#I shall never underestimate your presence again

[yoursecretgaylover]

As someone who only casually reads fanfics, I am not proud of the significant amount of despair I have felt when Ao3 was down, just simply knowing that I couldn’t if I wanted to. Like the absence of a casual mistress that I had, unknowingly, fallen for as the moon falls for the sun, giving way for daylight, now too far gone, leaving me grasping at empty air and the thought of what could have been. Something so dear to my heart, so undervalued, gone under the currents of wind that slip through my fingers. Like the whispered breath of unspoken words, escaping in moments of thoughtlessness. Unspoken words that carried, for all we know, the meaning of life itself. Nor am I proud of the shameless way in which I have done nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe fanfics for the past several hours, maybe even days. Drinking in her presence like a man left stranded in the desert, with nothing but the hot hot sun to keep his company. Time seems to slip by when she’s in my presence, under my fingertips, tangible, lovable, her presence haunts me in every breath, every movement, every slip of the tongue and every lecherous thought. She’s returned to me, battered and broken, but here, and healing, my love, my light, my reason for living, and dare I say, the one I call home. My love grows ever stronger, and I shall never take her for granted again, even in our cloudiest days and darkest nights, in which we may have spoken but a few whispered nothings for some time, I shall remain forever and truly, hers.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Letter to my.. - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter has been dead for 4 decades.

Inspired by "Letter to my mother" by Georges Simenon.

Tuesday, 12th of November 2024

Dear Henry,

There have been forty-four years since your death, or rather since the day you were proclaimed dead by the doctors at the mere age of twenty and one, and perhaps, it’s only now that I’m beginning to understand you.

Back then, in what I would like to believe was the defining apogee of our lives, we had been lost in a childish rivalry. Stolen toys, mine or yours? Hide and I’ll seek you until night falls; Hop, hop on the chalk-coloured squares, did you ever feel I’m there? Ineludible questions. A petulant game designed to assert superiority. It is comical that to this day, I’m unable to let go of the self-consuming primal need that demands to rise over you, and somehow by disregarding the rules of the Underworld, attempt again to show you that I am singularis sublimis. This spreads and stirs me like I have not been awakened since I last felt your presence. If I’m being completely honest with you, Henry, I’m not sure I can let go.  Alas, my limits are to be transcended in order to achieve my goal. I have theorised and concluded that if I truly wish to understand you I need to forget my ego and allow you to listen to my raw, unfiltered thoughts so that in return I can hear yours whispered to me by Hermes of Cyllene and his golden wings. There will be no more dancing around (forgive me if I occasionally slip), and instead of speaking to you in graciously veiled words, I shall surrender myself to you for the first time. 

Dear Henry, the truth is that you’ve always somehow eluded me. I hope I did too. Of the two of us, I’ve known, for as long as Zeus has reigned, you rank above me. However, I’m not sure if I’m underestimating myself or lifting you on a pedestal, all because of how much my mind perfected you. To understand you, I first must deal with my own selective imagination. I know you weren’t olympian-born. You were more than just the dehumanized idea I have left of you. I remember your quirks, your slight, transitive tics, your stiff way of existing. You had your flaws, as I had mine. My facade lasted longer than I have ever expected in your scrutinizing gaze. Come to think of it, I don’t know if you knew me. Did you see me in the other sense of the word? Did you know the true (rather emotive) self that I desperately tried to conceal? If you did, you never showed it.

You tolerated me, and since we lived under the same roof, shared a sheet and a window, I dare say you approved of me. I lived with you, but you were still a stranger when you left me.

I hope you know, I was with you during the period in which you were half alive, on the narrow hospital bed, after you had put two bullets in your head. I watched you, sedated, my own abdomen bandaged and pulsing. Somehow you had managed to live for more than twelve hours after the gun’s giggle, which made me believe you didn’t want to die. The feat amazed the doctors. Such grave wounds, they said, would have killed most people instantly. I hoped you might survive, that it was all part of your great plan. So I waited and waited, but you never did wake up from your dreamless sleep.

You died of course, but I suppose you could not have done much else. I was there when you flatlined. The beep penetrated me and I did nothing but stare at your eyes, which were then closed once and forever, never for them to pour over ancient texts, roses in full bloom and I (and never for me to get lost in their icy blue again). Maybe I should have cried for you Henry, but it seemed to me that my life ended with yours, and perhaps, that is why I was and still am not able to recreate a living being’s emotion. 

And I didn’t want to let go without coming to know you and understand you. But was it my choice? Would I have been able to defy fate and beg Hades to cast you out of his halls with only the aid of my pathetic sobs?

I wonder if you’d approve of the man I’ve become. I’m sixty-five, a classics professor. I’m unmarried, but I do have a cat, a Maine Coon to be specific (unnamed so I call it using the well-known “pspsps.”) I teach a small group of students, and I’ve come to know them well. They are never very interesting to me because I know exactly what they are going to do. Nevertheless, a student touches a professor with their mere existence. Most of the things I do are to guide them, to shape them, to give them a reason to thank me. It’s inevitable for their names or faces to not imprint in my mind and for their entire being to follow. Teaching has become my anchor and I can’t help but wonder what would you have transformed into. A writer, a professor just like me, a translator? If you were to be alive, would you be unemployed depending only on the immense amount of money you would have owned? Would you have been a father, a grandfather? Would we have been living together? What would we have been? Would you have grown to show me your true self? Would I have understood you?

Dear Henry, when it is my turn to join you in Hades’ realm, please, do me one last favour and reveal yourself to me, and so, put me out of my misery.

With kind regards,

Your friend

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork heart pt21

Part 20 here

———

Taliesin: *laying in his bedroll listening to the room around him as he tries to sleep, the blizzard outside Wyrms bedroom windows filling the silence with a gentle drone, and Kaidan and inigo’s bear like snoring easily overshadowing it* …

*Tap*

Taliesin: *opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling before looking over at the bed to see voryn and nerevar sleeping in each others embrace, and Kaidan and inigo both deep in their sleep* …

*click, click*

Taliesin: *looks over at Wyrms desk to see Mr wrench quietly rising up to his feet, facing the direction of the door* you heard it too?…

Mr wrench: *turns to face Taliesin and tappy taps his front legs in acknowledgement*

Taliesin: *gets up and walks to the dwarven spider, gently offering his hand to it and smiling as it scurries up to his shoulder* let’s investigate shall we?… *picks up his dagger and walks to the hole in Wyrms wall, peering through it to the now dark interior of the arcanum* …

*rustle*

Taliesin: *eyes immediately locking onto a sheet of paper by urags desk, moving from an unseen breeze* … *casts invisibility on himself and muffles the sound of the door opening as he steps into the room, dagger drawn and ears poised for any further sound* …

Mr wrench: *suddenly flashes a bright red light from his eye illuminating the unseen figure creeping right up behind Taliesin before leaping right for their face*

Taliesin: *spins around in time to witness ancano be taken to the ground by the tiny spider as he flails in a panic trying to protect his face from it* You. I should have guessed it’d be you.

Ancano: *grunts grabbing the dwarven spider by its leg* Worthless heap of scrap- *moves to throw it only for Taliesin to grab his wrist in a vice like grip*

Taliesin: Don’t. You. Dare. *pries his fingers from the spider and catches him letting the automaton scurry up his arm again*

Ancano: *winces in pain at the other high elfs surprisingly strong grip* Who in oblivion are y-… I know you… you’re-

Taliesin: not with the thalmor anymore.

Ancano: You dare defect from the dominion never mind put your hands on a superior?! *rises to his feet and nearly collapses in agony again as Taliesin grips tighter threatening to break his wrist as icy arcane energy begins to freeze the other elfs skin*

Taliesin: You are not my superior anymore. You are worth less than the dirt beneath my boots. Did you think I was Wyrm? Is that why you crept up behind me? What else have you done to him without his consent?

Ancano: *eyes flashing with intrigue at his questioning* I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking abo-AGH! *chokes out a pained cry as Taliesin suddenly pins him to a book shelf, twisting his wrist behind his back*

Taliesin: *grabs his hair with his free hand holding him in place* Don’t lie to me. I may have been a terrible justiciar but you are a pathetic liar. *leans in close to his ear* Tell me, the truth…

Ancano: *realising he’d severely underestimated Taliesin and trying to figure out a way out of the situation he’d landed himself in* I-

*click, creeeeeak!*

Taliesin: *looks back to see urags door opening, and Wyrm stepping out into the dark library* Wyrm-GAGHH! *let’s go of ancano as the other high elf stomps on his foot before bashing his face with the back of his head as he turns invisible again*

Ancano: This isn’t over you traitorous swine. *huffs and storms out*

Taliesin: *holding his mouth as blood trickles from his lip* You slimy little- to think I’d once admired you. *looks back to see Wyrm still there, slowly walking towards his room seemingly unbothered by his presence* Wyrm shhh im sorry I woke you I can-… Wyrm?…

Wyrm: *sleep walking, posture calm and yet, somehow ready. Quietly walks into his bedroom and stops at nerevars bag before looking into it and picking up keening with a steady, calculated grasp*

Taliesin: *following him in realising he’s not in control of himself anymore* Wyrm?…

Wyrm: *crawling on his bed and onto nerevar, straddling his waist with his legs and holding the knife over his face, ready to cut it off*

Taliesin: *runs to grab him* WYRM STOP!!!

Nerevar: *jolts awake in shock to see Wyrm above him holding the knife, his mind immediately flashing back to the day of the foul murder, and sotha sil slicing his face off with the very same blade* what?! *grabs the dunmer by his wrist and easily disarms him before pinning him back into the bed, startling both him and voryn awake. And then the entirety of the collage as Wyrm screams in fright*

*a few hours later in the early hours of the morning*

Enthir: *emerges from urags room after getting Wyrm and the old orc settled again* Okay so you saw what happened then yeah? *fixes his robe and yawns as he picks up more blankets to take into Wyrms room*

Taliesin: I woke up to ancano creeping into the arcanum. We got into an altercation and Wyrm emerged from his fathers room… I thought we had woken him but I watched him walk into his bedroom, pick up that, *gestures to keening* and climb onto nerevar attempting to cut his face off.

Nerevar: *finally got voryn to calm down enough to rest again* He was sleepwalking again… another nightmare, one I suspect he’s had plenty of times before now… *shakily grips his mug making the tea in it ripple* and one I remember vividly myself…

Enthir: *ears tucking back as he sighs* had I of known the trouble those gauntlets would start… I’d of never of shown them to w-Ancano?… he was in here?

Taliesin: I heard movement in the arcanum, I saw Wyrms little pet spider did too, when I stepped into the library, he jumped from my shoulder and onto Ancanos face. He’d cast invisibility on himself with intent to sneak up on someone. I suspect he thought I was Wyrm. Why else would he be here?

Enthir: How on nirn did he get in? The doors are all locked how did hr get a key.

Taliesin: speaking as a- former member of the thalmor. He was known for gaining entry to, less cooperative talos worshipping suspects homes. He said it was through persuasion but, I wouldn’t put it past him to-

Enthir: pick the locks… he’d of had to have come through the front doors then, the midden one is warded.

Nerevar: *clenching his jaw* If he’s a threat to our Pearl. Why is he still here?…

Enthir: He’s finalising his report for the dominion… If we send him back without due cause-

Taliesin: the dominion will close down or attack the college.

Enthir: what he said… *sighs* But you’re right to be concerned. Wyrms in danger with him here…

Nerevar: I’ll have a word with the arch mage… I think he’d be more inclined to take… Advice. From me.

Enthir: *ears shifting* please don’t kill the arch mage *rubs his face in exasperation* we’ve dealt with too much instability already. And right now it’s the last thing Wyrm needs. *carries blankets to Wyrms room*

Nerevar: *watches him go before looking at Taliesin* Let’s find out what Ancano is up to.

Taliesin: … *fixes his robe* I’d rather cut his throat. But we’ll do your idea first.

[zealouscanonindeer]

Pretentiousness and Packing

Dr John Watson:

Holmes returned after, in my estimate, an hour or so later bearing no remarkable findings than before. He passed me the slip, the laconic message leaving me further discombobulated. What a strange happening this was turning out to be!

“What do you make of it Holmes?”

“Watson, pray do not vocalise your confusion.” 

With that he picked up the latest edition of the times, swiftly scanning the pages until he happened to land on the latest establishment in Scotland yards heroic attempt in dissolving the fearfully elusive age-old crime syndicate of London. Presently, he returned to reality, commenting with an air of light conceit.  

“Lestrade would have been better off coming to me, I have no apprehensions regarding the innocence of these so-called criminals. I shall only pity at the humiliation the yard shall face at the court hearing.”

Before I could inquire at his remark, he continued. 

“An establishment of skilled and well-worn men in the games of crime, with their resources and acquaintances in the undergrounds of London would hardly be unable to protect themselves from a clumsy trap such as this. No, Watson they are very much alive and zealous in their dubious workings, only now they reside their evils elsewhere. Lestrade, the imbecile is truly oblivious to the presence of the plainest facts, even if they are right under his nose.”

“Really now, Holmes” I countered rather tartly. 

I sprang to my feet seizing the slip of paper and placing it neatly on the table before us, gently smoothening it over with my hand. Next, I grabbed the curiously positioned numbers and placed it next to the slip. Lastly, I added the list of imprinted words, jotted down by Holmes, and gave him a look of reproach.

“There, I lay the facts before you, right under your very nose. I am too obtuse of any of them, I do hope you shall shed some light on the matter.”

I sat watching my friend study the contents intensely when a sudden change grasped him. His angular countenance reflective of his concentration, his jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed and he clicked his fingers three times in a fervent fashion. With a cry of elation, sprang to his feet, shaking in excitement and grasped me by my shoulders. 

“Truly, I would be lost without my Boswell.”

He then threw himself into various texts of cryptology and remained immersed there until I took myself to bed. The morning came with nervous anticipation as no sooner had my eyes opened and adjusted to the tepid sunlit room than I was on my feet and scurrying to see what the previous evenings scrutiny had mustered. Holmes, was quite unusually passed out on the chaise lounge, his smoking pipe next to his hand. He seemed to have dropped it when he lulled to sleep. After all, he was only human too. My rush had been rather noisy and he stirred, his sleep ridden eyes dark against the sallow skin pulled over his aquiline cheekbones.  

“Aha, Watson. I must admit I have been rather dense in underestimating Emily. Never again, never again.” He muttered more to himself than me.

“You see it was never meant to be a letter, it was a cipher, quite a neat little one. Very clever indeed. Posed a challenge even to a mind such as mine, however once the pattern was established the rest fell into place.”

“These words arranged in particular order, the boxes correspond to the words and the number inside to the alphabet placed at that position. There you have a secret message. Try it for yourself.”

I scrambled to attain a pencil and began jotting down the letters as per the instructing numbers. 

“Surely this can’t make much sense, this reads as oriart nwerne doutwindowfra”

“Precisely, this is termed as what one would call a betwixillary cipher, fairly new I presume for even I was somewhat a stranger to it. I must learn where Emily came across this interesting piece herself.”

“Now look. The words My Dear Holmes must be divided right down the middle and placed at the far ends of your written letters. And hullo! There is the message.”

The incoherent words transformed to comprehension; they ran thus- Moriarty Denwer near holdout window-frames.

“Whatever is this Moriarty? Something is amiss Holmes. Denver is spelt with a ‘v’ not a ‘w’.”

“Indeed, it is ingenious. Emily, concealed her cipher commendably with a simple misspelling. A person looking for any inkling would be alerted by the v and could unscramble her efficient code. By simply disguising it she alluded her pursuer from any signs of Denver at all. A classic case of creative misdirection.”

“As for this Moriarty, it is in every way, I am convinced connected to our sinister syndicate. The source of it all? Or merely an accomplice? Or their secret to success? We shall soon know. The enormous pile of paper accounts for her attempts at ciphering I surmise and their incineration a rather clumsy move. I am still, however quite uncertain of a few aspects of our singular case. We must hurry to Denver, the rest on our way.” 

He patted me on the shoulder and shrugged out of his dressing gown and proceeded to clasp his breeches into position and tucked his shirtsleeves, pulling on his jacket and reaching for his inverness when he sharply turned to face me.

“Come now, hurry up man. We haven’t a moment to lose. Where the deuce is my overnight bag?”

“It is, I believe still lying packed since our previous journey. Mrs. Hudson’s weariness shoved in under your chemistry table.”

“There it is! Saved me the trouble of packing. Now Watson, if you shall arm yourself with your revolver and toothbrush and cover up against the country side chill, we shall be fit to leave.”

“Off to Denver then.” I announced, clicking my revolver into place.

[anna-heintzelman]

Circus Maximus

As I embarked on my exciting journey towards the southwesterly orientation from Palatine Hill, lo and behold - much to my surprise, an unforeseen stroke of fortune smiled upon me. My senses were ignited by the awe-inspiring Circus Maximus monument located in Rome; a mammoth-sized edifice that was erected with exceptional engineering prowess. Although rupestral remnants can be observed strewn across its terrain, one cannot dismiss or underestimate its majestic presence and noteworthy significance that has endured up until today's modern times. Circus Maximus' predominant purpose for being built during yesteryear was rooted in providing exhilarating chariot races deemed as Ancient Rome's most beloved spectacles which spanned over varying epochs throughout history. The memory of this monumental masterpiece shall forever linger within our hearts and minds as a testimony to human endurance while serving as evidence attesting to innovative techniques used during antiquity-era constructions whereby timeless architectural masterpieces are still present to date!

The Circus Maximus, an esteemed amphitheater of exceptional magnificence, never ceases to inspire awe in all who behold it. Renowned worldwide for its unprecedented ability to hold up to 150,000 eager spectators at any given time; this venue remains unmatched by others of its kind today. It is the captivating chariot races that have long been considered its main attraction - a stunning display sure enough to leave onlookers perched precariously upon their seats and gasping as they watch competitors race around the grand spine or "spina" with thrilling twists and turns spanning precisely seven laps. However, beyond these enthralling performances lies yet more splendor waiting within - resplendent monuments towering high overhead above immaculately maintained interiors decorate every inch throughout which dazzling spectacles play out before wrapt audiences awestruck in wonderment. Walking amongst these historic grounds still relatively unchanged even centuries after reaching their pinnacle era aboundingly transports one back into the past evoking fond nostalgia through vivid echoes reverberating audibly beneath our feet during each step taken therein so immersed are we made once again surrounded wholly within ambiance mixed liberally alongside adrenaline-rushing moments impossible truly unless experienced firsthand yourself! Indeed conversations aplenty brimming over details regarding such unforgettable moments captivate significantly whilst fully experiencing them encompasses much more than mere memories alone could ever encompass including imagination fueled deliberately deepening your sense- heightened acuity expanding subtly unto realms verging barely outside times gone but not unheard neither unseen thus allowing us now feel like ourselves present amidst those daring exploits none shall forget anytime soon!

[asaarii]

Intro Dialogue

goddess!reader ft: Liu Kang, Johnny Cage reader: fem wc: 607

Liu Kang:

[Name]: Do you doubt my abilities, Liu Kang?

Liu Kang: I could never doubt you, my love. Neither in this timeline nor in any other.

--

Liu Kang: Let’s see if you’re still up to par after all these eons. [Name]: Hah! I could say the same for you, dearest.

--

Liu Kang: Would you like to join me later in viewing the stars?

[Name]: Do you really have to ask?

--

[Name]: You are the light to my darkness, without you, I am nothing.

Liu Kang: The same can be said for me, my love.

--

[Name]: Please, dear, take a break. Allow me to take over your duties for the time being after this. Liu Kang: Earthrealm needs its protector…But I suppose a small tea break wouldn’t hurt.

--

[Name]: Did you have to make Johnny so…eccentric?

Liu Kang: Hah, he wouldn’t be Johnny Cage if he wasn’t.

--

Liu Kang: Despite the passage of time, you are still as beautiful as the day I met you. [Name]: Flattery will not make me go easy on you, Liu Kang.

--

[Name]: Kenshi going blind was not your fault, dearest. Please do not blame yourself. Liu Kang: I know. I just wish he could have bonded with Sento without suffering.

--

Liu Kang: Have I ever told you how thankful I am to have you by my side?

[Name]: Every day, Liu Kang, every day.

--

[Name]: The shadows yearn for your presence, dearest.

Liu Kang: Where there is light, there is dark.

--

[Name]: Did you make me fall for you in this timeline?

Liu Kang: No, never. I create, not dictate.

--

Liu Kang: Your presence in this timeline soothes me more than you could ever know. [Name]: I’m glad to be of service then.

--

Liu Kang: Even if you were to fall to your darkness, I would be there to bring you back to the light. [Name]: That’s all I ask of you, Liu Kang.

--

Liu Kang: With my position as Keeper of Time restored, our time together is now finite. [Name]: Then I shall treasure each moment we share together.

Johnny Cage:

Johnny: Holy shit! I can’t believe I moved a goddess to tears with a movie!

[Name]: Shut it, Cage! I simply underestimated how passionately mortals could play pretend.

--

Johnny: If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.

[Name]: I’m not quite sure I understand…Do you wish for me to turn us both into birds of the night?

--

[Name]: From what I’ve witnessed from Kung Lao, human courtship is quite…peculiar.

Johnny: Well it worked on you, didn’t it? Or is it just because I’m me?

--

Johnny: Are you sure I can’t film in your temple—

[Name]: You never do give up, do you?

--

[Name]: You’re so…!

Johnny: Perfect? I know you don’t have to tell me twice, babe.

--

Johnny: I love being with a woman who could just kill me…

[Name]: An odd request, but let’s see if you can really handle her.

--

[Name]: For the last time, I want no part in your film, Cage!

Johnny: Aww c’mon, please? I just know the critics’ll go crazy for you and your shadows, baby! 

--

[Name]: Johnny, I’m not sure I’m understanding. What exactly is a “noob”?

Johnny: It’s a—You know what? I think you should ask Bi-Han about that one, babe.

--

[Name]: I’ve come to offer you an accord.

Johnny: Does it come with a ring?

--

Johnny: What about a small bet, eh? Loser does the dishes for a month.

[Name]: I will not be privy to your petulant, mortal schemes again, Cage.

--

[Name]: Jonathan. Carlton. 

Johnny: Uh oh—Full government? Let’s see what I’ve done to piss the missus off this time. 

a/n: requests are open!! please feel free to send in a request ©asarii 2023 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

[shammah8]

THE POWER OF PERMISSION In connection with the law of agreement, we should never underestimate the power of permission. The word permission is defined as “consent” or “authorization.”2 Throughout this book, we have talked about how familiar spirits are constantly seeking our agreement for them to operate in our lives. We must always be mindful of what we grant permission to because, again, whatever we permit, we authorize; and whatever we authorize, we empower.

God warned the Israelites not to make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land of Canaan, or it could become a “snare” to them:

Take heed to yourself, lest you make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land where you go, lest it be for a snare in the midst of you: but you shall destroy their altars, break their images, and cut down their groves: for you shall worship no other god: for the LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God: lest you make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land, and they go a whoring after their gods, and do sacrifice to their gods, and one call you, and you eat of his sacrifice; and you take of their daughters to your sons, and their daughters go a whoring after their gods, and make your sons go a whoring after their gods. (Exodus 34:12–16) As we consider this passage, let’s review the relationship between spiritual permission and legal rights. For the Israelites’ own protection, God admonished His people to refrain from unsanctioned covenants with pagan nations. The Lord knew that these covenants could open demonic portals that would lead Israel into spiritual bondage. The same principle is true for us today. It is not enough for us to refrain from evil ourselves; we must also refrain from agreement with those who practice evil.

Can you imagine giving your friend a ride to a liquor store so they could rob it? And suppose this friend were caught. Would you be surprised if you were arrested along with them? Now picture yourself standing before the judge and asking, “Why am I being charged with robbery?” You would probably be scoffed at in the courtroom. Why?

Because you were a willing accomplice and accessory to a crime.

You did not commit the physical act, but you gave consent, permission, authorization, and support for the crime to be perpetrated.

Demons recognize the power of the permissions we grant. That is why they are constantly seeking to deceive believers into giving consent to their plans. Remember this: the devil cannot do anything in your life without your permission! Demons cannot come into your house without your authorization; this is why what you allow into your home is so important. Many believers are bringing in ungodly artifacts, objects, paintings, and other points of contact that invite evil spirits. Countless other Christians are watching pernicious images like pornographic films that bring familiar spirits into their home environments. It is sad to even think that many children are exposed to pornography in Christian homes. I do not say this to condemn anyone who may be struggling in these areas but to give deeper insight into places in your life that may be creating an atmosphere that is antithetical to the presence of God.☕KYNAN BRIDGES

[adedots]

Kcm Daily Devotional 12 April 2023 -- Weapon of Praise

Kcm Daily Devotional 12 April 2023 -- Weapon of Praise Kcm Kenneth Copeland Daily Devotional 12 April 2023 -- Weapon of Praise FROM FAITH TO FAITH DEVOTIONAL 12 April 2023 BY KENNETH COPELAND MINISTRIES -- Weapon of Praise KENNETH COPELAND MINISTRIES KCM DAILY DEVOTIONAL 12 April 2023 -- Weapon of Praise

KCM DAILY DEVOTIONAL 12 April 2023

TOPIC: Weapon of Praise CLICK HERE FOR other daily devotional contents Click Here For More Of KCM Daily Devotionals Kcm Daily Devotional April 2023 | Weapon of Praise You May Also like: KCM daily devotional -- Meditate on the word FROM FAITH TO FAITH DEVOTIONAL April 2023 BY KENNETH COPELAND MINISTRIES KENNETH COPELAND MINISTRIES KCM DAILY DEVOTIONAL 12 April 2023 | Weapon of Praise You May Also like: KCM daily devotional -- Extremely Blessed You May Also like: kcm daily devotional -- a firm foundation I will praise thee, O Lord, with my whole heart; I will show forth all thy marvellous works. I will be glad and rejoice in thee: I will sing praise to thy name, O thou most High. When mine enemies are turned back, they shall fall and perish at thy presence. Psalm 9:1-3 Click here for more FROM FAITH TO FAITH DAILY DEVOTIONAL You May Also like: kcm daily devotional -- let your life begin again You May Also like: kcm daily devotional -- leave the past behind

KCM DAILY DEVOTIONAL 12 April 2023

MESSAGE: Never underestimate the importance of praise. It’s one of the most powerful spiritual weapons you have. Praise is more than a pleasant song or a few uplifting words about God. It does something. It releases the very presence of God Himself. And, when the presence of God comes on the scene, your enemies are turned back. Sickness and disease can’t stay on your body. Poverty can’t stay in your house. Even physical weariness has to flee when it’s faced with real joy-filled praise. I know that from experience. Years ago, when I first began conducting “Healing School,” I had a real battle with fatigue. I’d minister and lay my hands on the sick for so many hours at a time that by the time the meeting had ended, I was sometimes too physically weak even to close the service. Then, in one particular meeting, I discovered the power of praise. I had just finished praying for those in the prayer line and, as usual, I was exhausted. But instead of rest, the Spirit of the Lord impressed on me that what I needed was to rejoice in the Lord. So, I did. I began to praise the Lord with my whole heart, mind and body. Do you know what happened? The tiredness left me. And I was energized with the presence of God! The next time the devil tries to stifle your effectiveness, to drain you of the strength and wealth and victory that’s yours in Jesus, turn him back with that powerful weapon. Lift your hands and your voice and whole heart to God. Praise! Scripture Reading: 2 Chronicles 20:1-22 You May Also like: KCM daily devotional -- Run him out of town You May Also like: kcm daily devotional -- Give God a way in

KCM DAILY DEVOTIONAL 12 April 2023

Click here for more FROM FAITH TO FAITH DAILY DEVOTIONAL Click here for more FROM FAITH TO FAITH DAILY DEVOTIONAL Victory comes one day at a time. Get a word of encouragement…a word of inspiration…a word of faith every day of the year. Kenneth Copeland Ministries' mission is to minister the Word of Faith, by teaching believers who they are in Christ Jesus; taking them from the milk of the Word to the meat, and from religion to reality. Kenneth Copeland Ministries From Faith to Faith (kcm) Daily Devotional was written by Kenneth and Gloria Copeland of Eagle Mountain International Church Inc. A.k.a Kenneth Copeland Ministries. CLICK HERE FOR other daily devotional contents The sweetest and biggest thing to ever happen to you is to make a decision to be saved through JESUS CHRIST. If you have not made that decision. Please make that decision now and say " Lord Jesus forgive me for my sins and have mercy on me, thank you for dying for me on the cross, take me as your son / daughter and be my father. THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME, in JESUS CHRIST NAME AMEN. God bless you. Don't forget to share with your friends and families on social media so they can be blessed and be blessings to others. God bless you

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[bluedevilsrpg]

MADAME MASSACRE

NAVIGATOR. W. ( 32-35 ) Kuroki Meisa. TW: death, war, murder, implied abuse.

HISTORY

DRUNK ON BLOOD, DRUNK ON FLESH - IT HURTS AND YET YOU CAN NOT STOP FROM WATCHING IT SLICE, AGAIN GOES THE KNIFE. But before the anguish, before the rage, there was a child so desperately clawing to live. In the flames of a frivolous war rationed by the tongues of nobility, it was hardworking, poor laboring families that paid the price. Alone, you stood on top of a burning hill. An orphaned child, you demanded to be wanted, needed, made useful like a weapon and stripped of humanity. The thing about your tragedy is that you were lost in the moment of your becoming: your life never permitted innocence or purity - you were forged in brutality, in hostility, in sadistic, arrogant smiles. You learned quickly between mistakes and survival, at all costs, at all prices; it would be your hand to slaughter. So you embraced the terror and the grotesque unbecoming of murderous lunacy like second skin. 

So what happens to the girl who was handed a knife and taught to kill?  She kills a part of herself again and again. Power was for the rich, strength for the poor. Your tainted fingers commit every despicable act imaginable with your two hands and what remains is not a woman, not a human, but a weapon. Vengeance to those who stole from you, wrath upon the bastards who cost you your sister. Sleepless nights pass and you exist between the boundaries of madness and hysteria. There is only silence in killing. So again and again, your blades strike. Madame Massacre, Mistress of Murder - Monstress all in one. 

CONNECTIONS

SAINT GUILLOTINE ⌱ YOU’D LOOK BEAUTIFUL LYING IN A GRAVE

The past is a blurry fog of miserable hauntings and unforgettable regrets. The empire that destroyed your family was the same one to forge you into a waking weapon. You had nearly forgotten what companionship was until he held out his hand in what appeared to be an offering. Foolish girl, you believed in the kindness, in the chuckles and the intimacy of your own vulnerabilities open and outright. You didn’t see the knife he held behind his back, nor did you see the freedom he touted when he slaughtered the weak. He taught you cruelty and hopelessness when he threw you into prison. And the little good you clung onto has morphed into horror and hatred. You learned of the peace in annihilation. Perhaps one day you shall thank him with a taste of your personal retribution.

GOD KILLER & RAZOR FIST ⌱  MY LEGACY WRITES AND REWRITES

You knew them once as close as family, or perhaps it was the shared fate of a generation past. Your father and theirs making their mark in the world with their legendary travels beyond the great seas, notorious pirates of the Greatest Generation, their list of accolades shining brilliantly in tales sung. Their fathers were memorialized by their sons. And you? You were ignored and undermined because of your family's early demise. Injustice lies in the heroes made by man; how dare they overlook you, the last to stand in honor of your family’s name. Despite the desire to fuel your unending rage, it is only GOD KILLER and RAZOR FIST that remain as the last link to your father’s legacy, a world that is a dream away.

FLOWER OF ICE ⌱  I WILL WATCH UNTIL THE HYMN ENDS AND TEAR OPEN YOUR HEART

Sensitive to the presence of strangers, you saw the shadows that lurked in the corridors of the palace. You played the part of a fool, underestimating the woman and mistaking her interest as sybaritic fixation. It isn’t until she begins to appear in the corners of all the places you step that you find yourself met with something inexplicably wicked. She burns down a village that reminds you so much of your home. The grief presents itself in a cold, cruel threat - one where you could so easily snap her by the throat. She trembles before you but it is not fear that glitters from her eyes, rather, she smiles and murmurs her prayers to you in worship. You feel only hatred for a woman made in immoral depravity. And yet, she saves your life with a gruesome gift in tow. You ignore her pursuit but sink further into an internal battle of desire and disgust. 

LITTLE MISS RED ⌱ WHAT IS THERE TO FEAR IN A GIRL WHO’S ONLY EVER KNOWN GOLD

You can’t help but hate her for everything that she is and stands for. But perhaps deep within the hatred is an innate dream of what your life could have been if you were born into prestige like she was. A girl who became a woman with little to no wants could have never labored in the methods you did. Even now, you only see her as someone who has found herself in this wretched madness of her own accord. This new life that she selected was never a choice for you. She plays the role with an insufferable naivete. She reminds you of your family and the innocence that cost them their lives. You can’t look at her without seeing the past and the future that taunts you in your nightmares. It is far simpler to despise what you do not know.

MADAME MASSACRE IS OPEN & THEIR SPECIAL STAT IS STRENGTH.

[putrid-tongue]

are  they  all  nothing  but  soldiers  of  tin,  in  the  end?  children's  toys,  to  be  deplaced  and  broken  and  battered—  scattered  with  the  wind  by  an  arbiter  of  fate  whom  they  cannot  battle?  when  ire  is  struck,  are  they  to  bow  and  burrow?  be  it  first-  or  secondborn  of  eru's  design,  FATE  HAD  BEEN  A  YOKE  TO  THEM  ALL.  and  yet,  he  cannot  muster  sympathy  in  his  heart  for  her,  or  what  suffering  collected  in  the  silver  dew  of  her  spirit  over  the  long  centuries  of  her  enduring  upon  arda.  hers  is  a  reprieve  in  golden  lands  yonder;  if  she  so  chooses.  hers  is  a  dwelling  removed  from  time,  if  she  passes.  that  he  knows,  and  that  is  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  pertaining  to  the  elves  and  their  undying  spirits.  whereas  he  is  graced  with  limited  years,  the  heaviness  of  his  suffering  all  the  darker  in  uncertainty.  what  does  she  know?

her  arrogance  prods  him—  and  where  selfless  kindness  has  never  existed  in  his  heart,  he  is  yet  full  of  emotion.  quick  to  ANGER  and  a  FOUL  TEMPER  &&  cruel  thoughts  made  manifest.  raising  his  hand,  the  tall  ârûwânai  abandons  his  great  steed  upon  which  he  had  lead  the  host  of  the  hunt.  around  the  lady  celebrían,  guldur  uruks  reluctantly  step  back.  they  do  not  trust  the  man,  and  are  hesitant  to  follow  the  orders  of  an  unproven,  of  one  not  their  own.  she  is  left  in  her  shackles,  and  they  form  a  tight  ring  around  her.

mordú  does  not  have  the  disposition,  nor  the  making  of  a  warrior.  he  wears  the  robes  of  a  sage  of  his  people,  the  colored  beads  adorning  his  chest  and  his  belt  expressing  his  professions  mastered  to  his  peers.  though  the  fabrics  are  dark  and  hardy  &&  the  thuds  of  his  heavy  boots  upon  wet  ground  akin  to  the  heartbeat  of  a  menacing  beast.

❛  i  believe  i  can  make  it  so.  i  know  i  can  make  it  so.  know  this:  'ere  my  fate  be  taken  from  me  again,  i  rather  see  this  world  plunged  into  the  depths  of  despair.  though,  until  such  inevitablity  hits,  i  will  strive  to  gift  to  my  fellows  a  world  where  no  greater  power  beyond  reason  and  reckoning  takes  their  homes.  takes  their  history,  and  their  love,  and  their  passions  and  achievements  in  one  fell  swoop.  i  will  not  suffer  it,  never  again.  yet  what  knowest  you,  elf  maid?  you,  who  is  welcome  amongst  golden  boughs  of  paradise,  where  pain  and  suffering  are  but  a  distant  memory?  your  arrogance  befits  your  kind.  ❜

his  lips  turn  to  a  sneer,  the  darkness  of  his  brow  casting  a  shadow  over  brilliant  eyes  as  he  juts  his  chin.  to  himself  he  may  admit  that  he  had  underestimated  her  radiance.  where  they  met,  betwixt  reality  and  distant  dream,  she  had  been  but  a  specter  of  great  power.  terrible  in  melancholy  and  love,  yet  bearable  to  behold.  seeing  her  now  however  rattles  him.  his  thoughts  tangle  in  the  gossamer  of  her  radiance,  and  the  gentleness  therein.  almost  enough  to  make  his  knees  buckle,  filling  him  with  something  profoundly  unknown.  a  selfless  love  and  kindness.  yet  mordú  cannot  wrap  his  head  around  it,  make  heads  and  tails  of  it.  'tis  a  BLIGHT,  he  decides.

❛  methinks  the  lady  celebrían  has  grown  too  comforable.  shall  we  remind  her  of  her  fate  and  the  folly  of  hubris?  quick,  we  return  to  dol  guldur—  our  purpose  here  is  fulfilled.  ❜

looking  over  his  shoulder,  his  steed  joins  him  with  a  quiet  huff.  in  the  presence  of  orcs  it  remains  calm,  and  nothing  but  a  flattening  of  its  ears  so  close  to  the  elven  maid  betrays  that  it  is  no  equine  of  the  free  plains  where  sky  and  ground  become  one—  nor  a  proud  horse  of  anadûnê.  it  too  finds  its  origins  in  shade  and  darkness.

A  SHARPNESS  MUSTERED  IS  STILL  A  DULL  LITTLE  BLADE.  soundless  ire  slumbers  under  radiant  flesh,  moonstruck  as  the  shroud  upon  her  head.  offered  in  broken  fragments  of  valar's  grace,  no  veil  between  them.  were  she  crafted  of  violent  delights  she  would  have  reached  out  already.  she  would  have  bled  open  malevolent  wounds  and  the  stream  unhallow  ground.  her  fëa  does  not  hold  such  shadow,  only  conjuring  solace  for  lost  spirits  seeking  refuge.

slow  iron  rolls  up  her  delicate  spine,  initial  jump  curls  into  herself.  fear  makes  home  beside  the  spark  of  flame.  eyes  of  devastation,  a  stolen  hue  of  simarils  gold  fixed  upon  the  servant  of  unfathomable  evil.  ❛ you  believe  your  destiny  is  of  your  own  making?  ❜ a  scoff  of  laughter  empty,  near  cruel  if  it  wasn't  for  the  touch  of  spring.  glower  that  can  hardly  muster  itself  as  an  agent  of  courage  still  holds  upon  him.  malice  she  sees,  ANGER  festered  and  released  from  a  weakened  shackle  of  the  maw,  another  rabid  wolf  kept  in  the  grip  of  a  hand  that  feeds  agony.  sins  of  forebearers,  the  blood  of  those  which  his  master  FEARS  her  only  crime.

❛ if  you  prefer  a  slap,  unbind  my  hands  and  i  will  grant  you  such  mercy.  ❜ the  first  ever  administered  from  her  hand,  head  tilted  in  a  feign  of  curiosity.  shackles  lamenting  against  the  echo  of  decaying  stone.  ❛ your  keeper  abhors  your  kind  and  exploits  what  he  perceives  as  their  weaknesses.  ❜ still,  she  sings,  harmony  a  tune  of  breaking  softness.  ❛ destiny  is  not  your  own  but  his.  you'll  be  enslaved  to  his  deception  until  the  void  devours  you.  ❜ 

[raspberrilady]

Love Formula || William James Moriarty x Reader

type: angst to comfort

To be honest, you don't think you will pass the next exam.

William James Moriarty is a great professor whose reputation catches up, if not underestimates, his talent for teaching.

The quotations on the blackboard are clear and very easy to understand, and the quiet sound of crayon against the surface never sounded as peaceful as now. People suddenly started to know what is written in their textbooks and can even make some math-related puns, which send the whole class chuckling every time.

The problem with your new professor is that he's a little bit too mesmerizing.

When he talks, you don't focus on what is he talking about, but you let yourself drown in a melodic tone of his voice. The image of his scarlet eyes lives in your head constantly, even when he's nowhere at the sight, and as they meet with yours, lungs, in lieu of breath, are filled with expectation and butterflies that probably have nothing to do with math.

...

Minutes flow by. Time at professor Moriarty's lectures isn't passing faster than at other classes, because, at those hours, you try to enjoy every second in presence of this young professor, mindlessly scribbling some formulas from the board, and not noticing an increasing amount of glances thrown your way.

You sigh softly, feeling your wrist becoming sore for writing so much. Still, you have now six pages of notes! They will be the key to your upcoming success at the next exam.

“Miss [Name]...?”

At the voice, your head shots up in direction of the professor.

He's smiling charmingly, with no sense of disapproval in his scarlet eyes, only worry. “...Is my lecture that boring?”

“Of course not, professor!” You protest instantly, a dark blush creeps on your cheeks as you feel the weight of many eyes set at you. “I... I really hope that I will be able to use the knowledge from these studies to help other people.” His gaze softens at your words, a new sparkle in your eyes arises, but the guilty still seize your throat. “...but I probably should still focus a little bit more. I'm terribly sorry, professor...”

“Don't apologize.” He says, coming closer to you. The next words come out as a whisper, a comforting tone that melts you at the spot; you need to bite inside of your cheek to keep focused. “Let's just make a promise between each other, hmm? Come twenty minutes early before our morning lectures. I have on eye actually two other students, who are a little bit distracted, and I am worried that the next topic might be too complex if you don't master the basics. Just two weeks, and I will let you all sleep that half an hour more.”

“I-I will!” You respond quickly, and dark blush creeps on your cheeks. Now you don't know if you are more enamoured or flushed at the prospect of extra lessons. “Thank you so much, professor.”

“My pleasure, [Name],” he says with his chocolate warm voice and finally moves away from you; only then you can breathe normally again. William shifts his attention back to class. “Alright. Let's move on, shall we?”

You couldn't call it a friendship, but starting the day with a rather casual discussion on mind-cracking topics brings people closer.

The first lesson was accompanied by a tense atmosphere, the second by the nervous sound of flipping the notes, the third ended with no-good jokes, for the fourth everyone was prepared, and from fifth, you were back to living on crossroads of daydreaming and learning.

A smug smile appears on William's face and you realize that it's dedicated to you. The rest of the three-personed audience is carefully taking notes. “Bored already, [Name]? We are only ten minutes in.”

“No- I, uh, was... thinking.”

“Surely. Mind if I ask for your thoughts?”

“I, sincerely, don't think they would bring anything new for the topic, professor.”

“Some people would say that words change the meaning depending on whose lips they come from.”

“Yeah, well... The theory we were talking about is long... and although it is logical, it's also... not.”

“That isn't helping your case.” His lips curve in a sincere smile. One of those, that make your heart pour itself in warmth, and burn. “Shall we go through it again, step by step?”

“Don't you think he's so handsome?”

“You bet! I bet—no, I know, I see! Not going to lie, I sure would like to attend his classes. Who knows, maybe I would be more than just a student.”

And there is a laugh. “Very charming.”

There is something in those words that stir your stomach in a very wrong way. Two ladies that talk next to you are loud enough for you to catch every word. You don't want to let the overheard discussion sink in your mind, but their words still echo in your head.

You want to walk away, but an invisible force—you call it a curiosity—keeps your feet on the ground and makes you pretend that you're awfully interested in the book on your lap. After all, they are talking about your favourite person in this university.

How could you resist?

The first lady continues. “But really, do you think he would date you? I can't see him as a type to date around.”

“Try me.” The second lady replies you are sure she is wearing a smug smile at the moment. You envy her confidence. “Oh, oh, oh, look! He's coming. I will get him to ask me for a date, just watch.”

“Good luck!” The first lady laughs heartily, and you start to regret staying. Now you can't even pretend you aren't looking at William and the lady, as it consumes your whole attention.

They exchange smiles and polite formulas, but you can only assume that from body movement since they stay too far away.

Each minute passes—each feels like an eternity—and with each eternity your heart dries and feels very uncomfortable in your chest. They don't stop talking after ten minutes. Chuckles and subtle flirting (mostly from the lady's side) repeat more and more, and more, and... and you assume that the lady's plan is starting to work.

A heavier, more monotone heartbeat that you listen to, is the only form of reassurance, as you start walking again. Your step hastens and you find yourself rushing to get William out of your sight.

...Was it jealousy?

Do you even have a right to be jealous? Who did you think you were? You're a damn introvert, five conversations and some shared glances weren't the sign that he might like you. It was his job to talk to you.

...So, why, if none of these love-things really happened, your chest hurts so unbearably much?

There is something wrong.

The thought crossed William's mind the moment you entered the class, but at the end of the day, he was sure of it.

No more shared glances.

No desperate tries to answer questions or just try to guess the answer.

No flustered smiles with a pleasant sigh of the incredible amount of crimson blushes on your face.

None.

Instead of it, your eyes dig daggers in the book in front of you, as you don't dare to look up. Both of you know, that if there would be any form of contact, William would get a reaction from you. But the questions that are addressed to the class are answered with silence from you, and the questions for just you meet with a quick “I don't know”, almost whispered and without any emotion.

These two hours of lecture are some kind of torture for him.

It was hard to accept it, but he started to grow a liking to his “professor side” of life. And if not the perfect alibi, teaching youngers to use their mind to help the country, the reason that started to get important, especially in last month was you.

He started to think a lot about you. At first not in a very romantic way, but after a chat with Moran, who, if given, will tease everyone—Fred, Bond, and sometimes Louis—about their lacking love life, something in William's mind clicks.

The only person he would like to test Moran's advice would be... you?

William wasn't one to have the love distress that would keep him up all night, but he started dreaming about something else than changing the unfair and brutal society. If... If there was a chance that he is going to live...

No, he shouldn't be thinking that.

It doesn't stop him from figuring out what is wrong and why are trying so hard to ignore William's existence.

The lecture ends.

“[Name], could you please stay after class for a few minutes?” He says calmly as if he didn't notice how quickly you tucked your books into your bag. You look at him with startled eyes, brow start to furrow in worry, but you slowly nod.

It doesn't take even two minutes before you two are left alone in a classroom—a longer break, the dinner one, is always the most awaited one and because of that most of the students are rather focused on what they are going to eat rather than why their classmate is being stopped.

Very soon, you are aware of the scarlet eyes on you. You have spent hours watching your professor, but you never saw the expression he shows you now. It's the combination of frustration and hurt, which maintains itself only in those crimson irises—nothing else bewrays him.

“Is everything okay?” He asks casually when you stand in front of him. You just smile hesitantly and shrug. “I noticed you were more absent than usually, [Name].”

“Everything is alright, professor.” It wasn't a smooth lie, and he sighs soundlessly.

William goes through his memory once again—what could he have done wrong? Where was the last time you smiled so brilliantly at him?

You... You probably still were “okay” at the first lecture. So what has happened next? There was a break... And he was going to put some folders away... But some lady crossed his way and engaged him in a funny—in his consideration—discussion.

Oh, could it be...?

He starts with a subtle question. “Did the extra classes help you understand the material?”

“Yes... Yes, of course,” you reply. William hums in response and you speak up again. “Professor Moriarty... is something wrong?”

You got another hum in response but also a smile. “What if I told you that you're my favourite student?” At your questionable look, his lips curl almost into a slight smug. “You're very charming.”

“Wha... What? M-me?” You glance around the room, and your nervousness takes a delighted chuckle out of William's lips.

“Of course. I was very sad after you stopped paying attention.”

“I was paying attention! But... I stopped paying it... uh, later...” You stutter, cursing yourself at your awkwardness. “I planned to review everything in my room since we aren't... having a special class today.”

“Hm? Why is that so?”

“Ah... There was... Well... Didn't the lady from another class... ask you out at the last break?”

“How could I do that, when the lady I'm interested in is staying just in front of me?”

A disbelieving smile is more than confirmation of your reciprocated feelings. Well, William would know that even without it. The subtle mutal pining was actually going through its golden time and he was more than happy to use the moment, now that you know how he feels.

He smiles.

“I will be more than happy to give you proof.”

And there it is. The lust.

As much as whole William's existence is dedicated to the whole society, now he wants to be selfish. This one time, with this one person, who might always care about him, when the world will hail him as the worst criminal in history.

He grabs your chin gently and kisses the corner of your mouth, slowly pushing you against the board. You let out a surprised gasp, but just after taking a short breath, William's lips fully cover yours and your mind goes blank, into pleasant silence in your mind, where only desire to have him close to you matters.

His eyes don't close when he kisses. He takes unimaginable pleasure in watching you melt under his touch, noticing how you unwittingly reach for him when he pulls away. It takes all his self-control not to go further with the kissing, biting your lip, but he knows he must stop.

After stepping away, he notes with satisfaction that you still need a break to catch your breath and cool down the blush. He doesn't even notice that the corners of his mouth are twisting in a sad, longing smile.

It was only a kiss, but you thank God for letting you live all those years to experience it with William James Moriarty.

“Now that I know you won't forget me,” he starts, playful stars appearing in his eyes, “let me properly court you after you graduate. It will take some time, I am sure it will be worth the wait... What do you think, [Name]?”

“I...”—the words stuck in your throat. You're too dazed from the kiss and too happy to express anything with words. The desperate look in your teary eyes must be enough—“I will get there.”

And if you stay longer, oh, who knows, he might start regretting whatever he planned for the future.

“I will wait for you, then.”

[taco-bell-mitchy]

Crush Rindou x f!reader

-A little crush is formed when you see people get beat the living shit out of them

Warning: mild language, soft rin, mentions of violence, some pet names are used,

In the city of roppangi, two infamous brothers roam the streets. Others shivering at their names and bowing in their presence. With a baton in one hand and fist full of hair in the other the other brother, Ran, continued to punch the stranger. Rindou, the younger brother, crouched down staring him in the face tauntingly. This became as daily thing between the two brothers. A past time, a hobby, a cute bonding activity for the two.

While a high-school student like me has a more calming hobby. I enjoy riding my bike after school doing whatever I feel like that day. Some days my friends accompany me but days like today they sadly couldn’t. I’ve heard a lot about the two brothers. How fast they took over the city. I found it stupid. They’re only a year older than me, like how are they not in school doing their work. It’s irritating to know that they’re out here being bad ass kids and beating up innocent people. I sound like an old lady but I believe it’s better than them.

I did fear to see them to be honest though. I jokingly say things about them with my friends and classmates as one does. I mean, they’re only a year older than us so most of us are amazed at their reputation. How scary could they possibly be? Right. As I hold my scraped knees and sit behind a tree, I then realized how scary they can be.

Today during my bike ride alone, I noticed the quiet streets. It felt more peaceful than most days. So when I decided to take a different route, and it was even quieter I became wary. An uneasy feeling pits in my stomach but I do get distracted at the peaceful scenery. The sky a deep shade of blue as clouds float in the air. The train can be heard from afar and small convenience stores rest with little to no customers. Along with the stray cats pondering about. It’s hard to feel so scared when everything is so lovely.

I slow my bike down, which wouldn’t hurt anyone right. Wrong. As soon as my heartbeat settled down I hear a loud screech. My peaceful moment came to a halt and at that moment I didn’t know what to feel. As I saw a group of men, some big some small but definitely not smaller than me, beating up another group of guys. I knew there was no other path so before anything I scurry into the side of the park. Ditching my bike as getting secure behind a tree.

I didn’t want to think that they’d hurt me just because I walked by but I’m not taking any chances. As the fight progressed more guys started spacing from each other’s, and unconscious bodies layed around. Each getting closer to you as more men are thrown around. It seems like 30 minutes go by until finally a silence can be heard.

“Roppangi prevails as they beat you guys once more!" A man shouts loudly. He’s quite bulky and is filled with small bruises, presumably from the fight. I notice the crowd looking one way. It wasn't at the bulky man, but rather two boys, presumably my age, standing next to the bulky man. They looked similar. With dark smiles and glaring dead eyes. The gang speach went on for a few more minutes. Until many started to clear out after loud cheers.

I stay still not waiting until no one is around. I see them carrying each other by the shoulders and others trying to wake their knocked out gang members. A few more minutes pass. Everyone seems to be gone, but two. The two boys stay sitting conversating with the bulky man. I was definitely more scared of the man rather than the two boys. So I waited and waited until he was released. The night was coming in already, I definitely underestimated how long fights can be. So as the bulky man leaves I give it a minute and run to my bike.

With a beating heart and fear in my viens I look down and walk as fast as I can past the boys. Until a slim body slams a baton on it my bike.

"Well well, what do we have here?" a sultry voice spoke, I can almost here the way he smiled. Not a kind one, but a way you'd see in a horror movie.

“I’m on my way home.” I spoke quietly still looking down. The one with blue streaks grabbed my bike shaking it a bit, “hmm? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be our so late yeah?” His gloved hand slowly slid over my bike reach my wrist. He slowly tapped it rubbing the finger pads of his glove across the skin. Then he grabbed it pulling me forward.

“Why’d you got dirt on your hands doll?” He raised a brow and the man with braids peeped in, “And some scrapes on your knees hmm?” I tried pulling my wrist away but it he held tighter.

“I fell off my bike earlier, no big deal.” I tried to act calm despite how I felt on the inside. The braided man touched my waist to grab it but I was pulled away from him by the other one.

“I’ll deal with her, can’t leave this pretty thing all alone.” Ran stared at his brothers out of character acting. “Whatever you say.” He let’s go walking away and waving to us bye. The blue streaked man stared at me with his round glasses, “shall we go?”

“Go where?”

“Your house of course.”

So here you were. Walking. With this random boy you didn’t know. It was awkward as you both had a hand on the bike trialing along silently. He hummed quietly.

“You know,” he began to speak, “we knew you were there the whole time.”

“WHAT.” I widened my eyes at his words. He laughed at my expression, “We’re not idiots. We can see you head peeking out the tree. It was quite amusing. Cute almost.” He smiled to me and I laughed.

“You’re quite scary you know.” His eyes opened a little more at my boldness, “Is that so?” I nodded saying a quiet ‘yup.’ He silently laughed.

“Do you know who I am.” I picked up my head a bit and shook my head, “should I?” I look into his eyes and at that my moment realize just who he is. Messy hair, the two boys look alike, delinquents, a baton, and the malicious violet eyes that said it all.

It was a Haitani. Assuming the younger one as the other man looked older.

“Oh my god.” I tightened my grip on the bike trying to pull it away from him, but he didn’t relent. “Rindou Haitani sweetheart.” I stayed looking down once more, so he spoke again, “I was surprised to see you today. You usually take a different route right.” This made my head jerk towards him.

“Im not a stalker or anything but I happen to see you a lot by chance, when I’m doing business.” I knew exactly what he meant by “business.” He looked down swinging his hand, “Believe it or not…I have wanted to talk to you but I’ve been to scared.” I felt a bit embarrassed and laughed a little too. A gangster who’s to embarrassed to talk to a pretty girl.

“Oh, I see.” We stayed silent as I looked up to finally see my house. “Well, we’re here. Thanks for walking bye.” I pursed my lips and awkwardly waved goodbye. But he stopped me by grabbing my bike tightly once more. “W-wait. I know I may come off as creepy or scary but I really do want a chance. So please,” he went into the bowing position and let go of the bike, “give me a chance!” I smiled warmly at this. A delinquent bowing down to me? And especially with the tips of his ears a tint of red.

He looked up at me as I pat his head softly, “I guess I could give you a chance. There’s definitely a lot to work out but I don’t mind being friends for now, yeah?” He cleared his throat, “yeah, that’d be great.” We stood smiling at each other for a second then finally waging goodbye.

I threw myself into my bed and kicked my legs into the air. I guess I have a crush.

A crush on Rindou Haitani.

Bonus:

As Rindou walked he was greeted to an empty house. He finally put off his cool demeanor and played a loud song. He then looked around once more and pressed play. He jumped up and down silently yelling “yes” as he felt the victory inside him. He was so proud of himself and was truly a nerd at heart as you can see. But it was to embarrassing for his brother or you to know. He kept doing a small celebration dance until Ran walked in.

Unfortunately for him he didn’t hear Ran walk in as he was just so excited. Ran, who’d just woken up from a nap, stared at his brother in disgust and discomfort. In the heat of the moment he took out his phone and recorded when he started sadly enough, Rindou had already seen him.

Rindou awkwardly tumbled over his feet to stop the music. And stood in an odd position staring at his brother with embarrassment. They stare at each other for a good minute before ran spoke.

“You like her?” He asked

Rindou nodded

“Then never do that again.”

Rindou nodded again and stared at the ground in shame and embarrassment.

“I was just-“ ran cut him off, “nope, let’s end it here. No more.” Rindou nodded….again.

The two couldn’t look at each other for a week without remembering it.

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

     - (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder. 

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.                                          

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well. 

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

[phoenix-flamed]

Oh, the warmth that had spread across Otto's face couldn't possibly go unnoticed by his companion, and it softened Miles's expression all the more with how endearing it was. Here was this gruff, reserved man, around his age if he were to hazard a guess, who kept a heart of gold hidden away behind walls of deflection and humility. The Cursebreaker wasn't going to mock him for blushing -- the reaction was too sweet, and too authentic for that.

And besides, Miles preferred playful teasing over malicious mockery. The last thing he wanted was to make the one he had eyes for feel insecure or ashamed, when all he really wanted was for Otto to be genuine around him. Well, that and assure the other of his worth, not only as Hideaway's bookkeeper, but also as a person.

When the other's gaze returned to his, he would find nothing but warmth and affection waiting to greet him. The laugh that Miles released was a soft one, full of fondness and, in a rare moment these days, lightheartedness. The troubles of the world, the plight of humanity, the weight of the past, it faded temporarily once again, and all that remained was this moment with this man. Miles's hand started to withdraw from Otto's chest, but he paused, and instead moved it to give a squeeze to the other's shoulder.

"When I was still but a youth, a wise commander explained to me that the strength of an army is not just dependent upon how strong its soldiers are," he began, and in another rare moment, his brow wasn't furrowed. Still, he spoke slowly, as if measuring each word with great care before vocalizing such personal thoughts, or rather a dearly personal memory. "Every person plays a vital role -- be it the soldier on the front lines, or the officer overseeing the supplies and rations back at camp. Much like here in Hideaway, we play to our strengths while trusting that our comrades-in-arms will cover our weaknesses, and in doing so do we forge bonds that inspire us to fight that much harder for one-another."

Now his brow furrowed, and it was Miles's turn to look away -- gaze turning downward and to the side even as he laughed off his embarrassment. When he looked up again, his hand finally withdrew, but not before giving one last gesture of affection: a feather-light brush of leather-covered fingertips against Otto's cheek along the way.

"... Never underestimate your strength, Otto. You may not be a soldier out on the battlefield, but your contributions -- and your very presence here -- are so much more valuable than you know. More valuable than all of the riches across Storm combined, and I shall remind you of it until you can see it within yourself."

Of course, he had to follow it all up with a playful tease: "As for your face and voice... Would that I could charm my way into the heart of such a beautiful man -- but I fear my days of wooing are long behind me. Unless, of course, you are amenable to receiving the favor of an old soldier like myself..." And cue an equally as playful wink.

Almost as soon as he finished talking, Otto wondered if he'd gone on too long. He'd tried to be matter-of-fact and brief in his summary, but maybe it was still boring. Miles had asked, of course, but Otto doubted his own ability to make the financial upkeep of the Hideaway entertaining.

All those thoughts crashed to a halt at the light press of lips on his cheek. Had that been a mistake, or on purpose? Miles wasn't trying to explain it away, instead following it up with praise, of all things. So, maybe it wasn't a mistake. On purpose, then. Somehow. Great bloody Greagor, had his doublet always been this warm?

Otto entertained the idea of turning away from Miles when the latter stepped around to face him, until he felt pinned in place by those pretty eyes. Shit, Miles was surely seeing how red Otto was from ear to ear. The man didn't seem like the gossiping type, but it was Miles' opinion of him that he was worried about anyway, more than anyone else. He'd always envied Cid's confidence, especially in moments like this. Really, one would think Otto didn't have enough intimate experience to have a child and an ex-wife, with how much he felt like a stumbling schoolboy around Miles.

But it was those eyes, and that smile, and all the praise... Otto cleared his throat softly, holding on hard to the closed ledgers so his hands wouldn't do anything reckless. No matter how much he told it to in his head, his blush refused to fade. "Make my damned heart give out, you will, talking like that," Otto muttered. The heart in question was thudding away beneath Miles' curled hand, without enough clothing layers to hide it. More clearly, he continued, meeting Miles' gaze again, "...I'm just one part of it all. This," a small illustrative lift of the ledgers, "is about the only thing I can do. Means my handwriting has to be clear." Another glance aside. "Dunno about my voice though, or my face, that's... don't see how those are anything special."

He didn't want to argue too strongly against what was so kindly said, as it sounded like Miles meant every word. Yet balking from compliments was a reflex developed from his gradually advancing years; with so many attractive folk milling around the Hideaway, comparing himself was only too easy.

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

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Chapter 3

Damian Al Ghul is the most beautiful baby Marianne has ever seen. Not that she’s seen a lot of newborns, but something inside of her knew no one would be as cute as her little brother. He was very tiny and that only encouraged her more than ever to protect him. Her mother thought it adorable, that if not training she was always at his side. Her grandfather thought it useful, like a bodyguard to protect his so expected heir. As a baby, he couldn’t do much yet, but she liked his company. It was rewarding to see him staring at her with those beautiful green eyes when she talked to him about her day. 

They grew up together, so it was only natural that they would train together. Marianne loved it when they would train or fight together, it was another excuse to be around her baby brother. Since birth, he has always been very bright, and very skillful. He’s only seven when he is allowed a solo mission, and she remembers how she begged her mother to allow her to accompany him, just to make sure he’ll be alright. The punishment she received from her grandfather was enough for her to never ask again. But as Damian had proved more than capable to handle every kind of situation thrown his way, she wasn’t so anxious anymore when he would leave for missions. But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry.

Her mother and the guardians became more strict with her training after Damian was born, focusing more on fighting techniques rather than the knowledge of the Kwamis, that part she was already very knowledgeable about. And because of that increase in her abilities, she was allowed to train with her brother, when he was about six. In the beginning, their fight was never fair, with more years of experience, Marianne had an advantage. But as the years passed by, and Damian learned, it became more equal. When they fought together they were formidable, the synchrony and the precision of their movements was something fascinating to behold. You would think that because of their strong bond it would be difficult to actually hurt each other in a fight, but together they were ruthless, always pushing the other. They brought out the better in each other. Marianne could proudly say she taught Damian a lot, especially in the art of diversion and dagger fighting.

Living in the League meant that you could never be too careful, and trust was something it had to be earned. Relations were discouraged because they tended to make you weak. But for the siblings, having each other was their strength. 

Even if both had their own room, it was common to find Damian sneaking to bunk with his sister or Marianne simply crashing at her brother’s bed after a taxing day of lessons. To everyone in the League, they didn’t have contact outside of training, and her grandfather made sure of that. He liked to call her his secret weapon, one that only his most trusted followers knew about. Being a very paranoid person, that trust revolved around 3 people, her mother, Sabine, and Master Fu. And she was sure that her master only knew about her because it was what created their alliance in the first place.

Like her, Damian wasn’t much better in the social department. He didn’t interact with kids his age, and all of his time was dedicated to perfect his skills. She was his one and only friends, but just like her, he wasn’t very good with words, yet she knew he adored her just as much as she did him. She was the heir to the Order of the Guardian and he the heir to the League of Assassins. They had duties to fulfill, expectations to reach, and people to please. It was hard, but at least they had each other.

Until they hadn’t.

She was sixteen and had just come from a long mission, all she wanted was to take a shower and curl into bed. This mission had been more taxing than normal, she was successful but it still took a lot from her. Ignoring her primal needs she made her way to the training grounds of the League, looking for her Master, to give him the mission report. 

“Master” She greeted. Wang Fu had taught her so much, but she could see very clearly that her teacher was flawed. Even after years in this life, he had a very kind heart. He tended to be a very recluse, only interacting with people from the Order or the League if he had to. She was the only exception to this, from the years of training with him, she knew he had a soft spot for her. Most of the time he acted very naively, and that still bothers her thus this day. But where he was kind he was also very strict with her training. That’s why she always pushed herself, to prove to him that she was worthy of her birthright, to be the true wielder of a Miraculous. 

It was already dark, and the League was quiet. Only the ones on duty would be awake, but it was common to find her Master meditating at all hours of the day at the Temple of the Miraculous. The temple was built by the order of her grandfather as a sign of good faith after the alliance between the two organizations was created, she spent most of her childhood there, reading the sacred tomes and connecting with her inner self. 

“How was it?”

“Successful as always. I infiltrated the party without any problem and locating my target was easy. The tricky part was luring him out of the crowd. But I managed. Using the Chinese hairpin I infused the poison in his bloodstream, he was dead in a matter of minutes. The poison won’t leave any possible leads, and I obtained the information requested. I shall pass it to Grandfather at our morning meeting, he requested that you be present as well”

“Any witness?”

“No.”

“Very well… Go ahead and get some sleep. Tomorrow after our meeting you will be having another section of training with Lady Shiva, she was very pleased with your recent development.”

She bowed respectfully and started to make her way to the chambers. She could feel the sleep piercing through her, but she pushed it aside, she needed a bath before even thinking of going to bed. 

She made it to the west wing of the League, where Damian opened the door after only two knocks, still in his sleeping clothes. At that time, she was the only one that would seek him out. He let her in without a word, and she immediately made her way into his bathroom. Being the Heir to the League comes with its perks. His room was bigger than hers and he had a bathroom all to himself. Compared to his room hers was rather simple, with a bed in the middle, a dresser, and a table with a chair. The Arabic aesthetic gave a stylish decoration to the plain room. His was more majestic, with a big bed with the most comfortable comforter she ever laid in and very well decorated. Only the best to the grandfather’s grandson. 

She stripped and laid her weapons carefully on the counter. With empty thoughts, she enjoyed the warmth of the water on her skin, and only after washing her hair twice, she turned it off. Sometime during her shower, her brother had delivered some of her clothes. Because they alternated between their rooms, it was practical to just leave a couple of clothes in each other’s chambers, that way no matter when, they would always have something to wear. She left the bathroom only carrying two of her daggers, even in the comfort of her brother’s bedroom, she could never let her guards down. He was laying on the mattress, half-asleep, just waiting for her. As she neared the bed he lifted the covers to let her in. And as she laid there at his side, feeling the heat of his body near her, with one dagger on the side table and the other under her pillow, she felt at peace. 

The peace was short-lived, however. She couldn’t tell for sure how long she had been asleep, but enough for her brain to be foggy. She bolted awake feeling another presence in the room. In one fluid movement, she grabbed her trusty dagger and went into action. She hit her target in one fluid movement. 

“What’s going on?” Damian was also awake, with a sword in hand, staring wide-eyed at the body laid on the floor.

“Get ready.” And with that they both started to prepare themself, gathering their weapons and changing into more appropriate clothes. In a matter of minutes, they were ready. Before they exit the bedroom, she turns to her brother.

“Take it.” She hands him one of her daggers. It’s from a set, her favorite. It was a birthday present from Damian. Two handmade daggers, one was white and the other was black, it had the Yin and Yang symbols carved in the handle. Representing the balance between creation and destruction. It was perfect for close attacks and throwing. He takes the black one without a fight, by now he understands the seriousness of the situation. With caution, they left the chambers. Now they could hear fighting happening in the background. She knew what she had to do, go to the temple, access information and from then try to create a strategic plan. Damian would come with her, without knowing what was going on, it was safer to continue together. 

They reach the temple without any problem, but there’s when things got problematic. A group of three people advances on them, two men and one woman all wearing black and covering their faces. She immediately goes into attack mode. Diving from the oncoming sword, puncturing the man tight as he attacked her, she analyzes the situation, his wound which does little to stop him is heavily bleeding. Because of her size, she could tell he was underestimating her, so she used that in her advance. She let him come closer, giving him a false sense of security, allowing him to believe her to be inexperienced. His sword makes contact with her left arm, and a red flow of blood makes itself known. Following her plan, when he comes close enough she grabs onto his torso and using his body weight throws him onto the floor over her shoulder. Once he’s down she reaches the dagger strapped onto her thigh and stabs onto his chest. Immediately turning her attention to the other two attackers that went after Damian she throws the dagger at the back of the woman, momentarily distracting her brother’s opponent. Grave mistake. Damian disposes of him quickly after that. After getting back her weapon, they keep their pace. 

Now they could see various members of the Order and the League fighting different opponents. The floor is coated in red, and in the distance, it is possible to see the beginning of some fires. Seeing her home being destroyed broke her heart but there was no time to grieve. On high alert, they arrived at the temple. They meet another group of black figures, not even thinking she immediately engages one of them.

She can’t tell how long that has been going on, she lost sight of Damian and their enemies just kept coming, there is no sign of Master Fu or the Miraculous Box, so she can only assume that he escaped without any problems. The other guardians are by her side, trying to overpower the attackers. In the distance, some explosions begin, shaking the foundation of the temple. Some stones start to fall, and immediately their opponents start to evacuate mid-fight. Based on that it is not difficult to reach a conclusion. Their target was the Order, they obviously planned to explode it to the ground. 

“It’s a trap! We have to leave the Temple, it’s going to crash!” With no hesitation she starts looking for Damian, she needs to find him and get him somewhere safe. It’s pandemonium, people running and screaming orders. Some bleeding and some already dead. It’s practically impossible to see with the smoke that found its way in. 

When she finally finds her brother, it’s almost too late, by now a lot of the foundation it’s destroyed, and they would be lucky if they get out in time. They start running, Damian ahead of her. They were almost at the entrance but something in her, maybe her instincts told her that they would not make it. Using the rest of her energy, she focuses on her inner strength, gathering a bit of magic in the palm of her hand. With one fluid movement, she pushes all she has into her brother.

The impact of her magic sends him flying out of the building, into safety, just in time to miss the pieces of the temple falling down.  

“MARIANNE!”

It's the last thing she hears before she feels the weights falling onto her body. For some minutes she feels everything, the burning pain in every inch of her body and the shallow movements of her chest. 

But for the moment that didn’t matter, she was tired, and she knew she could rest knowing her brother was safe.

“Ahbk ya akhi”

Hope you liked this new chapter, it was a bit longer than usual. I’m not very good at writting about fights, but I hope it wasn’t terrible. Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!

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[blu-joons]

Silent Treatment ~ Min Yoongi

You could feel your daughter’s hopeful eyes staring across at you as soon as you came to the bottom of the stairs, walking straight through the living room and into the kitchen. Instantly, she frowned across at Yoongi, incredibly confused by what was going on.

“Y/N,” Yoongi whispered as you came back through after picking up your phone charger. He called your name once more as you began to walk back up the stairs, but still he was greeted by a cold and harsh silence.

Your daughter wriggled out of Yoongi’s lap in response, folding her arms across her chest to make sure her father was aware of her disapproval. Yoongi had no idea what to say as he looked down at her pout.

“What’s going on?” She quizzed, hearing your footsteps echo as they became more and more distant.

Yoongi waited for a moment as he heard the bedroom door shut before looking down at his little girl. “We had a bit of an argument whilst you were at school today, and now mummy doesn’t want to talk to daddy,” he informed her, “but none of this is your fault.”

Her eyes rolled in response, “you always tell me that I shouldn’t fight other people.”

Yoongi nodded, knowing that he was very much in the wrong. “You shouldn’t fight with people, which is why daddy regrets ever fighting with your mummy.”

His heart broke the moment he saw how sad your daughter was. He never intended for your argument to impact her too, if he was honest, he thought that the two of you would have got past this by now, but then again, he completely underestimated how hurt you were.

“Is she going to stay upstairs forever?” Your daughter’s timid voice questioned, “is she going to live up there until the two of you sort things out and say sorry.”

“I don’t know, she might do,” Yoongi admitted.

Straight away, she let go of a groan, sliding down from the sofa and sitting herself on the floor. She was desperate to have you around, as much as she loved Yoongi, she was very much a mummy’s girl, practically glued most of the time to your side.

“Shall I go and see if I can bring her back down?” Yoongi suggested as your daughter turned her back to him. “If you stay here, we can go and talk like grown-ups, and I’ll say sorry.”

Slowly, she turned back around, scrunching her face up at her father. As she saw how genuine Yoongi was in trying to solve things, her head nodded.

“You have to make sure you say sorry,” she quickly scolded, “it’s what you tell me to do when I’ve upset someone else, so you have to do it as well.”

“I’ll make sure she knows that I’m sorry, don’t worry about that.”

She nodded gently as Yoongi got up from the sofa, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Don’t come down without mummy or I won’t speak to you too, you’ll be alone.”

“She’ll be with me, I promise you.”

He watched your daughter for a few more moments as her attention was quickly drawn to the television before heading up the stairs. He slowly opened the door, noticing you laying down on the bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone.

You could hear his footsteps move throughout the room, refusing to acknowledge his presence. The bed dipped at the bottom as Yoongi settled beside your feet, keeping a small distance between the two of you as he tried to encourage you to look across in his direction.

“I don’t want the two of us to fight anymore,” he frowned, “especially not when it’s hurting Y/D/N too, it’s not fair on her.”

At the mention of your daughter’s name, you finally looked across at him. Yoongi quickly noticed how red your cheeks were, and the two tissues that your hand was gripping onto that you’d used to frequently wipe away your tears.

The tiniest apology came from his lips as he realised exactly what he’d done and the impact of what he’d said had on you. He shuffled carefully up the bed so that he was sat beside your head, taking things slowly as he waited to see how you’d react.

Just like any people, the two of you had your fair share of arguments, but when your daughter came home, they were always forgotten about. However, you weren’t prepared to let things go that afternoon as Yoongi continued to insult you and your work. Whilst you appreciated, he was busy at the studio, you worked just as hard as him constantly caring for your daughter whilst he worked late into the night and often came home after she was already tucked up in bed.

“I know what I said was wrong,” he began, “I wasn’t thinking about what I said, and it definitely wasn’t fair on you. Of course, you work hard, I know first-hand what a handful she can be sometimes, which is why she is incredibly lucky to have a mummy as incredible as you.”

“If you know it’s wrong, why did you say it in the first place? There was no need for it Yoongi.”

His head slowly nodded, he knew he was in the wrong and he knew that he had no chance to even try and justify what he’d said. His hand slowly reached out and held onto your shoulder as he muttered yet another apology down to you.

“Work has been incredibly hard, and I guess I just let the frustrations of that come home with me, and I took that out on you when I shouldn’t have. I can’t say sorry enough, to the both of you, this is my fault, and I accept that you probably hate me right now.”

“I don’t hate you Yoongi, I could never hate you after all this time together,” you sighed, looking up at him.

He smiled softly as he finally met your eyes properly. “I’d hate me if I was spoken to the way you were. I don’t know what I did to get so lucky to have you, and then have an incredible daughter as well, but I promise that I’ll start showing you more how appreciative I am to have you both.”

Your arm slowly reached out, encouraging him to lay beside you. It took a moment for him to move, surprised that you wanted him so close to you. As he laid down, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“I know work is hard for you Yoongi, but the two of us have only ever been supporting of you, I want you to remember that when you come home stressed and annoyed.”

“Of course, you’ve always been supportive of me, and I can’t thank you enough for all of that. I can’t expect you to forgive me straight away, but I really do want you to know how sorry I am. Y/D/N wants you more than anything back with the two of us, and so do I.”

Just at the right moment, you heard light footsteps creep up the stairs as your daughter walked through and stood in the doorway. As soon as she saw you both curled up together, her smile grew, letting go of a sigh of relief.

“Is mummy going to come downstairs now?” She hopefully asked, squealing as Yoongi nodded.

He could only laugh at her wide grin, “she’s going to come back down. And daddy’s going to cook dinner for everyone to apologise for being such an idiot.”

“You were a bit of an idiot,” she chuckled, running into the room and jumping on the bed. “Can I decide what we have for dinner?”

“Of course, you’re my little princess after all.”

---

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