasha became your best friend and you frequently spoke in Russian with her. You formed a bond with Steve too once the language barrier came down, sharing war stories with each other but the person on the team you were closest to was Bucky. He taught you a lot over the months and it wasn’t long before you started dating. It was inevitable.

...

 One night, you were standing on the balcony, looking at the moon and thinking about that fateful night you were assigned to bomb that base all those years ago. You wondered if your friend was dead or alive. The team had told you they would help you find her, searching all HYDRA archives they came across and Bucky helped you to follow every lead. Your heart hoped for the best but you knew to expect the worst.

 “Hey, Doll.” You turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He walked over to you and put his arm around you, kissing your head. “What’s on your mind?”

 “Yelena... I can’t help but hope that I’ll find her one day. She was like my sister. Natasha has been wonderful, you all have but it’s hard being stuck in the past...”

 “Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered softly. “You know... it’s been just over a year now since we met...”

 “So it has,” you wistfully replied. “Time sure flies...”

 “It sure does... and I don’t want to waste any more of it.” You looked confused as Bucky pulled away from you.

 “When I was called on that mission to uncover an old HYDRA base, I never thought I would meet the love of my life. You’re one of the bravest, strongest, most incredibly women I know. Will you marry me?” Bucky got down on one knee and presented you with a beautiful ring. You couldn’t help but tear up.

 “Yes, Bucky, I will!” Bucky smiled and stood up, sliding the ring on your finger and kissing you.

 Who knew that a German base lost to time would connect two military personals so perfectly together?

[louiseleblancdiggory]

omg can u write a second part to that secret rowaelin / aelins birthday party one shot, I NEED to know how that continues.. and maybe another one shot from when they realised that they're not actual just fuckbuddys but in love ahhhh I love this AU and u writing is so GOOD

I’m so glad you like it!! I was planning on writing the Halloween scene, so I feel like this will end up being a small AU maybe? Like I’ll write the main parts of their story? Who knows. But I will definitely post the Halloween scene and the scene from when things changed... For now, here’s how explaining to their friends went

This is the part one. You really need to read it to understand what’s going on in this scene. 

Birthday revelations 

--

Aelin was frozen.

She was staring wide eyed at all of her friends standing in her living room. Their faces were the picture of astonishment and disbelief. She knew she should go up to them and explain everything but this isn’t how she had planned it out, so she merely snuggled closer to Rowan, his arms tightening around her.

They were so fucked.

“What the actual fuck?” Lysandra said, her voice a mix of perplexity and slight betrayal. “You two… But.. How? When?”

“Aelin, you fucking snake.” Manon said, but Aelin could see the humor gleaming on her eyes and that her smile was genuine. She seemed like the only one not completely pissed. Even Elide looked a little betrayed.

“Bro, you’re banging my cousin?” Aedion’s face contorted with disgust when he looked at Aelin’s bare legs and undoubtedly saw the handprints. Vaughan gave him a slap on the back of his head.

“Aedion, please.” Yrene said, her voice calm but her face a mask of shock as everyone else. “Let them recompose themselves. They obviously weren’t expecting us.”

“What are you all doing here?” Rowan finally said, even though it was obvious what they were doing here.

“What are we doing here? What are you doing here, Rowan?” Fenrys replied, crossing his arms. When Rowan opened his mouth again, Fen raised a hand dramatically. “Don’t answer that truthfully. I don’t want details.”

Aelin’s cheeks were on fire, and Rowan’s arms hugged her a little more tightly.

“Can you guys it down so we can explain?” She said, her voice steady despite how fast her heart was beating.

She didn’t want it to be like this, neither did Rowan. They wanted to sit them all down and explain everything on their terms. Rowan wanted to talk privately with Aedion, and Aelin sure as hell didn’t want Lysandra feeling as if she didn’t trust her. And now they had waited too long and everything went to shit.

Each one of their friends found a place to sit. Manon was sitting on Dorian’s lap, Yrene and Chaol by their side on the sofa. Nehemia and Asterin were on the loveseat, Nehemia’s arm tucking Asterin close. Fenrys and Connall each sat on one of the loveseat’s armrest, Vaughan standing behind Connall.

Lorcan, Gavriel, Sartaq, Nesryn, Borte and Ren took up the chairs by the table. Lorcan pulled a stiff Elide to sit on his lap, whispering something in her ear that made her relax a little.

Lysandra and Aedion remained where they were, arms crossed.

Rowan nudged Aelin forward and they approached everyone. He sat down on an armchair, taking Aelin with him. She could have sworn Aedion flinched at that.

Rowan started to make soothing circles on her thigh, and she held one of his hands with both of hers, sweeping her fingers over his knuckles. Despite it all, Rowan seemed calm.  He was lazily leaning on the armchair, completely content to hold his girlfriend on his lap, play with her thigh and tell all of her friends and her cousin how he had been sleeping with her behind their backs.

“So, you guys are banging.” Asterin broke the silence.

Borte snorted. “Obviously. The girl looks like she just got railed, so unless they play some very wild type of boardgames in her room while in the dark, yes, they are banging.”

“Borte, for the love of god.” Nesryn murmured at the same time Sartaq said, “Borte, shut the fuck up.”

Rowan sighed, deeply and suffering. “Yes, we are…”

“Banging.” Nehemia added.

“Can we please stop using the word ‘bang’?” Chaol muttered.

“Pardon.” Nehemia looked at him impatiently. “Fucking, then.”

Chaol rolled his eyes and Aelin couldn’t help but snort.

“How?” Dorian asked, his voice dripping disbelief. After Lys, Dorian was probably the person who heard Aelin complaining about Rowan the most.

Despite herself, Aelin found herself saying, “You want to know how we fuck?”

Rowan, Vaughan, Manon and Asterin were the only ones that laughed.

“I thought you hated each other.” Fen said, his brows furrowing.

“They did. I remember High School junior Aelin running after Rowan with a knife with the full intent of killing him.” Connall looked at his brother. “Unless they’re together since then and that was some type of kink.”

“Please, I don’t want to know Aelin’s kinks.” Ren looked pained.

“Please, I don’t want to know about Rowan’s kinks either.” Lorcan added, but his voice was full of humor. The asshole must have been finding this whole situation hilarious.

“Stop using Aelin, Rowan and kinks in the same sentence for the love of god.” Aedion pleaded.

“Let them explain.” Gavriel, always the voice of reason, interrupted.

“It started on Halloween.” She started only to be then interrupted by Aedion.

“You guys have been together for six months and told no one?” His eyes widened. “Oh my god. It was when I told Lin to stay in the apartment, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, and we haven’t been together for six months.” Aelin could feel Rowan losing his patience as he explained their situation. “We slept together six months ago, but it wasn’t anything important. It was just sex then.”

“But not anymore?” Elide asked, her voice low. Something glinted on her eyes.

“That’s impossible. A relationship between them is unbelievable.” Chaol snorted and Aelin felt Rowan’s hand tightening on her leg.

“No.” Aelin shrugged, losing her patience just like Rowan. She could understand them feeling hurt because neither Aelin nor Rowan had told them anything, but acting like her relationship with Rowan was wrong made her stomach turn. “We fucked around a bit. Months, actually. We couldn’t stand each other when we weren’t fucking in the beginning, it was honestly just sex. We didn’t feel like telling anyone because once it ended, we didn’t want things to get awkward. We didn’t want the jokes, or suggestions that we should just date. It was easy and simple and telling other people would make it too real.”

Surprisingly, Lorcan, Nesryn and Connall nodded. Fenrys relaxed, and even Borte was smiling at them the way Manon had since the beginning.

“Lys and Aedion had just started dating then, and they spent most nights in our apartment, so I would come here to see Ace. In the first few nights I would arrive, we would fuck and I would leave. Slowly I started coming earlier and we would eat something. I would spend the night and we would grab breakfast together. We became friends.” Rowan shrugged.

“So you two are fuck buddies?” Ren asked.

“No, things changed two months ago after an… incident.” Aelin said and Rowan squeezed her thigh. Aelin didn’t have to look back to know he was fighting a smile. “But then we didn’t know how to tell you guys that we had been fucking for four months and told no one. Ro thought it was better for the two of us to just sit down and tell everyone at once.”

“Ace thought it would be better if she talked to the girls and I talked to the guys.” Rowan finished for her. The tension from her body had vanished, and she was completely resting her back against Rowan’s chest.

“We discussed it for a month and decided to go with Ro’s idea. But then spring break came and everyone went off to somewhere else. We decided to tell when everyone was back. We were going to do it this week after my birthday but you guys came here today.”

“So, basically, you guys have been together for six months. One way or another.” Vaughan asked and Aelin and Rowan nodded.

“Hum, good for you.” Manon said, looking at Aelin. Nehemia, Yrene and Asterin nodded, a small smile playing on their lips.

“Is that why you almost kicked me out of here earlier?” Lys asked, genuinely curious. She didn’t look as pissed as she had in the beginning.

“No. I didn’t even know Ro was coming until I opened the door an hour ago.” She sat up, crossing her legs. Rowan shifted slightly to accommodate her on his lap, his hands now on her hips. “I just didn’t want you to ditch a night with your boyfriend to stay home with me.”

Lys nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. Aelin didn’t fool herself in thinking that Lys wasn’t hurt about her silence, but it was good to know her best friend wasn’t majorly pissed.

“So he’s your boyfriend?” Aedion asked her, but his eyes were on Rowan.

Rowan’s voice was hard when he replied for her. “Yes.”

The room was silent until Manon started laughing. And then Yrene, Nehemia and Asterin. Borte and Nesryn cackled, and Lys and Elide shared a knowing smile. The men only grunted.

“Pay up, assholes.” Elide said.

“What?” Rowan and Aelin said in unison.

“Sophomore year of High School Elide said the two of you would end up together at some point. The tension would just build up to a point that the two of you would either cut all ties or would fuck.” Lorcan grunted, taking out his wallet. “The girls agreed with her. The men said you guys would simply start ignoring each other after college. We bet a hundred and fifty each. We would get the money and split so it’s equal to everyone in each team.”

Aelin’s jaw fell. Rowan sat up then, eyes narrowing. “You have a bet of six years on us?”

“Yes.” Elide replied, happily. “And although me and Ms. Galathynius over there will have a chat about your relationship later, I can’t say I’m sad about going home tonight a hundred and eighty seven bucks richer.”

“You have a bet of six years on whether or not we would bang?” Rowan repeated, dumbfounded.

“I thought we agreed to stop using the word bang.” Chaol said.

“Yeah, bro, it’s fuck.” Connall nodded solemnly as he handed his money to Asterin.

“And who says we only have one?” Manon chirped, counting the money Dorian had painfully given to her.

“I hate every single one of you.” Aelin grunted, resting against Rowan’s chest again. She could feel his body shaking with laughter and had to bite her own lip to fight a smile.

“You hate me? I’m a hundred and fifty poorer and my best friend is banging my cousin. This can’t get worse.”

“You’ll have to see them together every day now. And when Aelin spends the night on your apartment or Rowan isn’t home, you’ll know exactly what’s happening.” Fenrys said, his tone helpful.

Aedion merely groaned.

Aelin turned and gave Rowan a quick kiss, getting up to talk to the girls privately. Rowan gave her ass a playful slap, and she heard Aedion groan again. One look at Rowan and he was smiling like a fiend.

Oh he was going to have fun torturing Aedion.

Aelin spent the rest of the night apologizing for her silence and telling her friends what the last six months had been like. She had a feeling Rowan was doing the same with the guys, but probably with a lot less detail if Aedion hadn’t thrown up on the floor yet.

“You’ll have to make up for it.” Elide said, but she didn’t seem pissed. “We understand why you didn’t tell us, but it still hurts a bit.”

“True.” Lys said as the others nodded.

“I know and I’m so sorry. You guys have no idea how many times I wanted to talk to one of you about Rowan or about something I was insecure about, especially when I started falling for him.” The girls smiled softly at that, even Manon. “But it wasn’t my decision alone, and I couldn’t go up to Ro and say ‘hey, would you mind if I told the girls about us fucking because I think I’m falling hard for you and don’t really know how to proceed?’”

Nesryn snorted, and Yrene put an arm around Aelin. “So you really like him, huh.”

Aelin looked over to Rowan. He was smiling at something Fenrys had said and that had left Aedion scowling. “Yeah, I do.” She said softly.

“This is so strange.” Borte murmured to Asterin.

“So…” Nehemia started, and her tone made Aelin snap her eyes back to her friends.

They were all smiling in a scary way.

“Now that we’ve got the forgiveness part out of the way…” Elide continued.

Aelin’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“How’s the sex?” Lysandra finished and despite herself, Aelin felt her cheeks heating. All the girls laughed at that.

“Good.” She answered, then smiled. “Like really fucking amazing. Best lay of my life.”

“We agree with Fenrys and we do not want details but…” Manon said. “You can be more specific.”

All the women nodded eagerly and Aelin laughed.

She quickly looked at Rowan before telling her friends exactly how Rowan had discovered every bit of her body and soul in the last six months.

She told them of the fighting. The befriending. The falling. 

She told them how she was still falling, head first into the L-word zone. 

She told them how she couldn’t be happier she was falling.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan

[vampiresuns]

Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva

Anatole has changed a bit as a character since i was around the first time, so he’s getting re introduced. His open to make friends.

art by @elizastarkart​

Name: Aelius Anatole Radoševic De Silva. He has two surnames because his mother is latina. He is a mixed Latine-Slav, with family that is all latine, vesuvian, and slavic. People he’s friend’s with call him Anatole (russian/greek pronunciation, he doesn’t acknowledge the French one). Only people he has a strictly professional relationship with, and his uncle call him Aelius.

‘Aelius’ means sun, while ‘Anatole’ means sunrise. He’s fully aware of this, he chose his name himself.

His nicknames are:

‘Nana’ is the most common nickname, and the one most people use.

His mother calls him Lilito, Nana, Nanito, Toly, Tolito, Tortolito.

His father calls him Lily or Lilu.

Toly, Tolytoly or Tolito are nicknames used by his maternal grandmother, his aunt, and his Vesuvian family.

He will not mind if you want to call him Toly, but you cannot call him Lily/Lilu if you’re not his father.

Asra came up with Nanatole, which he doesn’t like but lets Asra call him anyway. Asra also came up with Nana Banana and that is absolutely forbidden.

Family: on his father’s side both the Radošević, who are slavic (yugoslavic, specifically), and the Cassano, a prominent Vesuvian family who has had a hold of the Consulship for years.

On his mother side, the De Silva.

His father’s name is Vladislav, but everyone calls him Vlad, he’s an alchemist, a polymath, and works in what is most similar to biochemical engineering. He has one bother, named Valeriy, who you, however, might now as Valerius. Vlad’s biggest personality trait is being head over heels in love with his wife, and adoring his son more than he thought it was humanly possible to care about someone.

His mother’s name is Louisa De Silva (if you want to add her mother’s surname, it’s Lascal). The L-o-u spelling was a registry mistake she never changed. She moved half across the world while her native country suffer a military-civilian dictatorship to study Medicine. She swore never to go back as long as vestiges of said dictatorship remained in the country. She has two sisters: Paris, who lives in Vesuvia, and Alma, who remained with her parents out of her own choosing. Her medical experience include having been a volunteer war doctor. She didn’t change her surname when she got married.

The Radošević (pronounced Radozheveech) and the Cassano have been entangled families by friendship for generations upon generations, with some marriages between them. Notoriously: Vlad and Val’s father married a Cassano, Matilda, and his bother Mircea, Anatole’s great uncle, also married a Cassano: Florentino. Mircea’s brother and Matilda Cassano died when Vlad and Val were children still, so him and Florentino brought them up.

The Radošević are an overall eccentric family (think the european Addams family), whom are noted for: one, their self-sufficiency/self-preservation, which comes out in a very ‘eccentric people of the world unite’ manner. They appreciate people with character. Two, their leanings towards trades/professions, they do not conceive not doing anything (work hard to play hard). The Cassano, while sharing the quirk, they add the zest for life. It’s like they grabbed the Radošević and told them “you have forgotten how to live and we will remind you how.” Both of them are ridden with racially ambiguous bastard you cannot kill in any way that matters. They simply refuse to. Someone (either the courtiers or Lucio) compared them to roaches, they took it as a compliment.

This will tell you a lot about Anatole’s character.

On a last note, Anatole’s an only child. He has a good relationship with his parents, albeit marked by a sense of distance, solely because he was privately tutored from age 15 and on, which required him to travel a fair share. He was an argumentative teenager, but always cherished whenever he could see his parents. The older he gets, the closer they all become.

Favourite Food: Cake

Favourite drink: Coffee, in general.

Favourite Flower: Iris

Birthday: Nov 1st

Age: 29 (I calculate his age as if he had been born in 1991)

Zodiac:

Sun: Scorpio

Moon: Virgo

Rising: Libra

Mercury & Mars: Scorpio

Venus: Virgo

Patron arcana: Strength & Ace of Swords

Strength

Upright: inner strength, bravery, compassion, focus, Reversed: self doubt, weakness, insecurity      

Ace of Swords

Upright: breakthrough, clarity, sharp mind, Reversed: confusion, brutality, chaos

MBTI Type: INTJ-A

Gender: Transmasculine, but Nonbinary. Uses He/Him pronouns only

Orientation: Identifies as NBLM.

LIs: Julian, Muriel, @ilyamatic​‘s Andrico, @thelazaretmakesmesad​‘s Vishal.

“The sun-like strategist with a solution for everything, and a whole lot of hope in the future.”

More details under the cut!

Physical appearance:

art by @lesbianarcana​

5′4. As you can see in the sprite down below, while he’s slim but with muscle, out of doing a moderate to high level of physical activity. The man has a nice waist and inherited his mother’s hips, which he’s very proud of. He likes his legs and his butt the most about himself

Dark brown eyes, long eyelashes. His hair is naturally black, but he dyes it blond.

Has a mole over his right eyebrow, on the left side of the bridge of his nose, and on his left jaw. He has freckles.

An horizontal scar on his nose, which he got by getting hit with a wooden scaffold square in the face. His nose wasn’t broken out of sheer dumb luck. He has a smaller cut on his cheekbone, which was done by a fencing sabre which lacked the proper tip protection/button. It was done onto him by someone else.

The nose scar is how he met Julian before the plague, as he was the doctor which cured his face.

He has several tattoos:

Right arm: A rapier on his inner forearm. Over his elbow he has a black work band, and over it the words ‘THE SUN IS MY UNDOING’ in all caps, circling his arm.

Left arm: a snake wrapped around his forearm, near to the wrist. The Odyssey quote ‘let’s have a toast to the incompetence of our enemies’ under the inner crook of his elbow, and a floral half sleeve.

Chest and Torso: AMOR OMNIA VINCIT over where his heart is supposed to be. He has laurel leaves on the base of his waist.

Legs: ‘o serpent heart hid with a flowering face‘ in his upper, inner thigh, like really up his left inner thigh. A floral anklet on his right ankle.

Languages Spoken: Too many. He speaks nine languages.

Magic Specialities: His magic is connected to both light and languages (it is a play on words with ‘logos’) so he is both adept in photokinesis — he is able to create and manipulate sources of light — and language related magic — which includes incantation and language manipulation. He learns languages as a faster rate than most people, and while he cannot speak or literally understand a language unless he learns it, his magic allows him to intuitively grasp the meaning of words that are being spoken to him.

This capacity also makes him very good at recognising hidden intentions in people. This is not an ability that he broadcasts having, and when he later succeeds Valerius as the Consul, it is something which aids his diplomatic work but he keeps private.

His words tend to carry more weight sometimes because of his magic, something which he can’t always control — it depends on many factors — so he tries to choose his words carefully and with consideration.

His familiar is a Raccoon, named Antu.

Occupation: While he did study magic and is in touch with his magic, he studied politics, diplomacy and international relations. By trade, and out of will to help people, he is a political analyst and, later in life, a Statesman.

Personality/Trivia:

Willpower or Stubbornness? Depends how you look at it. Passionate, generally devoted, hopeful, independent and sometimes defiant. He is a people-oriented introvert. Competitive, but not aggressively so.

Smarter than he gives himself credit for. Overall charming, even debonair.

Curious by nature, hates having his decisions taken for him.

He is proper, sometimes even distinguished, but he is feral. A firm believer in being kind and compassionate with people, until you cross him one too many times, then nothing will make him taint his vindictive wrath.

Is he humble? For the most part. His humbleness comes from knowing his own limits and knowing he’s not infallible. He does have, however, a good deal of pride in himself and trust in what he can do, and he doesn’t like being underestimated.

He’s not particularly loud, though when the chatterbox is on, then it is on, specially if he’s nervous. He is often never still. 

He’s known he has ADHD since he was seventeen.

Likes dancing.

He fences, almost every Radošević fences/sword fights, and he will let you know at the slightest chance. Which can be either him simply being hyper-fixated in fencing, him flirting, or him letting you know that if the occasion rises, he’s armed.

Friend shaped, lover shaped if you’re daring enough.

He wrinkles his nose when he doesn’t like something.

Speaking of which: he doesn’t like abuse of power, the Court, injustice, supremacists of any kind, unkind, hurtful and selfish people in general; he doesn’t like red meat (he says it tastes like metal or dirt), narrow minded people, incompetence, specially when displayed by people in positions of power, and purposeful apathy.

A mastermind archetype, but he draws his power from connection. He does not conceive a life not lived with others.

A bit of a bastard, he enjoys a good laugh.

He plays the piano and the harp, he sings, he cannot draw, he’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol (which doesn’t really stop him), he likes the opera because he likes watching other people’s drama without being dragged into it, and his favourite season is winter. Also likes playing chess, reading, coffee, flowers, a well tailored outfit, learning, languages, the sea, mysteries, winter, a well laid argument, collecting quills, music, winning, knowing he loves and is loved in return.

When he was 7 he bribed his dad for more dessert, and he ate so much he vomited. His sweet tooth hasn’t gone anywhere, it is alive and well.

Perceptive little bastard, will knife cat you for the sake of it. He has a way more present sense of humour than what he comes across.

Would call himself a ‘trans masculine Mary Poppins’.

He is closest to his parents, his uncle, my other ocs Leonore, Medea and Sabine, his cousins Amparo Cassano and Milenko Radošević, Natiqa, Asra, Portia and Nadia.

If he liked women, he would be paired with Nadia. The possibility both terrifies and fascinates me.

@ilyamatic​, @viviae​, @gaybirdwrites​, @arcanaprentiss​ @apprenticeofcups​

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 8 (Kiro) Part 2 [Scramble] & [Bad Signs] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For the previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 8: Part 1

Enjoy~

[Scramble]

Tomorrow is Kiro’s new song conference.

This will be Kiro’s first public appearance since the “black powder incident”.

There are still many things to prepare and Kiro’s plan to “disappear out of thin air” has been resolved and things are on track again.

Such an ordinary and busy life makes me feel a long-lost sense of peace.

At 7 o’clock in the evening, I opened the door of the office and put my coffee and supper for overtime work on the table, but found that everyone was gathered around watching something.

MC: What’s going on?

Kiki: A large passenger plane almost crashed.

Kiki spoke and pointed to the live video taken by a witness on the screen.

Kiki: I heard that the aircraft was affected by strong air currents which caused the aircraft’s instruments to malfunction. During landing, it almost ran off the runway. Look, it’s so thrilling!

MC: Are there any casualties?

Willow: Although it landed safely, there is probably still some psychological aftermath.

Willow: By the way, boss, didn’t you also go to the airport today? Didn’t you know how serious it was?

I took the newspaper and scanned the headlines that were in bold.

“Fright in the air—Captain Evolver turned the tide and saved 189 passengers”—Was it that serious?!

Kiki: In fact, it is also a good thing. The relationship between ordinary people and Evolvers was so tense some time ago. This news can ease the relationship.

Kiki: Oh yeah, boss, here is the venue layout for the new song conference. You can take a look.

Kiki’s words brought me back to the present, and I took the plan from her.

The company attaches great importance to this event and has specially contracted the central square with the largest traffic in the city center and selected 3000 fans to participate in this new song launch event.

The surrounding LED screens and bus stations were all taken over by Kiro advertisements and even the subway stations printed the promotion of Kiro’s new song release in advance.

MC: Our security measures must be handled well, and there must be no mistakes and follow-up propaganda must be kept up while the iron is hot.

MC: Wait a minute, what’s that webpage right there?

Kiki: Oh, this—

Willow: …Don’t look at it, boss.

I didn’t listen and grabbed the mouse and clicked on the webpage. As soon as I looked, the huge bold words caught my attention.

“Freshly released--11th Annual Lightning Protection Ranking for Media Graduate’s Employment”

Kiki: Boss, your approval rate is only 10%.

Willow: You have to add the votes cast by a few of us to switch back and forth for you.

MC: ….Why are you so concerned about such boring things!

Willow: Hehe, this is not for you to fight injustice.

Kiki: But don’t worry, as long as Kiro stands on the stage, everything will be fine. He is our ace artist.

I clicked on the comment section of “Miracle Finder” and found that there were still many insults against the show and Evolvers.

Kiki: Speaking of, there was a high school student who came to the company last week and said he was looking for the boss. His words were very intense and I didn’t know why.

Kiki: It could also be affected by recent public opinion to express dissatisfaction with our program.

Thinking of countless harassing calls, rumors from the outside world, obstacles and prejudices during the filming of “Miracle Finder”…

I couldn’t help but clench my fists. Then, my heart ignited an unprecedented fighting spirit.

MC: Alright, it’s time to kick away the negativity and theories that have accumulated before!

The cold light from above shines into the empty, confined dim space. The dark grey staircase in the middle continues to spiral up like a snake sleeping in the shadows.

??: Sir, the undercover agents F-45 and U-2 of the Task Force have died.

??: …Also, the young man said that no more medicine will be provided to us during this time. If we want to trade, we need to show greater sincerity.

Thinking of the dark gray-eyed youth, the reporting man showed fear on his face.

??: …The experimental record of the transaction at the auction is indeed fake and it appears to be bait released by B.S. itself.

The man in the wheelchair did not respond and seemed not to care about the news reported by his subordinate.

He only looked at the detailed information in his hand.

“The Inverted Smile Film and Television Company’s veteran variety show “Miracle Finder” has reached a new record. The company and the Task Force have reached a filming cooperation and the crime documentary has been a great success”…

His gaze fell on a line of words, showing a thoughtful expression.

It turns out that the producer who was taken away by the Task Force is also from B.S.

A smiled appeared on his lips and his fingers seemed to tap the handrail lightly in a steady rhythm.

??: Sir, we can’t wait any longer. The organization’s recent actions have been constrained everywhere. We must find the person behind it…..

The man in the wheelchair raised his head and looked at his subordinate gently.

??: Don’t worry, there is still plenty of time.

??: When the fish bites the hook and jumps out of the water, you will naturally see the person fishing on the other end.

??: Right now, we have found the best fish to bite the bait.

[Bad Signs]

With Kiro’s return, my work has been on the right track.

The days seem to blend together and there has been no room for breathing.

Early the next morning, I drowsily walked out the gate of the residence, ready to go to the company.

A newsstand was set up next to the entrance and several people were distributing free newspapers while saying something to the pedestrians passing by.

Enthusiastic woman: Hey, miss, come here.

MC: Ma’am, what is it?

I took the newspaper from her in wonder. My eyes quickly swept across the headlines of today’s news.

“In-depth restoration of airport accident; the flight nearly crashed due to the Captain’s Evol!?!”

I skimmed through the full article and found that today’s news’ explanation of the aviation accident was a big reversal compared to yesterday.

It turned out that the accident wasn’t caused by turbulence, but because the captain’s Evol was out-of-control.

Yesterday’s news was just to quell the recent series of press releases against Evolvers, concealing the facts.

Is that really the case….

Looking at the vicious words above, I frowned slightly.

The people handing out the newspapers yelled the truth about the media’s hidden information while continuing to distribute newspapers to passing pedestrians.

The crowd of onlookers whispered on one side and from time to time, their conversations trickled into my ears.

Passerby A: The truth about yesterday’s emergency landing accident was not what was reported on TV at all.

Passerby B: Obviously this Captain’s out-of-control Evol affected the flight and yet they said he was a hero. I think this kind of person shouldn’t be in this type of industry.

Passerby C: Yeah, Evolvers shouldn’t be engaged in this kind of business when they are responsible for public safety!

The ridicule of Evolvers and the dissatisfaction with the truth about the media hiding things continued on. Some are justified but some are just unfounded.

Hearing everyone’s increasingly violent words, my heart feels weak.

The life that has been calm for a short time seems to have caused waves again.

As soon as I got to the company, my cell phone rang and I saw it was an unfamiliar number.

MC: Hello? May I ask who’s calling?

The other end was quiet for a while, and then I heard a somewhat stiff voice.

??: Cancel today’s event or you will face the consequences.

The person on the other end deliberately lowered his voice but I could still tell that he was a young boy.

MC: Sorry, I don’t understand what you are talking about.

MC: Hello…?

He suddenly hung up.

I was confused and wanted to call back but only the sound of a dial tone was heard.

Getting all kinds of strange phone calls these days, I didn’t pay too much attention to it but I still increased security measures for the afternoon activities.

I put down my phone and looked up at the weather outside the window feeling a little disturbed.

In any case, I hope everything goes well in the afternoon.

On the empty train station platform, a staff member made an announcement, urging passengers to leave.

After confirming that no one remained, he walked out of the kiosk, put a “suspended operation” sign in front of the train and left.

In a corner where no one noticed, the elevator door slowly opened and a thin boy stepped out.

He lowered his head and walked to the car door, slightly raised his hand and the sign was pushed aside.

When he raised his hand again, the train door seemed to be torn open arbitrarily by some force.

The boy went straight in.

The quiet train suddenly rumbled and lurched forward.

-End of Part 2-

Continue to Final Part 

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Fairytale

Warren Worthington III x Female Reader

Request 1: Omg I just read the I have a boyfriend and the opposites attract and I'm aksjksjeje. Idk if ur taking requests, but in case u are I need more on that mother nature reader and Warren pleaaaaseee!!! Maybe something with angst, like some conflict in their relationship, but with a happy would be greatttttt I absolutely love ur writing

Request 2: Hi love!:D idk if you’re taking requests or if you’re in the works of smth, but like, I’ve had this idea in my head about your fic of Mother Nature with what she said about the weather affecting her. Like it’s winter season or smth and the sun has not been out for days (and maybe Ororo is not around to help??) so she’s feeling weak and Warren is doing all he can so she can get better🥺 I reaally love your writing💕 💕

Warnings: swearing and angst

Word Count: 12.5k

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks. We should be back before December 21st.” 

(Y/N) huffed, that was almost two weeks, plus the holidays were coming up. “Stay safe, okay? All I want for Christmas is you.” 

Warren rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, “I already got you a gift.” 

(Y/N) thanked him and he just held her tighter. 

-

Warren went on a mission with Raven, Alex, Kurt, Ororo, and Jean. They were going to Italy to stop some mafia mutant issue. “Which is stupid,” Scott retorted. “We live in New York. Surely the mafia isn’t only terrorizing mutants in Italy.” 

(Y/N) shrugged, “Probably.” 

Her mind wandered as Jubilee talked to Scott about their final for Dr. McCoy. I need to water the plants in the greenhouse. (Y/N) yawned, she felt a sudden wave of drowse come over herself. I’ve been so tired lately… 

It wasn’t a mystery why (Y/N) had been so tired lately. It was because of the weather. The earlier it got dark, the less energy she had— and with it getting colder, her abilities were limited. Most of the plants in her room had gone dormant. (Y/N) was worried she would too, but it hadn’t gotten cold enough. 

“I think we should go skating tomorrow,” Jubilee suggested. 

“Just the four of us?” Peter asked. 

“Do you see anyone else? They’re all in Italy.” Peter squinted his eyes at Jubilee as she was sarcastic. “The rink is open, it’s December, and I’m bored! I wanna pick up cute girls.” 

“Isn’t ice skating like a go-to in Hallmark Christmas movies?” Scott asked. 

“Why do you know that?” Jubilee asked. 

“We watch those all the time on nights with the boys,” Peter explained. “They’re awful and all the same. There was one where a girl was in love with a ghost and another where a girl texted her dead mom to grieve… I’m so lucky I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

(Y/N) laughed, hallmark Christmas films were pretty cheesy and cliche. 

“I mean yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go skating, or do something. Everyone is gone and we need to stay active.” 

Peter and Scott both looked at Jubilee with confusion. “But we’re all in pretty good shape.”

“No, I mean (Y/N),” She whispered to the boys. 

“What’s wrong with her? She looks fine.” Scott said, quickly checking her out as she was preoccupied with her phone. 

“Around winter, she tends to get weaker cause it’s colder and the sun goes down earlier…”

“Yeah… We know…”

“No, you guys don’t get it. During the winter plants go into like, hibernation— and if it gets too cold and (Y/N) falls asleep she’ll go dormant. The only safe places are her room and an area set up in the lab.” 

“We have to keep her awake all winter?” Peter asked curiously.

“No, we just have to make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom and stays there. It’s the only ace place because it’s like a greenhouse sort of…”

“What happens if we don’t?...”

“She could die!” 

“Who could die?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Scarlett Johanson’s stunt-double. I mean have you seen the new Black Widow trailer?” Jubilee asked without missing a beat.

“Eh, I dunno. She’s a professional, plus stunt-doubles are kind of expected to get hurt… while it’s not preferable an innocent gets hurt,... they did sign up for it.” 

“I never thought of it like that…” Scott said almost seeing off-handed while trying to noticeably glare at Jubilee. 

“Well, I’ve got to go. I promised Catherine I’d help make gingerbread cookies.” Everyone wished (Y/N) some form of goodbye, or have fun, leaving them alone.

“(Y/N) is going to die?!” Peter almost screamed. 

“No! No, no— (Y/N) is not going to die. She’s done this longer than I’ve known her. I think she was like, thirteen when these first started happening. I didn’t know (Y/N) until we were 15, but still.” Jubilee continued on,  “She’ll either pass out randomly in the middle of December or January and hibernate until March or April, or she won’t go dormant and just have to spend most of the spring outside, like soaking up the sunshine or whatever. “

“Oh, okay. So this is normal. Great. (Y/N) might fucking die every winter and we just have to act like children on thin ice? Deal with it somehow?” Peter looked like he was freaking out. 

“I said she’s been doing this for years, plus she hasn’t died yet. We’ll be fine.”

Scott’s gut was telling him something different, but he blamed that on his constant anxiety. 

-

Five days after Warren left

(Y/N), Scott, Peter, and Jubilee all went ice skating. Jubilee and Peter attempted to spy on cute girls, while Scott tried to act perfect, and (Y/N) tried her best to not lean against the wall too much. It was fun, but indoor rinks are as cold as the outside ones. (Y/N) bundled up enough, but she still got chills. 

Scott took everyone to some artsy coffee shop that Jean adored. He claimed they had a killer hot chocolate. Jubilee already tried it once before, being Jean’s best friend/roommate. Peter thought it was kind of watery and not that great, and (Y/N) didn’t think it was bad but… 

“You overhyped it. It’s good though.” Scott pouted, and Peter laughed through Twinkie bites and hot chocolate sips. (Y/N) felt warm and fuzzy inside. Almost… sleepy…

Her mind started to drift… Warren… everything they’d do when he got back from Italy… 

Their first winter holiday together… all the shitty hallmark movies we can watch with Scott and Peter… the—

“(Y/N)!”

“Huh?!” She rubbed her eyes and tried to seem awake. “What is it?”

“You were dozing off there,” Scott pointed out. 

“Oh.” She scratched her head. “Sorry. Haha,” Her laugh was somewhat sarcastic. “Just don’t let me, uh… Don’t let me pass out. Wouldn’t wanna get nicknamed Sleeping Beauty.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter joked.

-

Nine days after Warren left

Peter taught everyone, or attempted to, teach everyone how to make a seven-layered cake. Jubilee and Scott kept sneaking batter, while (Y/N) was struggling to not use her powers. 

“Okay, but like, I could get sugar from a plant or—“

“No!” Jubilee protested, batter on the corner of her mouth. “We— we have all these ingredients here. Why waste them?” 

(Y/N) squinted her eyes, they were a bit purple, but she let it slide and grabbed sugar and other dry ingredients from the cabinets. 

“If she uses too much strength she could pass out. It’s been snowing hard for the past two days, and it’s been cloudy all week.” 

“Can’t she eat a protein bar or drink some coffee or something?” Peter whispered. 

Jubilee shook her head, “No, she needs vitamin D. Like, from the sun. More than a normal person does.” 

(Y/N) set the sugar on the counter and looked at the recipe from Peter’s mom, reading bits out loud, “We need 2 and 1⁄4 cups of sugar.” She looked at the measuring cups, trying to find the one she needed. 

“Hey, Scott! We agreed no phones out,” Jubilee scolded him. 

He rolled his eyes, “You sound like a teacher… I was just checking a package I ordered…”

“If you actually bought that $200 lightsaber you were telling me about,” (Y/N) joked, “I will scream.” 

Peter scoffed, “Please, Jean got him that for Christmas.” His face fell soon as the words left his mouth. “Shit…” 

“No, she didn’t. We had a budget and—“ Jubilee and Peter both looked at their feet, eyes wide and sheepish. “I am not worth $200.” 

“You sound like Warren,” Jubilee complained, cracking eggs into a separate bowl. 

“It’s true! I don’t want her to spend money on me.” He glanced at his phone again.

“She’s not going to text you. No one is allowed to bring phones on missions, because the government can like, track you and shit.” Peter reminded him. 

“I know, I know… but what if something happened? What if someone died or they got stuck and stranded and—“

(Y/N) put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “Calm down Romeo. They’re going to be fine. If something happens, Xavier will let us know.” Scott nodded, trying to believe (Y/N) was right. 

-

Fifteen Days after Warren left

(Y/N) was getting sick and tired. Tired of her friends never leaving her alone, the panic on their faces if she so much as yawned or rubbed her eyes, she was sick of them being so nervous. More so Scott and Peter than Jubilee. 

Of course, they meant well, and just wanted to make sure she didn’t fall into a coma, but she didn’t need to be doted over like a tropical plant lost in the arctic. 

(Y/N) huffed as she messed with her hair in the bathroom mirror. Her leaves looked less colorful, more brown and dead, the vines around her legs were gone, and her eyes looked like she hadn’t been sleeping. She had, but it was hard, the sun went down at 5 PM, and it was cloudy and cold every day it seemed. 

I just want Warren here. He’d make everything better. We could cuddle and nap together…

(Y/N)’s turned blue and red as she stopped daydreaming and ran her toothbrush underwater. 

By nature, (Y/N) was not a gossip girl or a secret keeper— people saw her as a Disney princess, a few of the younger students even called her “Mother Nature”... but she had ruined her status by lying to the person she cared about most. 

She didn’t tell Warren about her dormant state, about how she could sleep until possibly March. She wanted to stay awake and active all winter. She wanted to spend her time with her angel. 

But he was in Italy fighting crime, and wouldn’t be back until mere days before Christmas. 

She had to be awake for Christmas and New Year’s. After that, it didn’t matter. 

Wait. Then she remembered Valentine’s Day. 

I have to be awake for that too. And Warren’s birthday… I can’t miss those… She made herself a promise she wouldn’t go dormant this winter. 

She glanced out the window as she scrubbed her teeth with the toothbrush. It was snowing again, thick heavy flakes came down almost in chunks. 

-

Twenty Days after Warren left

(Y/N) accidentally drank out of Peter’s cup without realizing it for about thirty minutes. Why did it matter?

Peter had caffeine in his soda, and (Y/N) did not. She was planning to go to bed in her room, and wake up when the sun rose to conserve energy. 

Now, she was staying up late with her friends, watching some crappy zombie movie on late-night TV.

“They could easily just move to an island. Use the old man’s boat. The zombies can’t swim!” (Y/N) argued during a commercial break. 

“Yeah, but there’s never any logic in these things.” Peter drowsed. 

“I guess so. It’s kind of dumb though…” 

Peter shrugged and took a sip of his drink, “Yeah, but it’s like Sharknado. They make money, it doesn’t matter if it’s bad or not.” 

(Y/N) didn’t retaliate, as the final commercial ended and the screen faded to black, signaling the movie was back on. 

-

Scott couldn’t remember when he fell asleep. He rubbed his eyes and tried to see who was all around him. 

Peter was passed out on the floor for some reason, Jubilee was asleep on one side of the couch… and Scott saw (Y/N), passed out with her head laying on a pillow. 

“Shit! (Y/N)!” He shook her, trying to get a reaction, but nothing happened. He repeated her name trying to undo her slumber until the other two woke. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, hair tussled and eyes half-closed. 

“(Y/N) fell asleep on the couch!” Scott was panicking. He had one job— one job from Jubilee, “Make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom or else she won’t wake up until March.”

 “Scott! Stop it!” Jubilee pulled him away from (Y/N)’s sleeping figure. “You could kill her!” 

“What—” He turned to Jubilee, “What do we do then?” 

“Peter, get Professor McCoy up here.” 

“But it’s 4 AM…” Jubilee gave him a deadly glare and he sped off. 

Scott was ordered to sit and be quiet while Peter got McCoy. 

“She fell asleep. She drank some of my soda earlier, causing her to not be tired. We thought we could get her sleepy by watching a movie, but we all fell asleep before she did…” Peter was giving Hank a 30-second recap, with 3000 words. 

“Peter, everything’s going to be fine.” Hank carefully scooped (Y/N) up in his arms, bridal style. He looked her over up close. Her skin looked pale, the leaves and flowers in her hair were gone, all that was left were dried twigs, and the vines usually wrapped around her legs were concealed by sweatpants, so he couldn’t take note on them. “I’m taking her to the medical bay. Everyone go to sleep, you can come back in the morning…” Hank glanced at the time, “You can come back later.” 

-

The three mutants walked to their rooms quietly. Jubilee made a stop at a bathroom to brush her teeth, while Peter and Scott went straight to their dorm. 

Peter used his speed to get changed and hop in bed. “I’ll leave the light on while you get changed.” Scott didn’t answer, he didn’t move. “Scott?”

“What if she dies?” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Jubilee said she’s been doing this for years, (Y/N)‘s not gonna die.” Scott still didn’t move, causing Peter to sit up and face his roommate better. “Everything will be okay. McCoy knows what to do, and this is no different than when bears go hibernate for the winter or when geese fly south. She’ll be fine.” 

“We don’t know that. If something interrupts her she could die—“ 

“She won’t.” Peter knew he knew, what Scott was thinking. Scott did what anyone would have done. Tried to jostle her awake, he didn’t know what else to do. 

“Do you know what it’s like?...” 

Peter hadn’t the slightest idea what Scott was referencing, he kept his mouth shut, trying to figure it out. 

“To have almost killed someone? Your parents arguing with theirs, lawsuits being threatened, your life could end before theirs and the doctors think they’re on borrowed time… How you know you deserve to be punished, and instead you’re just sent away, to be with more family and start new. You try to be better than you ever were, and people— they believe it. You deserve everything you’ve worked for… and then you go and fuck up! It’s one thing to have your mutation surface and have chunks of ceiling and a bathroom door put a school bully in a coma— but to hurt someone like (Y/N)?...” Scott’s voice trembled. His cheeks were covered in his tears. “If anything happens it’s going to be my fault. Warren’s going to blame me because everyone talks me up about how responsible I am and all these leadership qualities I have, that I actually don’t. Warren is going to kill me if she doesn’t wake up—“ He choked out a sob. 

Peter was quick to wrap the boy in his arms. “Hey, hey… shh… shh… You didn’t hurt her. She’s going to be fine. Hank picked her up and carried her to his lab and she did fine. You shaking her didn’t do anything.” Scott continued weeping. 

“How about you take a shower, and then we can go see her, okay?” Peter talked slower than ever before and with softness, enough to be gentle, but not so much you’d think Scott was a child. 

He nodded, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Okay, come on buddy…” 

-

Hank had carefully dressed her in a hospital gown and hooked her up to various equipment. Everything seemed normal for her coma-like state. He didn’t wake her up carrying her downstairs. 

Hank sat down in a chair next to her. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what to do. 

This had happened before, but Hank just kept her in his lab and he wouldn’t do anything until she woke up. Sometimes students would visit to see how she was doing… Most of the time they’d just whisper and watch her for a few minutes before leaving, some made jokes about how she needed Prince Charming to kiss and wake her up. 

Hank hesitated allowing Charles tell the team what happened. They wouldn’t be back for another week, and he didn’t want to cause a distraction for them. 

“Hey Doc,” Peter waved. Scott was standing next to him. 

Hank quickly put his glasses back on and stood up. “What are you doing awake? You should be asleep.” 

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured we could come by, see how (Y/N)’s doing.” 

“Yeah— she’s doing fine. Vitals are steady and her heartbeat is regular. All we have to do is wait.” Hank faked some optimism. He knew why they were there, and she was fine— except, Hank had no idea when she’d awake. 

“Did you tell Xavier what happened?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, he knows. He said there’s nothing we can do until she wakes up. We have the option to wake her and keep her in the green room, but that’s easier said than done…” Scott looked pale. Hank cursed to himself for freaking the kid out. “Trust me, this is the best option for her.” Scott nodded. 

“Yeah… “ Peter tried to distract him. “Why don’t we eat some leftover cake?” 

“I’m not hungry Pete,” Scott answered.

“Well I am, and you’re not going to mope around down here. It’ll like, give (Y/N) a bad vibe. Come on.” Scott sighed and followed Peter out of the med bay. 

-

Twenty four days after Warren left

Warren was exhausted, Everyone was. The mission went smoothly, or smoothly as it could, considering the number of minor injuries everyone bore. 

“We’ve got a few more hours until we’re home,” Alex announced, checking in on the younger X-Men.

Ororo, Jean, and Kurt were playing go fish. Warren was watching, contributing nothing to the game but sarcastic comments and jokingly-judgemental looks. 

“Great, thanks,” They replied. 

Alex nodded and walked back to his seat in the cockpit. He pulled something small and rectangular out of his pocket. Warren carefully watched from the corner of his eye. 

Is that a cell phone? 

Cell phones weren’t allowed on missions. They were distractions, not to mention out of rage cellular fees were expensive— plus with modern technology comes tracking. Having something as minor as a cellphone on a mission could jeopardize the whole operation simply because someone wanted to use google maps and see where the nearest Starbucks was. 

“Alex?” 

“Yeah?” He stuck the object in his pocket. 

“What is that?” Warren kept his down, as to not alert the others.

“What?” 

“The thing in your pocket. What is it?” 

“Warren—“

Warren was pissed. “It’s a cellphone isn’t it?”

“It’s a burner phone. In case of an emergency—“

“Why’d you take it out?” 

“Hank texted me.” 

“Oh, great.” Warren spat, “You bring a phone on missions in case you miss your little boyfriend.” 

“Warren—“

“No!” He spoke out. At this point, everyone was watching. “You don’t get to break the rules and endanger the mission!”

“Warren, calm down.” 

“You can’t tell me—“ 

“Someone at the mansion got hurt, bird brain. That’s why Alex’s using the burner to text Hank.” Raven rolled her eyes. Dramatic much?

“What?”

No one knew this, not even Jean. They all tuned into the conversation. 

“Who did?”

“What happened?” 

“Everything’s fine.”Alex lied.

“No, it’s not. You wouldn’t be texting Hank if it was.”

Jean discreetly put two fingers to her temple, trying to figure out who got hurt. Raven saw her and glared, mentally telling her to stop.

“Sorry.”

“Everyone settle down. We have a few hours left until we’re back in Westchester. Just chill out until then.” 

Warren rolled his eyes and sat by himself, thinking Raven’s little distraction speech was stupid. 

He couldn’t help it— acting all childish— he missed (Y/N) and he really hated having to share a bed with Kurt on missions. Kurt’s tail got all tangled and Warren’s wings were cramped. 

It was different from when he’d cuddle with (Y/N). He’d wrap his wings around her, and she’d grow flowers in her sleep around them. It was soothing… He’d wake up refreshed, and looking at his wonderful girlfriend. Kurt was… a major downgrade… he was a decent roommate, but he couldn’t stand him as a bedmate. 

Warren yawned, making a note to sleep for ten years and hold (Y/N) while he did it, once he got back home. 

-

The basketball court came into view, and the ground caved in, letting Raven land the Jet in its hangar. Alex announced they were back and free to get off the ship. The rest of the team hastily grabbed their bags and ran out of the X-Jet. 

Outside waiting for them was Jubilee, Peter, and Scott. Hank wasn’t there.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Warren teased Alex. 

He didn’t respond.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Jean mocked Warren.

Warren did a double-take as Peter and Jubilee spoke to Raven and Ororo. (Y/N) wasn’t there. 

“Hey, guys.” The three that stayed behind looked up with guilty expressions on their face as soon as they looked at Warren. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked. 

No answer.

Warren asked again, but more concerned, “Guys, where’s (Y/N)?” 

“She’s not dead—“ Jubilee hit Peter and scolded him.

“What does that mean?” 

The group exchanged nervous eye contact. They weren’t sure how to explain it, but if they didn’t Warren was probably going to attempt murder. 

“She’s in what Hank calls a ‘dormant state’. Basically hibernation—“ Warren’s face visibly paled. “Except waking her up is way more complicated…” 

“So she’s in a coma?...” He asked.

“Yeah, basically…” Jubilee admitted.

“How did this happen?” 

“(Y/N)’s mutation, I thought she told you…”

“Told me what?” Jubilee didn’t answer him. “What, Jubilee?”

Alex put his hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Maybe Hank should explain it…”

-

“So she won’t wake up until March?” 

“April at the latest,” Hank answered. 

“And you let this happen?” He turned to Jubilee, Scott, and Peter. They were terrified of what Warren might do. 

“No, no, they didn’t,” Hank defended them. “Her body just does this. It’s no different than that time of month…” 

“A period isn’t four months long,” Warren mumbled. 

“Let’s give him a moment alone with her.” Hank ushered everyone out, shutting the door behind him. 

Warren sank in the chair next to (Y/N)’s body. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” He mumbled. “Fuck, fuck,” Tears welled in his eyes. “Fuck!” He screamed. He put his fist up to his mouth to muffle his sobs. 

“How could… Why didn’t she tell me?” Warren looked at (Y/N)’s figure. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” 

Warren felt his heart breaking. She looked so… so dead. 

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t dead but she wouldn’t wake until March.

 It was December. 

“Hank said… he said, we could wake you up, but there’s a chance you’ll die. And I’d rather have you like this than dead…” He turned away and mouthed cursed under his breath. 

Warren didn’t know what to do. Sure, he wasn’t necessarily one of those clingy boyfriends, whose only life purpose is to serve his girlfriend… but he really liked her. 

He wanted to spend more time with her than he ever could. She understood when he had nightmares or needed space. They never fought— their biggest disagreement was on a stupid homework problem. 

She made earrings out of some of his metal feathers, he learned how to take care of all kinds of plants. She showed him how to be compassionate and kind, he showed her how to be assertive and throw a decent punch. 

Peter teased him all the time, saying he was “in loooove,” dragged out o and everything. He’d always tell him to shut up or piss off. 

Because maybe he was in love with her. 

“But I’m her first boyfriend.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be her first love.” 

“That means I’ll hurt her…” Warren’s voice cracked. “I don’t wanna hurt her…” 

He didn’t know she’d hurt him.

-

Warren wasn’t allowed to sit at (Y/N)’s side all day, or even all week. He had work to make up for when he was in Italy— homework, mid-terms, laundry, post-mission exam— not to mention Christmas was in five days.

He tried to keep himself busy in the first two days, and he overachieved everything he had to do. Which inevitably, left him with nothing to do. 

“God, you look miserable,” Peter commented when Warren made his way into the kitchen, bags under his eyes, messy bed-head hair, sweatpants hung low, and a wrinkly t-shirt. 

“I stayed up, deep cleaning my closet. I’ve got some stuff I’m gonna donate.” 

“That’s nice.” Jean curtly commented. 

Nobody knew what to say. They weren’t sure what would trigger Warren. 

“We were all gonna see Knives Out,” Scott said. “A day off for everyone, chance to get last-minute gifts…” 

“Not interested.” Warren poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. 

“Come on,” Jubilee almost begged. “You haven’t left the mansion at all in the past few days.” 

“I have stuff to do.” He poured milk into his bowl. 

“Warren, you deep cleaned your closet at midnight. You have nothing to do and this will keep you occupied for a while.” Jubilee pointed out.

He was tired, “I don’t want to leave the mansion. What if something happens—“ 

“(Y/N)’s going to be fine.” 

Warren held his spoon tightly in his fist. “That’s what I thought before I went to Italy— Look at her now! She’s in a coma.”

“She’ll wake up in the spring,” Kurt offered up to calm Warren down. 

“This could have been prevented. I should have been here—“ Warren felt himself breakdown. He started crying, and no one knew what to do. Ororo got up from her seat and hugged him. He sobbed into her shoulder. 

Ororo gave him words of comfort, “It’s okay, this is normal for her. Distance will do you good. Everything’s going to be okay… You should get out, get fresh air.” 

Warren nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “Uh-huh.” 

“Come see the movie with us,” She suggested. 

“Okay, yeah… I’ll— I’ll go get ready.” He put his bowl in the sink and went out of the kitchen.

“Holy shit.” Peter’s eyes were wide with shock. “He’s a mess!” 

Jubilee swatted him with her hand, “Hush! He’s clearly upset… His girlfriend’s in hibernation until March.” 

“Yeah, but like, he just started crying,” Peter stated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Warren cry before… He just looked so broken, like, holy shit. I don’t think I was that upset when I got cheated on by my girlfriend, junior year on prom night…”  The worst part is, we could have prevented this.” 

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Scott mumbled. 

“Hey!” Ororo chasted the two boys. “I don’t care what happened while we were gone, but you’re both acting pathetic. This is no one’s fault! Get your heads out of your asses and be there for Warren.” 

“We should wake her up…” Everyone looked at Scott like he was crazy. 

“And risk killing her?” Ororo asked. 

“Yeah, no,” Peter answered. “Romeo may follow suit.” 

-

Warren didn’t want to go outside, but he needed to keep busy, or else he’d start crying again. 

He was a mess— he knew Kurt was tired of him staying up all night, doing anything and everything to keep busy… but when he closed his eyes he was face to face with nightmares— (Y/N)’s practically lifeless body lying in the hospital bed, her never waking up, or if she did she’d have amnesia and not remember anyone. 

Warren couldn’t sleep, but staying up all night would eventually take its toll on him, or he’d run out of things to do. 

Warren got changed and quickly ran downstairs to the medical bay. He wanted to check on (Y/N) before he left. 

“How is she?” 

“Same as she has been for the past few days,” Hank answered. “Everything’s normal, and she’s doing fine— great actually.” 

Warren nodded, “Um, I just wanted to see how she was doing. I’m going out with the other X-Men… we’re seeing Knives Out… Ororo said it’d be a good idea for me to get out of the mansion.” 

Hank blinked and then frowned in thought. “Yeah, she’s right. However, you seem to be doing really well, considering the situation. You haven’t spent all your time down here, but you do visit. You haven’t acted out with a huge wave of impulse emotions, but getting out for a little bit would be great for you.” 

Warren bit his tongue, holding back from telling Hank the truth about how he was doing. “Yeah… I’ll um, see you later.” 

-

Warren zoned out in the middle of the movie for a few minutes and had to ask Kurt what happened. 

“Police chased them down.” 

“Ah, okay.” Warren nodded. He glanced at his other friends. Scott had an arm around Jean, and they were cuddling, practically on top of each other, in the big recliners. Jubilee bought sour patch kids and was sharing the bag with Ororo. Peter and Kurt were really engrossed in the movie, and Warren was just kind of there… 

He was lonely— The movie was good, and he was enjoying it— but Warren as a whole was lonely.

He put up the hard “I don’t need anybody,” exterior to protect himself from hurt. His poor relationship with his parents caused him to be cautious and made it hard for him to develop a steady healthy relationship with any authority figures in his life. His cage fighting days taught him, he was alone, and nobody was ever going to love him, and he’d have to fight to get anywhere in life. 

Obviously, that proved to be false— he found confinement in Alex, (and sometimes Hank), as the older brother he never had. The community in the mansion proved he didn’t have to be so alone, and (Y/N) made him realize love is not some made-up fantasy, concocted in Disney’s headquarters. 

(Y/N) felt like his best friend on most occasions, and while he had all his other friends, her being gone made him feel so empty inside. 

-

On Christmas Eve he moped around in Scott and Peter’s room, one earbud in listening to sad music.

Scott wasn’t even there— he was doing God knows what with Jean, and Peter was playing Pac-Man. 

“You can hang out with me tomorrow if you want. I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

“I’m good.” Warren knew Peter would probably run home and mess around with his sisters and mom, or awkwardly hang around the mansion, trying to find Erik and tell him about their relationship. 

“Dude,” He awkwardly chuckled. “Okay, look— um, I know, nothing I say can fix the situation, but if you want to talk I’m here.” 

Warren paused his music. “What was the last thing she said?”

Peter was awestruck, “She’s not dead!” 

“I know—“

“She’s in a coma that she’s going to wake up from! She didn’t die.”

“I know that! I just want to know what she said before she went into the coma…” 

Peter felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. Warren seemed so defeated, like a kicked puppy. “We were watching a crappy zombie movie on tv… and it was like, really bad, and we were mostly complaining about how bad it was. The last thing I remember was she said something about how the prosthetics sucked and she could have done it better with some mint leaves and slime.” 

The corner of Warren’s lip rose up slightly. Typical (Y/N), but she was probably right. 

“Wanna play Pac-Man with me?” 

Warren sat up, “Sure.” 

-

“He just started crying, like— I’ve never seen anyone so upset, and I thought you were dead at one point!” Scott was frazzled in Hank’s lab with Alex, Jubilee, Jean, Ororo, and Kurt. 

“He seemed fine when he came down to visit her the other day.” Scott gave Hank a disbelieving look. “Well if he’s crying over little things, obviously he’s extremely stressed out and I’m not going to push him.” 

Scott glanced in the direction of (Y/N)’s area in the lab, “Maybe we should wake her up.”

“Are you crazy?!” Jubilee asked. “She could die from that—“

“She probably won’t though… (Y/N) being unconscious has made Warren, everyone on edge.”

“You want an easy way out of this,” Jubilee raised her voice as she kept speaking, “If you really cared about how Warren was, you’d be trying to comfort him best you can despite your half-assed friendship!”

“It’s our fault she’s like this, Jubes! We were supposed to make sure she didn’t fall asleep anywhere besides her room, and we couldn’t do it.” 

“Scott, she was getting weaker every day, this would have happened no matter what—“

His voice got louder, yet he was practically shaking, “No, we had the most simple task in the world! And we couldn’t do it! We’re the X-Men and we couldn’t even keep a girl from falling asleep!”

Jean hugged Scott, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s not your fault. She does this every year— and it’s not like you ignored her.”

“What if it was you instead? I’d be just like Warren…”

“Don’t say that—” She kissed the top of his head. “You’d be fine.” 

“I think we should discuss this with Warren and the Professor before we do anything, drastic.” Hank’s final words were clearly aimed at Scott. 

-

“We can wake her up…” 

Everyone was still in the lab, but this time Warren and Professor Xavier were present. Warren didn’t move, he was focused on what Hank was telling him and what it actually meant. 

“But… she could die if not done correctly. Waking up an animal early out of hibernation could kill it, but getting a plant out of its dormant season would just weaken it, if done too quickly though, it could kill the plant.” 

“Hank,” Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I thought we agreed, when (Y/N) goes dormant, we do not disturb her. We agreed with her parents several years ago.” 

“Yeah, but that was when she was a kid. She’s older now, and everyone’s distraught. Her boyfriend—“

“Oh, please,” Charles scoffed. “If I got on my knees and tried to align the stars every time Erik got hurt, there wouldn’t even be a school.” 

“Cut the crap. You and Erik fight and make up like some divorced couple in a soap opera. When Erik gets hurt, you’re always the first to know.” 

Xavier didn’t say anything out loud, he just glared. 

“Um, personally, uh, sorry,” Warren awkwardly cut in. “I think if (Y/N) might die if we wake her up, then it’s not worth it. And if her parents agreed, letting her sleep is the best thing, then it probably is.” 

Warren didn’t even want to think about her folks. Could you imagine? Their daughter dies because some dumb goth boy couldn’t handle her taking a three-month-long nap without him. Yeah, that’d impress them.

Charles clapped his hands together, “Well, there! It’s settled then. (Y/N) is fine as she is. I know this is upsetting for her to not be present around the holidays, but we can all assume she would want us to have fun and be kind to others, showing compassion and always helping those in need.”

-

Warren couldn’t sleep. He was restless in bed— too hot, then too cold, he’d have the beginnings of a nightmare or no dream at all— he was sure Kurt would have kicked him out by now if he hadn’t made the decision to sleep in Peter and Scott’s room for the night. 

His tossing and turning made him have to pee. He got up and went over to the bathroom. 

Looking in the mirror as he dried his hands he sighed. Warren looked so tired, but he didn’t know what to do. 

For the first time since Germany, he truly felt alone. 

-

He grabbed the two gifts stored under his bed and he quietly walked down the halls. 

None of the doors were locked, it was almost too easy for him to get into Hank’s lab. 

He flicked on the light switch, even though he didn’t need to. Her sleeping figure made his heart almost burst out of his chest. Warren felt so awkward standing there. 

He set the gifts down on a chair and walked over to (Y/N). 

“Hi…” No response. “Um, I don’t know if you can hear me… but like, Jubilee and Kurt watch all those soaps and they always have characters talking to people in comas so I figured, maybe, just maybe, you could hear something… anyway, um… I miss you. I really miss you and I wish you’d said something about all this…” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, with homework and chores and training. It’s been driving Kurt crazy that I’m up all the time, but I can’t sleep most nights…”

He paused for a moment, for the thought of, Am I crazy? Flashed through his brain. 

“I got you that fancy water filtered you wanted for Christmas… along with some mollisol soil in a jar…” He huffed in amusement while glancing at the gifts. “Peter made fun of me. He said, “No girl wants a jar of dirt for Christmas.” But I know you’d be happy with it— trying to divide it equally among every plant in your room, your eyes lighting up when you see improvements in them…” Warren looked at (Y/N) and smiled sadly. 

“We haven’t even been dating for a whole year, but it feels like it’s been forever…” His eyes watered and his voice faltered, “And that’s love… Isn’t it?... Everyone tells me something different, but— I think I love you. No— I know I love you. I love you and, and, I don’t know… I don’t know what I’ll do while you’re here. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and see everyone all happy like nothing’s wrong— or Scott kissing Jean when he thinks no one’s looking if I can’t put my arm around you and pull you closer and give him a look that states we’re a cuter couple…” Warren almost laughed at himself. His dumb competition with Scott. 

“I know you’d want me to pretend like nothing’s wrong because it isn’t— but it is… I don’t know what to do…”

-

Kurt knocked on the door of his room the next morning. “Warren! Merry Christmas!” No response. 

“I need to brush my teeth.” Still no answer. 

Kurt opened the door himself, “Warren?” The room was empty. “Where are you?” 

“Hey, Kurt,” Scott peaked in, still in pajamas. “Everything alright?”

“Warren’s gone.” 

“He’s probably downstairs already. Peter and Jubilee are, I bet he’s with them.” 

“Oh. You’re probably right.” Scott bid him goodbye and went to Jean’s room. Kurt still couldn’t get the feeling that Scott was wrong out of his system. 

-

Hank and Alex were headed down to the lab, giggling and acting like kids sneaking around. 

“Alex,” Hank breathed in between laughs, “I just wanna check on (Y/N).” 

“I know,” He managed between the kisses he left all over Hank’s neck. 

“Give me five minutes. Then we can join the others.” 

Alex frowned as Hank opened the door. “I want to be alone with you.” 

“Wasn’t this morning enough?” Hank joked. 

Alex rolled his eyes and hugged Hank from behind. 

Hank smiles and walked into the med Bay Area, where (Y/N) was put. 

He was shocked, to say the least. Alex too. 

“Did he wake her?” Alex whispered. 

“I don’t think so. Her heart rate hasn’t changed.”

Alex gently shook Warren’s shoulder, “Hey, kid, time to get up.” 

He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. “Mmmmhmmmggg…” 

“Merry Christmas.” Hank teased as he looked over (Y/N)’s vitals. 

“Shit.” Warren rubbed his eyes, “Did I fall asleep?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When did you come down here? I went upstairs at around eleven.” Hank commented. 

“You got into our room at 11:37 PM.” Alex corrected him. 

“Uhh, I don’t remember…” Warren was too tired to think. He wanted to get something to eat and go back to bed. He didn’t want to see everyone messing around the tree Charles got the younger students to set up. He wanted to go back to sleep right in bed with (Y/N), but he knew Hank wouldn’t let him. 

“Everyone’s upstairs,” Hank said.

“I know,” Warren said back.

Alex was preoccupied with his phone. Scott kept texting him where he was— for being the younger brother, he acted like an older one.

“Look, uh, I don’t want to overstep anything—” Hank said somewhat quietly to Warren. “I know we’re not that close, but—“

Warren shot him down, “I don’t need to talk to anyone. But thanks for the offer, Hank.” 

Hank pushes his glasses up his nose, “No, it’s not that… When Alex was presumed dead, and we found his body and he was in a coma… I was an emotional wreck. I spent all my time down here, worried he’d wake up any second, or never wake up, or wake up and not remember who I am… We weren’t even dating at the time. I was just so heartbroken because I wasted literal decades avoiding him and my feelings and— sorry. Sorry. I got off track… the point is, I get it. I’m not going to judge you for coming down at night to sleep with her.” 

“Just, just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” 

Hank nodded understandingly. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” Alex got up and wrapped an arm around Hank. 

“How much I love you,” Hank stated matter of factly. 

Alex chuckled and kissed Hank’s cheek. “Don’t bother him with that. I’m sure Warren doesn’t want to hear you talk about our relationship.” 

“I don’t care,” Warren told him. 

“Still— go upstairs. Scott and Kurt think you got kidnapped or something.” 

“Alright, alright,” Warren had to laugh, “I will.” 

“We’ll meet you up there.” 

Neither of the older men spoke until the door shut. 

“He loves her.” 

“Hmm?” Alex looked at Hank curiously. 

“Warren, he loves (Y/N).” Alex hummed in agreement.

“They’re good for each other.” 

-

Warren walked into the common room while chaos was in full motion. 

Kurt was teleporting from place to place in the room, Ororo was focusing on making it snow outside, surprisingly, Peter was asleep on the couch, and Jean and Scott were cuddled under a blanket by the fireplace, obviously feeling each other up.

“Warren!” Kurt jumped down and landed at his feet. “Where have you been?”

He shrugged, “Workout.” 

“Okay…” Kurt wasn’t convinced, but 

“Hey, Warren! I made these brownies, they’re really good—“ She handed him one. “Here!” 

“Uh, thanks.” He took a bite out of it. Gooey. Rich chocolate flavor. Yet, it also crumbled. Not half bad. 

Warren smiled and nodded, telling Jubilee it was delicious. She was thrilled. 

After a round of greetings to everyone, Warren sat on the couch next to Peter. “There’s a present for you…” He murmured, half asleep.

Warren furrowed his brows and looked at the tree. There was one gift left. The wrapping paper was black, with two silver bows on it. Warren smiled sadly at it, as he held it in his arms.

“Aww… It’s you!” Peter teased. Warren laughed a little, before opening it. 

It was a box. Obviously, not empty. Warren removed the lid and looked through it. Inside was a disposable camera, an empty photo book, and a letter. He grabbed the letter first and read it.

Warren, 

If you’re reading this, I’m either dormant or will be soon. I didn’t tell you anything about it because I’m scared. I’m scared you’d want to break up because I’m not conscious for part of the year. To most people, I’m sure it’d be a major turn off. But as Jubilee sometimes puts it, you’re ‘a little too attached’ to me to break up with me over a long nap. :) Or at least I hope so. 

Anyway, I don’t want you moping over me the whole time, because you’ll just be sad and closed off and lose a lot of progress in your mental health. And I worry about you. I’ll be worrying about you quite a bit while I’m hibernating. 

Uh, I can also hear everything you say to me. In case you wanna chat. I can’t say anything back, but it’s nice to listen. 

I got you the camera and photobook to give you something to do. When I wake up you can catch me up on everything I missed. Take some pictures, save some memes for me, make a playlist of songs you think I’d like, movies I need to watch— Jubilee did it my first year here, and I liked it. I didn’t feel like I was wasting my time sleeping… I sometimes feel that way— I could do schoolwork, or spend time with my plants that still trudge through winter, or hang out with my friends… don’t feel sad, this is a normal bodily function… for me… You’re gonna think it sucks, which is kind of does, but I’ll try to make up for lost time… I love you…

(Y/N)

Warren couldn’t read the last few words, they’d been scratched out. He rubbed his eye, trying not to cry. 

“What’d you get?” Peter asked. 

“Uh, camera… So (Y/N)’s got photos for when she wakes up…”

“Aww…” Peter cooed. “That’s so cute— Hey guys! Let’s get a group photo!”

“Peter, I don’t— I don’t think that’s necessary—” 

“Too bad!” Peter snatched the camera from Warren’s hands and started motioning and yelling at people to get in the frame. “I used to use these all the time as a kid— these little disposable cameras. I loved them!” Peter pressed the button, and a light flashed for a moment. He turned the dial on it and then handed it back to Warren. “You know how to use these, right?” 

“Uh…” 

“Great! You’ve totally got this.” 

Peter was gone in a flash, leaving Warren alone. 

He huffed, what was he really going to do with a camera? He didn’t want to bring his girlfriend up to speed with pop culture and all the drama she missed. He wanted to live through it all with her.

But he couldn’t… 

-

Warren went back downstairs to the lab. Nobody stopped him from leaving or even asked where he was going. It was like he had no value in the group without (Y/N), just someone they tolerated, if that even. 

He wanted to scream, knowing she could hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t find his voice… no words came out… just tears… 

He fell down to the floor and cried. That’s all he could do. 

You’re so weak! Pathetic! You can’t spend a moment away from her and you cry like a fucking baby! You don’t deserve her… 

His sobs were the only things you could hear in the room.

-

New Year’s came and gone. The X-Men threw a party. Warren took a photo since he knew (Y/N) would have wanted to be there. 

He didn’t want to be there. Soon as he took his photo he wanted to leave. He never liked parties, not as a kid, not in Berlin, and not when he came to the mansion— until he started dating (Y/N). 

She got invited to several parties. Some were just dorm get-togethers with different groups of kids, others were house parties from the kids at the public school down the road, some were like this… real parties. She always wanted Warren with her when she went, and he never said no. He didn’t always enjoy them, but he didn’t mind. If (Y/N) had a good time, so did he. 

But here Warren was, moping in the corner of Xavier’s ballroom. 

-

He didn’t leave his room on Valentine’s day, despite still having classes. He trained for three hours a day, not including the group workouts and training required for all members of the X-Men. 

He volunteered to go on more missions. He didn’t want to be stuck in the mansion for more than two days at a time. No one objected, he was a valuable member of the team, and the more experience the better he would get. 

He was to go to London for three weeks with Ororo, Hank, Jean, and Scott.

Jean and Scott were excited because this just meant they’d somehow end up in a hotel room alone together at night, while everyone else was sleeping.

Warren was not too thrilled, as he was jealous. No need to sugarcoat it. Warren was jealous that Scott got Jean all 365 days of the year, that he never had to be away from her for more than a week, that they could flaunt their relationship and how happy they were together. 

It made his stomach churn, but there was nothing he could do. 

-

“I’m going to London for a few days… If I meet Harry Styles I’ll tell him you’re a fan…” (Y/N) laid in bed, lifeless. Warren tucked his hair behind his ears, making a note to get a haircut soon. “I’m going with Scott, Jean, and Ororo…” 

He hated this. He hated talking to her, knowing she could hear him but not say anything back. It was different the few days before Christmas, but now it was all just a mess. 

“Bye.” He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked out. 

One week. 

One week with no cell phones, no homework, nothing. Sure, Warren would probably have to punch a few bad guys, but other than that he just wanted to sleep. He didn’t really care for much anymore. He tried his best to stay engaged and involved, keep himself busy, but it was extremely challenging.

A five-hour flight, with nothing to do.

“You guys excited?” Hank asked.

“Yeah!” 

“Definitely.” 

“I’m hoping I can use some new moves Mystquie’s been teaching me.”

“Mhmm…” Warren mumbled. 

Hank glanced at him. He looked depressing. 

“We’re in London for a week, I bet we’ll have some time to do sightseeing or go out.” 

“Ooo!” Jean nudged Scott. “That’ll be fun, right babe?”

He nodded, “Oh yeah.”

Warren brought Peter’s walkman with him, and put in his earbuds and closed his eyes, assumingly taking a nap.

-

Once they arrived and checked into their rooms, Warren was still tired. He wanted to take another nap. 

“So, I think we should go out tonight—” Hank handed everyone their room keys, “—You guys have been working really hard, and not much praise is given by Alex or Raven, or Erik when he occasionally shows up… but we’re proud of you.” 

“Aww…” “Thanks, Hank…” 

Warren just offered a smile.

“We can unpack and get changed if you guys want, we can go out and get some dinner?”

Everyone thought Hank’s plan was good, and they separated into their rooms.

“You doing okay?” Scott asked while unpacking his bag. 

“Yeah… Why?”

“You didn’t say anything the whole ride here.”

“I took a nap,” Warren unzipped his bag.

“Oh.” 

“I’m not going to unexpectedly burst into tears.” Warren snapped.

“I didn’t say you were—” 

“Everyone thinks I am, I’m not stupid. I know you think I’m emotionally unstable and Hank’s been acting all nice on this mission because of it.” 

“Are you?” 

“What?” 

Scott sat down on his bed, “Are you emotionally unstable?”

Warren glared at him, “I’ve been working my ass off for this mission. I’ve trained longer and harder than anybody else. Do I look unstable to you?” 

“No! I just thought—” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna shower and get dressed for dinner.” He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

-

Hank had asked the woman at the front desk a good place to eat. She recommended some local place down the road. He rounded up the kids, despite there only being four of them.

“A night out will do us good.” 

“You’ve been saying that,” Warren mumbled. 

“You didn’t have to come you know,” Ororo stated. 

“I have nothing better to do with my time.”

Ororo kept her mouth shut, knowing she could have said something back, but knowing Warren, it was better not to.

-

The restaurant was pretty crowded, despite it being the middle of the week, but the group still managed to get a table. 

Their server was friendly. They got drinks. They ordered their food. 

“You okay, Warren?” Hank noticed he hardly touched his food.

“Mhmm… Just not that hungry. I’ll probably get a box.” 

“Oh, okay,” Hank nodded, a little unsure. 

-

They left the restaurant and went back to the hotel. Warren took his shirt off and laid on his bed. 

“I’m gonna hang out with Jean… You gonna be okay?”

Warren let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, yeah. Go have fun, Cyclops… I’m going to bed.” 

Warren couldn’t sleep. He didn’t really want to. He turned on the tv, trying to find something to watch. 

Someone knocked on the door while he was in the middle of some cooking show. Warren got up and opened his door. “Hey, Ro.” 

“Hey, Jean kicked me out. Wanna go for a swim in the pool?”

“Sure.”

He quickly got changed and followed Ororo downstairs.

The got into the elevator and were quiet at first.

“I think they have a hot tub.”

“Cool.” 

Ororo glanced at Warren and sighed. “I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

He nodded, “I know.” 

“For real. You’re allowed to talk about your feelings.”

“I don’t want to.”

Ororo sighed, “Warren…” 

 He looked back at her. “I want this all to be over.”  

“(Y/N)—”

“It’s not fair! Everyone in my life has left me or used me somehow— and I know she’s different, but it’s not fair! I was so happy with her and—” 

The elevator stopped. It wasn’t their floor. The doors opened the reveal a young woman. She had a familiar glow to her and leaves in her hair. 

Warren looked at her, feeling lightheaded at seeing her.

“(Y/N)?”

-

Warren woke up in his hotel bed. He wasn’t sure how he got there. He didn’t even remember going to the pool with Ororo. All he could remember was her. 

(Y/N).

He looked over to his left and saw Scott peacefully asleep in his bed, sleep mask on and everything. The TV was off, and so were all the lights. Warren couldn’t go back to bed, it wasn’t an option. 

He quietly got out of bed and slipped on his shoes, slowly opening the door, as to not wake Scott.

He went out to the halls. He had no plan, no idea where he was going, but he needed to get out. 

He walked around, lost in the halls late at night. He wasn’t tired, but he was upset. He didn’t want to keep crying, he didn’t want to be so dependent on (Y/N), but without her— 

The sound of thunder interrupted his thoughts. He looked outside and saw it was raining. It reminded him of (Y/N)— without her, all it did was rain and snow. 

-

Hank said they were looking for someone. Someone Xaiver wanted to bring back to the mansion. This type of mission was more stealth and would require little physical fighting. 

Hank got told from an anonymous source she’d be at some socialite gathering.

“Scott, Jean, you’re going to pretend to be some young, rich, American couple. Get in there, find our target, and get her alone. Convince her to come back with us if that doesn’t work let us know on the comms.” 

“What does she look like?” 

“Her name is Betsy Braddock—” Hank pulled up a file with all her information on his tablet. 

“What does Xavier want with her?” Warren asked, anger rising in his tone. 

Betsy… She left him to die in Egypt. She got him wrapped up in the Apocalypse cult nonsense. He didn’t want to see her again, he didn’t want to see her ever. 

“She knows something about the attacks in Italy we dealt with around Christmas, plus she’s somewhat telepathic… I know your past with her is messy, but—”

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” Everyone looked at Warren, surprised at his statement. 

“Alright. You guys know what to do— Jean, Scott, get dressed and ready for the party. I’ll get you an uber— Ororo, Warren, You guys are going to a hideout location not far from the location of the party, in case backup is needed. I’m going to stay and operate things here. 

-

The first few hours of the mission went as expected. Jean and Scott made small talk with people, trying to find Betsy. 

Warren didn’t want to see her, or more, he didn’t want her to see him in his current emotional state. But it didn’t matter what he wanted. He argued and insisted on joining this mission, and now he could see why Xavier was hesitant to let him go.

“I see her,” Jean said. “She’s not with anyone.” 

Jean’s earpiece was quiet after that. 

Warren and Ororo sat there for what felt like forever. Jean and Scott talked occasionally, but it was never directly to them. 

The young couple eventually lured Betsy into an empty room.

“You didn’t really bring me up here to sleep with me, did you?” She asked, messing with her hair in the slight reflection from a window. 

Jean shook her head, “No. But we want you to come back with us… You’ve heard of Charles Xavier…” 

Betsy nodded. 

“He wants you to help him with the attacks on the mutant community in southern Italy.” 

“What will he give me in return?” Scott and Jean exchanged a quick glance. They weren’t exactly sure. 

Scott’s voice faltered slightly, “You can…”

Jean finished his sentence. “—You can discuss that with him when we get to New York.” 

Betsy turned her head to look at them, “And what if I say no?”

“We’ll chase you down until you do,” Scott stated with more confidence than before.

“Alright. I’ll go with you.” 

-

Betsy had no idea Warren was in London, or even alive for that matter. Warren had no idea how she was going to react, and he didn’t really want to find out. 

But he didn’t really have an option. 

“Give us time to pack up and we can leave for Westchester,” Jean explained in the ride back to the hotel. 

“Who else is with you?” 

“Dr. McCoy is back at the hotel, and Ororo and Warren should be there too.” Betsy’s expression changed. “You probably know them as—”

“I know exactly who they are. I thought Warren died…”

Scott shook his head, “Nope. He’s doing great.” Scott blinked away the uncertainty hidden behind his words. 

Betsy nodded, unsure what to say. She thought about maybe jumping out of the car, and never seeing these people again. She knew Warren would be angry when he saw her. She couldn’t blame him. 

“He’s not upset with you…” Betsy looked at Jean, a bit shocked. “He’s hurting from something else… Don’t ask about it… just trust me...” 

“Easy for you to say.” Betsy scoffed.

Jean shook her head, “You’ll see…”

“We’re here.” The driver stopped the car and the three got out. 

Betsy looked up at the hotel the group was staying at, “Nice place.” 

They walked in and headed to the nearest elevator. Jean was fidgeting with the comm in her ear. 

“We got back about twenty minutes ago,” Ororo said.

“We’re on our way to our rooms,” Jean replied.

The elevator dinged, signaling it was at the destined floor.

-

They packed up quickly, and stood out in the hall, bags in hand. 

Hank introduced himself to Betsy. Her response was short, she was preoccupied with her ex-boyfriend standing less than five feet away from her. 

“Hi.”

He looked sad and more tired than usual. Seeing him sober was mind-blowing to Betsy, but people change. She hadn’t seen him in a few years— sure they saw each other during the Apocalypse incident, but that was a few days— she was really going to see him this time. 

He didn’t respond to her. She frowned. 

The plane ride was long and tedious. Betsy had nothing to do and wanted nothing more than to leave. So, she decided to try and talk to Warren again.

“Hey.” He turned his head around best he could and looked at Betsy questioningly. She nodded. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Warren wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk.

“Cool… Cool…” 

There was a pause before Warren spoke up, “Do you need anything?” 

“Just wanted to talk…” 

“You have other options.” 

Betsy rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t really wanna talk to you right now… And I don’t need you poking around in my head either.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” She said calmly. 

Warren didn’t respond. Betsy sighed, he was useless. Warren wasn’t going to talk even if she forced him. And she couldn’t really blame him, but she had a lingering feeling in her stomach. 

Probably just my dinner digesting… 

-

At some point, Betsy fell asleep, for when the plane landed Hank had to wake her up. She rubbed her eyes and undid her seatbelt. 

“Do we have to go through security again?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, we left the country,” Hank told him while glancing at his watch.

Scott was not too thrilled. Everyone was tired to some degree. It was extremely late, and they went back a few hours due to the time zone.

“It won’t be that long. There’s hardly anyone here.” 

Everyone went through security and headed to the baggage claim to get their stuff. 

Jean was the first to get her suitcase— a medium-sized, teal one— Warren was next, and his was all black, to no one’s surprise, but the nametag on it looked drastic tied to the handle. 

It was clear, with glitter and flowers trapped inside it. It didn’t seem like Warren at all to Betsy, but what did she know? 

-

Hank took Betsy to an empty room and told her she could sleep there for the time being. She set her bags on the floor and looked around. There was a dated-looking wallpaper upon the walls, and the bed took up a little under half of the room. 

It was alright. 

Betsy rummaged through her bag for some pajamas when she heard footsteps. 

Hank had left almost immediately after he showed her the room, so it couldn’t be him. She opened the door only to see Warren walking down the hall. She quietly followed him, staying several steps behind. 

He went down to the main floor, and even further down into the basement. 

This place is huge! Betsy said to herself. 

The basement looked different from the rest of the mansion, for the walls and floor were made of metal. 

Warren turned right, into a room within the basement. Betsy held her breath as she got closer. 

What is he doing down here?

Betsy caught sight of a girl laying in a hospital bed. Warren sat down next to her and started talking… 

That’s why he’s on edge…  Betsy had accidentally bumped into something, making a loud noise. 

Warren shot up, “Who’s there?” 

Betsy tried to sneak out, but Warren caught her.

“Betsy!” 

She froze. 

“Why were you following me?”

“Why are you visiting a coma patient at three in the morning?” She asked back.

“She’s my girlfriend.” 

“I mean I figured as much—”

“So leave.” He cut her off and was sharp. “Please…” He pleaded more in his last word.

She looked at her unconscious figure, “I could help…” 

“No,” He was stern.

“I could—” “—You’d kill her.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” She defended.

“Yeah, you would. Her mutation makes her basically hibernate until March, so she’s fine.”

“I could still help— I’ve helped you before…”

“No, you didn’t! You were constantly going in and out of my life whenever it was convenient for you and came back when I didn’t need you too! You— you ruined my life!”

Betsy felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

“Look…” Warren sighed.  “Betsy… I’m sorry. I don’t want your help… I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Betsy nodded, she knew Warren wasn’t going to change his mind. 

“Okay.” 

“What?”

“I won’t help you.” She left the medical room, leaving Warren alone with his thoughts.

-

Over the next few days, Betsy accommodated herself to the mansion, giving Xavier the information he wanted, and exploring the grounds. 

She was almost always accompanied by Jubilee, per some people’s request, seeing as her past wasn’t spotless. 

Jubilee was full of energy, and always willing to tell Betsy whatever she asked about. 

“Who’s Warren’s girlfriend?”

“Her name is (Y/N). She controls plants. She can also grow them from her body. And her eyes change color based on her mood… She’s uh, she’s not around at the moment, but that’s not important.” 

Betsy nodded along as Jubilee spoke. “Is he happy?” 

“Do you miss him?” 

Betsy struggled to let out a straight answer, “No— ugh— I just— I ruined his life.” 

“You didn’t ruin his life!” Betsy glared at her. “Okay, okay, maybe you kind of did ruin his life, but he’s fine now. He’s just a little on edge you’re here and (Y/N) isn’t.” 

“I don’t need to stay here—” 

“Bullshit!” Jubilee exclaimed.  “You’ve got nowhere else to go, really.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

-

Betsy was rarely ever alone. She was too busy helping the X-Men. 

She had a few moments to herself though. She was never sure what to do. She couldn’t just up and leave and go out to some bar and sulk in a corner and come back drunk and angry— that’d paint her as extremely irresponsible. She didn’t want to bore or impose on the X-Men if she didn’t have to. 

She wandered around the mansion. It was massive and somewhat old and stuffy looking, but also gave off those classic school vibes.

Betsy wandered into the basement at some point and quickly learned, that was where the X-Men trained, made battle and mission plans, stored their jet, Hank worked on costumes and more in his lab, and where their medical bay was kept. 

She knew she shouldn’t be down there alone. Betsy wasn’t going to do anything bad, but it felt wrong. 

She was watching a girl in a coma sleep. There were so many things wrong about that. 

Of course, no one would really care, except for maybe Warren— but he had every good reason to.

“You keep visiting me.” 

Betsy almost jumped. The voice had startled her. She thought she was alone. 

“Jean?” But didn’t sound like Jean. Betsy couldn’t decipher who it was. 

She sat there for another thirty minutes, hoping the voice would return, but it didn’t. 

So she got up and left. 

It was probably just a student. My telepathic abilities aren’t the strongest. It was probably just a student somewhere on the grounds…

She didn’t tell anyone about the voice. She didn’t want to seem crazy, because it probably didn’t mean anything. 

-

“Hey,  guys! I found this on my google drive! It’s a bunch of videos from Xavier’s fourth of July party!” Peter had his laptop open at a table, with a few papers spread about. 

Everyone, including Betsy, gathered around Peter as he played a few video clips.

It was Warren, Peter, Scott, and (Y/N) all together in the first one. They were walking in a parking lot with shopping bags in their hands. 

“We just spent—” Peter cut Warren off.

“We just spent $2,000 on fireworks! Holy fuck!” Everyone else is laughing at his enthusiasm. 

“Can’t Jubilee just produce fireworks? Why did we need this many anyway?” 

“It’s for the American aesthetic, (Y/N)!” 

They got into the car and Peter was still recording. 

“Weren’t you born in Poland or something?” 

“America was founded on immigration—”

The clip was cut off, and the next one played automatically. But Betsy remembered the voice. The female one. It was like the one she heard in the basement… was (Y/N) trying to contact her?

She tried to focus as the next few clips played, she needed to hear (Y/N)’s voice again.

“Kurt, look—” Peter was still recording with his smartphone, he had zoomed in on a darker part of Xavier’s. It was a tree, and two people were leaning up against it— clearly making out. 

“Jean told me she went to get more popsicles!” Kurt whined. 

Everyone watching was laughing, except for Scott and Jean, who were extremely embarrassed they got caught. 

“You ain’t slick, Summers.”

“Shut up.” 

Footsteps could be heard. “What are we doing?” (Y/N) asked.

“Look—” Kurt motioned to the couple at the tree. 

“Oh, gross. They don’t even know we’re watching! And to think… Warren went inside to see what Jean was doing…”

“Well, he won’t find out,” Kurt joked. 

Betsy knew she heard (Y/N) voice in the basement… but why? Was she a ghost? Did her unconscious state allow her to communicate telepathically? 

She needed to go back there, alone, but she knew that was almost impossible. Hank was almost always down in the lab, and Warren was almost always visiting (Y/N). 

-

That didn’t really matter to her. Betsy needed to talk to her or hear her voice again. She thought about asking Jean, but she thought that would be fruitless. 

She went to visit (Y/N) again, but this time she spoke to her. 

“Can you hear me?” 

No response. 

“My name is Betsy Braddock. I know who you are and I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Betsy huffed, “This is stupid!” She got up and began to walk out. 

“Wait!” Betsy froze. (Y/N) said something. “You keep visiting me…”

“I’m just curious about you,” Betsy responded.

“Why?” 

“I don’t know I—” 

“Betsy?” Warren’s voice was stern and almost angry. “What are you doing here?”

“I can hear her. Like, with my abilities… I know you didn’t really want me down here and I understand—”

“Then why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see if I could communicate with her telepathically…” She admitted.  “That’s all. I’m not trying to wake her or anything.” 

“I’m sorry… but I can hear people and it’s nice to have someone who can hear me back…” 

Betsy, plagued with guilt, looked over at (Y/N), whos lifeless form hadn’t changed a bit, despite the obvious sadness in her words.

“I just feel, so bad and I don’t know why and… I ruined your life. There’s no shortcut, without me you would have left the fighting ring in less than three weeks… You’d have your feathery wings still… but I loved you and I couldn’t let go, and I thought bringing Apocalypse to you would make up for all the shit I did…” 

“I was a kid. I didn’t even know what love meant! And I’m not avoiding you on purpose, I don’t resent you as much as I did when I first came here… but I don’t know what you want, okay? Our lives aren’t connected anymore, and I just want (Y/N) back...” Warren was biting down on his lip to keep himself from breaking down crying. 

“Tell him I’m sorry.” 

“(Y/N) said she’s sorry…” 

Warren’s gaze shifted between the two girls. 

“Why is she sorry?”

“All I’ve done since Christmas is make him unhappy and upset. He deserves someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.”

“She said, you deserve someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.” 

Warren walked over to (Y/N)’s body, he held her hand in his. “It’s not about what I may or may not deserve. It’s about what I want and love.” 

“I love him…” 

Betsy was about to repeat what she said, but Warren was crying. He had let a single tear drip down. 

It landed on (Y/N)’s hand. And soon as it did, her eyes flew open. 

-

She was gasping for air, eyes squinting up at the fluorescent lights. (Y/N) heard voices. 

“She’s awake…” 

“It’s almost March, that might be too early—“

“—I’ll be fine,” (Y/N) interrupted. She rubbed her eyes and turned her eyes away from the lights, looking over at Warren, who was at her side, tears in his eyes. 

“Betsy, go get Hank.” He instructed. Warren looked back at (Y/N), holding her hand in his, and his other cupping her cheek. 

“Hi.” She murmured in a groggy tone. 

“Hi.” He kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” Warren was perplexed. “What for?” 

“I couldn’t stay awake, and I hurt you, Warren. I made you cry and think you weren’t good enough for me…” She snuffled her nose. 

“That’s bullshit. You could never hurt me. I was crying because I couldn’t do anything. The last time I saw you was before I went to Italy on some dumb mission— I missed you… I missed your smile, I missed how you’d make flower crowns and put them on my head, how I could go to you after a nightmare no matter what time of night it was, or how you told me I helped you become more assertive and learn it’s okay to say no, or you showing me the beauty in everything— I…” His voice was breaking, but all (Y/N) could see in his eyes was happiness.  “I can’t live without you… I love you.”

“Oh, Warren, baby…” She squeezed his hand. 

Warren cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her. 

That one kiss said everything he wanted to say. It let out his feelings. It had passion and swiftness backing it up, followed by his undying love for (Y/N). 

She kissed him back, trying to make up for the time they’ve lost. Her lips fit prefectures against his. 

It was like the first time they kissed, full of everything she wanted, except much longer, with more meaning to it. 

They broke apart slowly, almost as if they didn’t want to. 

“I love you too…” She murmured.