#Unresolved Ending

[vamphorica]

uhm I saw ur posts ab being able to send writing requests in the asks sooo mabye sum matsulight? If ur cool w/ it obvi no pressure!!

i have never written matsulight – i don't think i had even really considered it as a ship until now – but i wrote this on the bus back from work, and it was really fun!

i hope you enjoy ♡

mist

Touta Matsuda/Light Yagami | 1.3k words | ⚣

Rating: General Audiences

Fandoms: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Tags: One Shot, Death Note Second Arc, Romance, Secret Relationship, Minor Conflict, Canon Compliant, Pining, SFW, Unresolved Ending

"Sayu will never marry a cop." Soichiro declared, his arms folded tightly against his chest as his wife hummed in approval behind him. Matsuda's gaze hurriedly met Light's, who sat on the sofa with Misa clinging onto his arm. His composure was relaxed, no visible sense of agitation to this rather tired charade the family would enact under the assumption that Matsuda's interests lay in courting their daughter.

"I haven't even asked her out yet..." Matsuda replied with a breezy laugh that accented his anxiety. Sayu stood close, smiling in a sympathetic reassurance that further contributed to his embarrassment as his fingers clawed at his knees. He wanted to rip himself apart, release something internal as a means to escape this interrogation.

"Well, I think Matsuda is cute!" Sayu chirped. Matsuda felt the heat rise to his cheeks in pure embarrassment, squirming under the weight of an unexpected compliment.

"Really? I think you are too, Sayu!" He wasn't lying – the youngest Yagami was incredibly pretty, the certain elegance to her features reminding Matsuda of her brother's graceful charms. They had both been blessed with a beauty that felt almost alien in comparison to a man like himself, painfully average and self-aware of the fact. Even had he been handsome enough for Sayu, she was far too young for him, and his priority lay elsewhere.

The priority in question spoke up suddenly, "I think it is time I escort Matsuda to the station, he will be late getting home, otherwise." Light disengaged from Misa, his gaze still trained on Matsuda as he stood up. His expression betrayed no emotion that Matsuda could discern, and he too arose from the chair he sat upon, bowing towards Mr and Mrs Yagami. With a prompting nod from Light, the two left the room, shuffling into their shoes before opening the front door to walk out onto the quiet residential street.

It was raining and Light opened up the umbrella he had grabbed on the way out, prepared as always. Matsuda shivered, huddling close to Light as he tilted the umbrella so as to cover their heads. Matsuda hadn't anticipated how dark it had now become, and the streetlights emanated golden haloes leading down the winding road towards the station. Everything had a softness to it, from the houses to the pavement kerb, the rain dampening the sharper edges. It felt like a dream.

"I'm sorry." Matsuda sighed as the two of them began to walk, his shoulders falling as he acknowledged the tension in his back. Light turned his head, raising an eyebrow in curiosity - what for? "I didn't mean to talk to your sister in that way, I guess I just panicked."

"It's best my father assumes it is Sayu that you are pursuing, just as he believes Misa and I are committed to one another. My sister would not genuinely consider you as a potential partner, rest assured." While Light had probably intended the last comment to be reassuring, it still bruised Matsuda's ego. He grabbed his chest, mouthing 'ouch' as he pretended to stumble forward. Light rolled his eyes and continued walking, prompting Matsuda to follow beside him closely. He wished he could link his arm through Light's as he had seen Misa do so many times.

"What about you, Light? Do you see me as a potential partner?" Matsuda admitted he was being a little forward, but their affair had been a rather discreet and tightly maintained thing for some months now. Light had a tendency to schedule his life strictly, with no spontaneity afforded to his daily activities, whether they be for work or pleasure. Matsuda had begged Light to come out drinking with him in the small gay bar that he frequented regularly, but Light seemed almost baffled by the prospect of a date in such a place. He was straight-edge to a fault, and no amount of light teasing from Matsuda convinced Light to break his sobriety in the promise of a good time.

Sighing, Light replied, "Matsuda, you know we can't be public about this. The circumstances we find ourselves in are not forgiving to our situation, and we must be careful to ensure that we don't risk exposing ourselves."

"But you do love me, right?"

Light stopped. The street was approaching a dead end, and the station was to the immediate left. They had little time together before Soichiro would begin growing concerned as to the amount of time Light had spent away from the family home. It had been years since L's interrogation of his son and Misa, but he still maintained some semblance of paranoia that Light was well aware of. It could turn ugly if Light allowed it to fester, and his public display of apathy towards Matsuda would hardly serve to excuse the fact that the two spent more time together than they were expected to.

"Do you need to hear me say it? You know how I feel, I shouldn't have to spell it out for you."

"I want to hear you say it." Matsuda replied, gently, "I need some validation, is that too much to ask for?" Matsuda did wonder if at times he was being ridiculous, if he should simply be grateful for Light's affections, no matter how brief and distant they seemed, and stop expecting so much from him.

The two stood beneath the umbrella, raindrops sliding down the surface. Light placed a hand beneath Matsuda's face, tilting it upwards so he could look into the other's soft brown eyes. He was one of the only men who still believed in Light's innocence, who defended him as others grew suspicious. Perhaps like many others who admired Light, it was this which attracted him, the devotion, but in Matsuda he also found a normality he had been craving. A sense of stability that, however temporary, Light desired to such an extent that he was willing to be honest for once.

"I do love you, Matsuda." Light replied before he leaned in, his lips finding Matsuda's, and he held him in the warmth of the kiss, the rain quiet and the streetlights growing dimmer, as if to afford them privacy in this intimate moment. Matsuda let out a deep exhale through his nose, his eyes closed as he allowed his hands to take hold of Light's hips. There was a humidity to the back of his neck where his collar sat, flustered by this unusual public declaration of love from Light. Matsuda already knew this would be an opportunity he might never have again with Light, and moaned softly against the other's lips in appreciation.

Indeed, Light pulled away, the chill of the evening returning as the two shifted apart, the magic of the night broken as the rain returned to its heavy fall and the streetlights once again became brighter against the blackness of the night. Matsuda trembled as he looked towards the station nearby.

"You best be going now, Matsuda." Light's hand still gripped the umbrella handle without showing any intention of walking alongside Matsuda any further to see him off. Stepping out from beneath the umbrella and into the rain, Matsuda pulled his jacket tight across his chest as he jogged to the building, making his way to the entrance before turning around to see Light had already walked away.

Matsuda knew this was the way it had to be, for Light to return to his perfectly curated world. He would return to Misa, but he and Matsuda would steal glances at one another every few moments when in the office together, careful that Soichiro didn't catch them doing so. Maybe Matsuda could anticipate a hurried embrace in the bathroom stalls if Light felt as though such an effort was possible to execute, but it would realistically be a matter of weeks before Matsuda could expect Light to pay him any meaningful attention.

Drenched, Matsuda tried not to focus on the discomfort of his wet shirt clinging to his back, frozen needles inserted across his skin. Maybe comfort was something to be earned, and he was lucky to even have Light's attention, much less his time. When the Kira case was over, he thought as he stared up at the train timetable, he and Light could be together properly. He had to hold onto that hope at the very least.

[krowfics]

But you’re still a kid that grew

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Plot: Passion was small and Passion was orange. So he couldn't be. (or why there's two blue sides)

Words: 3257

Notes: Logan angst, canon universe, all the other sides are technically unsympathetic ig - especially Patton and Remus, sad and unresolved ending. this fic’s ending overlaps with WTIT.

This might be considered a character study? idk i wrote this in a hyper fixated haze

AO3

~~~

He was small and he was orange.

Dressed head to toe, orange tee shirt, orange cargo shorts, orange socks and orange shoes. 

He was learning about cheetahs. They're the fastest animal in the world, they can reach speeds up to 70 miles per hour! He didn't know what that meant but it sounded fast. 

He stared at the TV screen with rapt attention, meanwhile Thomas played with a stuffed fox from Fox and the Hound and a plastic toy of Peter Pan (from Peter Pan.) glancing up at the screen occasionally. Thomas’ mom had decided to put on an educational show instead of Disney Channel, which Thomas hadn’t minded but he had been ecstatic about.

He really, really wanted to know how fast 70 miles per hour is.

So Thomas twisted around to look at his mom, who was reading a book on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her, and he asked.

"Hmm, as fast as a car." She answered.

That's super fast for an animal, he knew Thomas couldn't run that fast, he didn't even think a dog could run that fast.

"Wow, that's super fast." Thomas said.

"Sure is, Bud." His mom replied with a smile.

He learned more, needed to learn more. He had Thomas switch the channel to documentaries in between his Disney shows, had him ask his mom and dad every question under the sun, squinted at books over Thomas' shoulders as they were both figuring out how to read, even though neither really could yet.

Some adults had reading glasses to make them read better, maybe that would make him read better.

It helped, he thinks, he didn't think anything was wrong with his vision before but now he never wanted to take his glasses off.

He was bigger, he was orange, and he wanted to know everything.

Passion. 

Thomas' mom had called Thomas passionate once, maybe he was Passion.

They went to school, and kindergarten was boring. All they did was color! The first grade was better, but there was still far too much coloring of cartoon characters for Passion’s taste. 

Creativity liked it. So Passion tried not to complain. He didn't really talk to the Others much anyway. 

He liked talking to Creativity, both of them, but they each fell off into their own tangents that got so far from where Passion hand started, that he kind of wished he didn’t talk at all.

He had nothing to do with Morality or Fears or even Creativity, really, the good or the bad, he just wanted to learn and he wanted Thomas to learn.

Lies was annoying because he just wanted to get out of work, and Thomas would listen to him sometimes, which wasn't fair. But sometimes Morality would get in Lies’ way and they'd yell a bunch until Thomas gave into Morality, which was better but it was still annoying. When they yelled he wanted to scream.

It was all frustrating. The Creativities’ imagination was nice until it became completely fake, Lies made Thomas say things that were completely fake, Fears would make up stuff to make Thomas upset which was usually completely fake and Morality would repeat the adults dumb rules which seemed to be completely fake!

It was frustrating, fakeness was frustrating, Passion only cared about real things. Weird plants and animals and bugs and rock formations and spaceships and dinosaurs.

He did not care about Disney princes and dragons and talking animals.

Morality told him he needed to share Thomas. But it wasn't fair, none of it was fair, how could it be fair when what everyone else wanted was completely fake?

He hated the fakeness, it was confusing, it was so hard to tell when Thomas was being lied to. He used to think he could fly because he saw it on TV - not the channels that Passion wanted to watch - and he jumped off his bed and bruised his knee super badly. 

Thomas cried for his knee and Passion cried because it wasn't real. It wasn't! They lied to him!

Passion cried more often than not, he yelled more often then he spoke. Thomas wouldn't listen to him, Thomas used to listen to him, didn't he?

Thomas didn't switch the channel to documentaries anymore and he didn't pay attention to his teacher, even when he really tried, he'd always be more focused on sitting still which made it almost impossible for Passion to pay attention, Thomas usually gave up, which made it even harder.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!

He barely talked to the Others before but now he almost never did. Because now he couldn't stop himself from screaming or crying or getting really angry and breaking something in the imagination which would always make everyone upset with him but they'd never listen anyway!

He hated this. He felt so pathetic. He didn't want to cry all the time, he just wanted to learn. He wanted Thomas to learn.

Thomas got a new teacher when he started second grade, and he was nice.

Mr. Teagan was calm, always. He wore glasses and a tie, which must mean he's smart. He sounded smart, he didn't get mad at Thomas for moving in his seat or fidgeting with his hands, he even encouraged him to fiddle with a squishy rubber toy when Thomas' tapping got too loud for the rest of the class.

He never got frustrated when Thomas asked questions, he'd teach him how to understand the more complex math equations the rest of the class was learning. Passion really liked math and Thomas really liked math.

Thomas wasn't really listening to Passion but he was listening to his teacher. Maybe if Passion was calmer, they would listen to him.

They didn't. They ignored him as always, Bad Creativity called him a crybaby and that set Morality off, which Passion would have appreciated had Morality not also been ignoring him.

"Why'd you even bother to show up?" Good Creativity said as Morality calmed down and Bad Creativity continued to giggle.

"Be nice." Morality said plaintively.

"No, no, I mean, you never come here or talk to us, what do you want?" he didn't sound upset, just confused, but it didn't make the hurt go away because Passion was doing what he wanted already and they weren't listening.

"To talk about imaginary numbers." He said carefully, because imaginary numbers were so cool, even though he didn't really understand anything about them at all, but they sounded cool. They were fake but couldn't be frustrating-fake, because they were still math and math made them real!

"Ugh, Thomas will learn math in school." Good creativity whined.

Passion glanced to Morality, who only nodded, "Thomas is gonna watch Beauty and the Beast, he can't do math right now."

He's watching that again? Could it not be Lion King or Jungle Book, one that made him actually want to learn about animals?

"That's not fair." Passion said.

"He does plenty of math in school." Good Creativity said.

"But I want him to do it now!"

"We can't always get what we want." Morality said.

"Life is fair, you know." Lies said sarcastically from his place on the couch, he was hardly paying attention to the situation.

Morality liked Mr. Teagan, and Passion was being calm like Mr. Teagan, why wasn't it working? What was he doing wrong?

Fears nodded, looking deeply uncomfortable with the tenseness in the room, "You don't have to get upset over math."

"It's not fair." He yelled, and his voice cracked and his vision was blurry even though he was wearing his glasses.

Bad Creativity made a sharp laughing noise, “Crybaby!" he said, pointing, and he was completely right.

"You aren't being very nice." Morality said, and when Passion looked he saw that Morality was not looking at Bad Creativity, he was looking right at Passion.

He knew what that meant, Morality also said that Lies and Bad Creativity weren't very nice and then those 'weren't very nice's turned into 'not nice at all's. And Morality made sure that Thomas almost never listened to Sides who were not nice at all.

What if Thomas never listened to him again?

Passion choked on a sob. He needed to apologize, he needed to, but he couldn't get a word out with Morality staring him down like Thomas' mom or dad did when he got in trouble, Good Creativity stood right behind him, looking smug.

Passion turned around and ran out the room, a nasally laugh came from behind him, Bad Creativity, he assumed.

He hid his room and he cried. It felt like hours, or minutes, or days. He cried until his eyes were sore and his throat was scratchy and his nose was stuffed.

Something was wrong with him.

There had to be a reason no one listened to him, there had to be a reason no one liked him.

He stayed away after that, he couldn't risk it. He needed to stay calm like Mr. Teagan but he couldn't when no one was listening anyway. He’d get too frustrated, too overwhelmed. A bitter part of him thought it’d be better to not feel at all, if the bad emotions were so unavoidable and were making him ruin everything. 

They wouldn't listen to him, no matter what he did, would they? They've already decided he was too passionate to deal with.

He helped Thomas with homework when he needed, Morality made Thomas do his homework because it was Wrong not to, but he didn't really stick around for the process. So when Thomas would get stuck, Passion would show up to help. 

He didn't make Thomas learn outside of school though, he stopped begging for him to change the channel to a documentary when Morality wanted to watch a cartoon, he bit his tongue every single time he played pretend with Good Creativity.

Passion was able to learn still, he didn’t think any of the others could completely stop him if they tried. It was much harder, but he could consume information that Thomas learned subconsciously. It wasn't nearly as good as Thomas learning outright, but it was better than nothing and Passion would take all he could get.

Thomas' third grade teacher was not nearly as patient as Mr. Teagan, which means that Thomas didn't like her which means he had a much harder time paying attention. 

Morality stayed with him a lot, making him pay attention as it was Wrong not to pay attention to adults. He made him do his homework and sat there through his frustration so he'd actually finish as it was wrong not to hand it in finished the next day, he made Thomas do everything he was told, even as Lies hissed and spat in the Mindscape to get his way, Morality didn't even care that he was making Thomas miserable. Maybe he didn’t notice.

He wouldn't listen to what Passion had to say about it though.

Passion was a crybaby, Passion was too emotional, Passion wasn't very nice.

Passion was small and Passion was orange.

So he couldn't be.

They had learned basic color theory long ago. Good Creativity loved it because it made everything pretty and hated it because it was rules and neither creativity ever wanted to put rules on art, other than the obvious Morality given ones. The ones that said it wasn't nice at all to draw Thomas killing his brother, something Good Creativity agreed with and bad creativity did not.

Color theory said that blue was the opposite of orange.

Maybe that's why Morality didn't like him. Morality was blue.

Blue comes in different shades.

One day, as Thomas was doing his homework, he felt a familiar pull. A feeling he would often ignore because Morality seemed to always be there. 

Be calm

He appeared, almost void of color, shirt as black as his glasses, plain blue jeans, black shoes. 

A tie, just like Thomas' second grade teacher always wore, except dark blue.

He was not small and he was not orange.

"Hello?" Thomas said, just behind him was Morality, who was staring.

Both looked stressed, hair messed up from running their hands through it and Thomas's eyes were rimmed red, almost crying from frustration.

Stay calm.

"What seems to be the problem Thomas?"

"Who..?" Thomas asked tiredly, glancing to Morality.

"I'm not sure, kiddo. Are you new?"

The only thing differentiating the sides visually were their clothes and their colors.

Without orange, Morality didn't recognize him.

Good.

"I am Thomas' Logic."

"Oh, goodness!" Morality smiled brightly, when was the last time he smiled at him like that? "It's been so long since we've gotten a new side! I’m Morality, It's nice to meet you."

Stay calm.

"You as well, now what is the issue?"

Thomas gestured to the paper on his desk and Logic learned over his shoulder to see the equation. He thought Thomas liked math?

It was division, a bit on the complicated side but not terribly so. 

"Thomas, do you understand that division is just the opposite of multiplication?"

"Mrs. Drache keeps saying so, but…"

So he didn't understand.

"All that means is you can reverse this." He summoned up a pen and paper and wrote the equation down where Thomas could see.

And the he wrote the same numbers directly under it but swapped the division sign for an equal sign and the original equals sign for multiplication.

"Are you more confident in your times tables, Thomas?" he asked.

Thomas nodded, paused, and then nodded again. He looked tired. "Yeah um, I did them quicker than most of the class last week. I only got 3 wrong."

"Good." Logic said, "what times 7 is 49?"

Thomas stared for a moment, "5 times 7 is 35."

"Yes."

"and 6 times 7 is 42."

"it is."

Thomas pressed his lips together and then wrote 7 down on his homework.

Thomas listened to him. He actually listened to him and he learned.

Stay calm.

"Good job, Thomas."

Thomas beamed and everything was worth it.

Morality made a high pitch noise, startling Logic, he forgot he was there.

But there Morality was, clapping and smiling, smiling at Thomas and Logic.

"I knew you could do it, kiddo!" 

Thomas smiled and returned to his homework, both sides there for help and encouragement.

Morality stopped showing up so much for homework, he let Logic help him pay attention in class, he started letting Thomas get away with things that made him happy. At some point academics were completely left up to Logic.

Morality trusted Logic. Morality liked Logic.

Stay calm.

Logic said nothing as Thomas changed career paths, Morality wanted him to be happy and Creativity wanted him to perform. Logic could handle his amount of attention diminishing, Thomas’ happiness was more important. 

Stay calm.

He helped Thomas through each moral conundrum and anxiety attack, even if he had to wade through the others' arguments to do so. It’d be easier if they didn’t have to work through their emotions before they actually listened to him but, regardless, they always did eventually.

Stay calm.

He had made himself heard, he didn't need emotions anymore, he never needed them in the first place. He needed Thomas to be healthy and happy, even if that meant Logic didn't always get his way. He was fine.

Stay calm.

Deceit and Dark Creativity's increased presence was annoying but manageable. Thomas hadn't remembered either, which made sense. 

Deceit had kept himself hidden from Thomas before his scales started appearing - a younger Thomas taking the lying snake in the garden of Eden a bit too seriously, Logic suspects - and Logic was fairly certain that Thomas had never even met Remus as a child.

Thomas was barely interested in what Logic had to say as is, splitting his attention between three other sides who just boiled down to differing emotions. Janus and Remus complicated things, they kept getting in the way.

All sides deserved to be listened to, a part of Logic is sure of it, but with all of them demanded it only for themselves, he had to fight to.

Morality at least didn't like them fighting, Creativity would always listen to Morality and thus stayed in good graces, and Anxiety held enough sympathy from Patton that he was always able to be listened to too.

No one really liked Logic, he could tell. They might claim they like Logan, they probably don't even think they're lying about it. But they wouldn't like him if he couldn't stay calm.

Stay calm.

He was trying to stay calm.

He was finally being listened to, even if it seemed to be less and less each day, he was letting Thomas take breaks, he was letting Thomas stay happy even as the anxiety of cleaning was getting to him.

Why did Remus have to taunt him today of all days? The day when Thomas actually had some urge to make a list of tasks, to finally clean his living space so he could be more productive. 

Stay calm.

Thomas was busy dancing, quite literally dancing always the intrusive thoughts.

Logic was calm, he would stay calm.

He breathed a calculated breath and turned to Remus, who was giggling in that obnoxious way he does. Even after all these years, even as they got older, that laugh never really did change.

Logic was speaking calmly, he was being nice, he was barely showing any frustration even as Remus made it clear he was not listening.

Thomas listened to him though, he had listened today, and the only times he stopped today was when Remus got in the way.

Stay. Calm.

He needed to get through to Remus. He needed to. He needed to be listened to, he needed Thomas to listen. He barely listened as is, he can't let it get as bad as it was back then, back when no one listened no matter what. 

"Remus."

he wasn't listening. Thomas wouldn't listen because Remus wouldn't listen. Logic needed him to listen.

Remus summoned a book literally titled, 'Ignoring Dummies for Dummies' 

"Remus."

The haunting taunt of 'crybaby' rang in his ears. It was extremely frustrating, he couldn't get frustrated - he had to stay calm.

Logic could barely breathe.

Remus wouldn't listen.

Stay calm

Stay calm

STAY CALM

"Stop ignoring me!"

That wasn't very calm.

Remus was talking, smug as Logan had ever seen him and not even remotely surprised, but the words barely registered. 

And then Remus was gone, and Thomas was on the phone with Nico.

Was that on purpose? Did… Did Remus know?

Stay calm.

He was not orange.

He wasn't.

Everything worked out, except it didn't because Thomas had abandoned his schedule and his apartment didn't get cleaned, but that was okay. It had to be okay. 

Thomas barely seemed to listened to Logic anymore anyway, he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Thomas listened when it was absolutely necessary and that was enough. It had to be. Logic had to stay calm. He had to hold together each piece of him that shattered and broke off when he was ignored, he couldn't afford to be pushed to emotions by Remus, or anyone, especially not when Thomas is there.

Stay calm.

He was not a crybaby.

Stay calm.

He was not Passion.

Stay calm.

He was not orange.

He wished there was nothing of Passion left, nothing left to feel anything, but as he curled up in his room to hide, he felt small.

~~~

tags~ @flowercrownsandtrauma

[browneyesandhair]

I'm Unglued Thanks to You by Browneyesandhair

Summary:

This wasn’t fair. She loved him. He clearly felt strongly for her. And, yet … Colin’s voice was in the back of her mind. It wasn’t him as he was in front of her. It was him after their failed scheme had been revealed. His words on Lady Whistledown ran through her mind. As she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t do this. “No.” The word was ripped from her throat. It sat between them.

Notes:

Okay - this is basically unfinished. But the front part of the scene was in my head. This is what I think season 3 part 2 has to start with (but mostly wishful thinking - because I want this conversation before an engagement - even if I don't want to write all the awful bits).

Friendly reminder that I have no chill. I watched season 3 part 1 and this is what I want for season 3 part 2 to start with (it doesn't have to be exactly this, but I would like one word to be there).

[angstflavoured]

i think too many people misinterpret what i mean when i say i ship billford. like no, i do not want them to be together happily eventually. i dont even want them to be together. the ship so goddamn toxic that there is only misery and old broken remnants of feelings and longing for something that couldve been but never will be. they will never be happy in each others lives and i want to keep it that way. dont get it twisted thinking im just shipping cute little yaoi and i want them to kiss in canon. no. this is something much deeper and intimate and painful. this aint my first Toxic Old Man Yaoi rodeo and it wont be my last. there is no happiness here.

[tiddygame]

Simon started his sleeve well before he became Ghost.

It started when Joseph was about 3 1/2 and Simon got a nasty scar on his arm that made the poor kid upset every time he saw it. Joseph knew that it didn’t still hurt, but for him it was a reminder that is uncle was always in danger. It scared the kid to think about what caused it, even though Simon assured him that he was okay.

So after a brief discussion with Beth and Tommy, he figured he’d get a tattoo to cover it up. A sleeve would be expensive, but if it meant Joseph didn’t cry every time he saw the scar on his uncle's arm, it would be worth it.

It took some looking around for an artist that was willing to tattoo scar tissue and one that he trusted, but it wasn’t long before he was scheduling a consult.

Then he realized he had no fucking idea what he wanted to get tattooed.

He felt like getting a flaming skull or half naked lady permanently etched into his skin would defeat the purpose and he most certainly was not going to get something in a language he didn’t speak.

His mom jokingly suggested that he could get a floral sleeve and cover his arm in flowers.

And, well, it was close enough to a dare that he couldn’t turn it down so a few weeks later, he’s got his appointment set up to turn his arm into a garden.

He has quite a few types of flowers in there (some that his mom loves, some that Beth and Tommy had at their wedding, etc. etc.) with vines and leaves to fill in the gaps

The appointments are quite far apart with his deployment, Simon didn’t want to deal with a healing tattoo in the field. They started at the scar, covering it up and then expanding from there.

Joseph loves the flowers.

He was always so excited when Simon let him fill them in like his arm was a coloring book, even if he still struggled to stay in the lines.

He used to cry every time Simon left and it would break his heart, but now Joseph demanded that his uncle return as fast as he could so he could go back to coloring his arm and talking about sharks.

Joseph loved the flowers.

It took a while for him to go back.

There was no reason to, not anymore. He had more scars, but there wasn’t anyone he had to hide them from.

The tattoo was left unfinished for a long time, only part of his forearm was done.

Ghost didn’t care. He wore long sleeves even in weather warm enough to cause heatstroke; he couldn’t look at it.

When he did, he didn’t see an unfinished tattoo, he saw his nephew. Saw him looking up at his uncle with big brown eyes, begging Simon to carry him. Saw him sleeping under the Christmas tree.

Eventually he returned. He requested a slight change to the design and showed the artist a photo of four headstones and the bouquets that accompanied them

(There was a fifth, partially out of frame and cut off, vase empty)

The artist nodded and got to work.

In the new sketch, a few new flowers were added, but the first thing Ghost noticed were the four little garter snakes that had been weaved through the petals.

Ghost nodded and that was that.

Every now and then a rookie would see it and start to laugh, but when they remembered the reputation of the man they were laughing at, it was quickly cut off with hasty (and futile) apologies. (They were still going to end up running laps until they vomited up their lungs.)

It was rare that he was exposed enough for people to see the tattoo and from a distance, it just looked like a simple sleeve. It wasn’t long before his little garden became a lesser known rumor that followed him around and joined the other whispers.

Ghost didn’t care. He didn’t get the tattoo for himself or any prying eyes. From the moment he booked the consultation to leaving the parlor with his sleeve complete, it was all for Joseph.

The rookies could spread whatever rumors they want, his nephew would have loved it and that’s all he wanted.

The first time Soap got a proper look, he just stared at it for a while before going off on a story about when he was little and picked up a snake thinking it was a stick.

From anyone else, it would have felt like that were trying to change the subject so they didn’t have to acknowledge that The Ghost had such a “feminine” tattoo.

From Soap, it was comforting in an odd way. It was obvious that Soap wanted a better look at it, but he never pushed Ghost. Just like the mask, Soap was patient.

Later down the line, it would morph into quiet nights with Johnny tracing the lines and trying to identify each type of flower. He’d look to Simon for any clues but would complain that Simon always looked too love-struck for his facial expression to give any hints on if he was getting close.

Simon didn’t deny these claims but still refused to offer any help.

And even longer after that, Johnny would shakily color in the petals as he tries to regain his fine motor skills.

The markers would often slip out his hands and the shakiness meant he couldn’t stay within the lines, but the fact that he was there at a all, debating which pink to use on the peonies and getting frustrated with himself when he couldn’t get the cap back on, was enough of a miracle that Simon could barely keep himself together as his sleeve regained its color for the first time in years.

When Johnny was done, Simon hugged him with one arm, holding the tatted one up and away so that the new ink wouldn’t smudge.

Eventually, Simon would tell the story of why he got the tattoo, even if Johnny already had a pretty good guess based on the wistful look Simon had when talking about it. He would tell him which ones his mom loved, which ones had been at Beth and Tommy’s wedding, and which ones were just the artist adding some to make it more cohesive.

But for now, they would hold onto each other tightly, neither of them willing to separate. Maybe for some, crying over a box of sharpies wasn’t a happy ending, but Simon didn’t care. He had Johnny in his arms and that was all he could ask for.

[psqqa]

yes, yes i know edgeworth’s big wet eyes and loser boy personality have captivated us all, but listen. listen.

phoenix wright

phoenix “genuinely unable to reconcile the girl on the stand with the girl he dated for eight months, a cognitive dissonance so profound it’s ultimately explained by them being literally two different people, but which he first sits with for five years and does not talk about at any point to anyone” wright

phoenix “don’t mention that name to me. i don’t want to talk about it. i don’t want to think about it. i am just going to keep myself in this state of perpetual crisis mode focus on other people’s problems until eventually i die and get to hang out with mia on the astral plane and never have to deal with any of these emotions ever again” wright

phoenix “overnight loses his career and reputation and sense of identity while gaining an adopted, probably pretty traumatized eight-year-old daughter, and rather than leaning on his friends for help, or getting therapy, or taking any time to process any of this, he *checks notes* spends seven years dedicating all his free time and energy to investigating the weird fucking circumstances around it and maintains a friendship with the guy he suspects was behind it all” wright

phoenix "runs across a burning bridge and falls through it, half a day after the game establishes that he is terrified of heights, because his friend is on the other side of that bridge" wright

phoenix “i sure felt surprised. maybe i had my poker face on” wright

phoenix “looking back on it that was actually a pretty dark period in my life” wright

phoenix “don’t ask me how i got started. i don’t remember” wright

phoenix “only you stood still, your eyes calmly watching” wright

phoenix “sometimes, life just sucks” wright

just

phoenix wright

crunchiest man in the world

and all i wanna do is chew and chew and chew on him

[aventurineswife]

aventurine x reader, but they both worked in the IPC together, until Reader faked their death to escape it. Aventurine kinda loses himself for a bit, but is sent on another planetary mission (idk what ipc assignments are called 😔) he notices one of the citizens looks a bit too much like a previous friend

Reader realizes Aventurine found them, and feeling too scared to face him after never saying goodbye, warning or anything, they run off to a secluded area aven follows them to, and boom we get angsty argument, bittersweet love confession, and happy or sad ending up to u!!

i hope this made sense

The Gamble of Lost Hearts | Part 1

Summary: After faking your death to escape the IPC and live a quiet life, You encounters Aventurine years later on a remote planet. Desperate to avoid facing him after leaving without a word, You run, but Aventurine tracks you down to demand answers.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, reunion, faked death, confrontation, bittersweet, passionate kiss, unresolved feelings, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Warnings: Intense emotions, mention of grief and faked death, brief argument, bittersweet themes, kissing.

A/N: Thank for the request, Anon! Of course it made sense and I hope you like it!! I decided to go for a happy ending but lmk if you want a sad ending too 😇🤭

(Part 2)

The tall silhouette of the IPC headquarters still felt like a ghostly shadow looming over you, even on this remote planet. You'd spent years running from it, from him, leaving behind everything you knew to escape the endless cycles of high-stakes deals and veiled dangers. Faking your death was your only way out. A drastic choice, but one that had kept you free.

For the most part, it had worked. You’d blended into a quiet, new life here, far from the frenetic energy and luxurious intrigue of IPC. But today was different. A mission had arrived from IPC. You hadn’t realized who would be leading it—hadn’t dared to imagine he would come to this far-flung place.

And yet, here you were, ducking down behind market stalls, holding your breath every time he brushed past. His sandy-blond hair, elegant stance, and that gambler’s grin that still haunted your memories—it was all here. And with him came a flood of feelings you'd kept buried for years.

Somewhere along the winding paths of this new city, you’d slipped. He'd caught sight of you, and that glimmer in his eyes told you he knew.

You didn’t waste time running. You veered down alleyways, taking shortcuts and dodging through side streets, ignoring the heart pounding in your chest. The cliffside path outside the city led to a hidden grove where you’d often retreat to watch the waves crash far below. Maybe there, he would lose your trail.

But there was no outrunning someone like him.

“Quite the bold tactic—faking your own death,” His smooth voice sounded just as you remembered, laced with that same easy charm but edged with something new—something raw. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

You took a breath before facing him, his piercing gaze pinning you down as soon as you met his eyes. He stood mere steps away, looking as striking as ever, the faint roulette motif on his overcoat catching the last of the setting sun.

“Aventurine, I…” The words failed you. How could you explain years of silence? Of leaving him to mourn?

“I grieved you, you know.” His voice was soft, nearly breaking. “I searched, hoping it was all some misstep. Until the day I accepted you were…gone.”

The ache in his words stung worse than you’d anticipated. “I didn’t have a choice...” you whispered, but your words sounded feeble, empty even to yourself.

“No choice?” Aventurine scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “We were supposed to be partners, weren’t we? You could have trusted me.” He took a step forward, anger blazing in his eyes. “But instead, you turned me into a fool. For years, I mourned a ghost while you built this quiet little life on the fringes.”

“You don’t understand,” you argued, feeling that familiar pang in your chest. “It wasn’t just about leaving IPC. I couldn’t… If I stayed, I would’ve lost myself. That place…it consumed everything.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Aventurine’s voice softened, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture that held the weight of all the things left unsaid between you. “Do you think I didn’t want to leave with you?”

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by his words. The idea of Aventurine—the gambler, the thrill-seeker—longing to escape had never crossed your mind. But here he was, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness that mirrored your own.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the sincerity in your voice mixing with the regret that had gnawed at you all these years. “But I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

“You didn’t give me the choice.” he whispered, voice barely above a murmur. His eyes searched yours, desperate to find a reason, a justification that could somehow absolve the pain he’d carried all this time. And then, with a hint of frustration, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, full of the emotions he’d held back, the years he’d spent believing you were lost.

The kiss stole the words from your mouth, every excuse, every apology dissolving in the intensity of that single, electric moment.

When he pulled back, his hand still lingered at the side of your face, thumb tracing the faint line of your jaw as he gazed at you with a newfound resolve. “If you run again, I’m coming with you.” he murmured, his voice steadier now.

You met his gaze, realizing he meant it. There would be no more running, no more hiding. Aventurine wouldn’t let you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised softly, the weight of your words sinking between you both. “Not without you.”

A flicker of a smile returned to his lips, tempered by the hurt that had yet to fully heal but brightened by the glimmer of hope that you could finally face whatever came next—together.

[alienssstufff]

mini etho-related doodles for the final chapter of You Could've Applied Online that dropped today (good ending: REAL, FREE at shade-e-es glass factory emporium) (+unreal boatboys final goodbye sequence)... gonna miss it ;w;

this one courtesy quote by chloe

and unrelated DO2 etho doodle frum yesterday (idk what to do with this atm)

[brucie-baby]

unnecessarily sad over the inherent tragedy of comic book characters like batman. he loves his city and he wants everybody to be safe and he hopes that one day gotham will no longer need batman but that will never happen because the story can't end. his city will never get its forever happy ending because that doesn't sell comics. quite literally doomed by the narrative because the story must go on. crazy. sucks for that guy.

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know I kind of feel like when Megatron killed Tarn and said 'I want you to spend your final moments thinking of this: that everything you've done has been for nothing' he was kind of self-projecting onto Tarn? Mainly because at Megatron's statue, M and T had a conversation where Tarn explicitly asked if all the Decepticons in service to Megatron died for nothing, if HE did everything he did for nothing. (And I think M even gave an answer along the lines of 'idk I think we basically did'). And then after Megatron killed the DJD and Rodimus teleported in to rescue him, there was that silent moment where Megatron just stared at Rodimus not moving at all before he finally took his hand at the last moment.

It honestly feels to me like for a while, Megatron fully intended to murder-suicide himself. Murder the DJD, his monsters and his creation, and then take himself out alongside them, because he is also a monster. Because he also feels that everything he's ever done has been for nothing.

Goddamn it's no wonder I liked that scene so much LMAO, as someone who thinks villain Megatron > Autobot Megatron, literally one of his key traits is that Megatron basically took his pain/trauma/worldview and used it to lash out at the universe and try to subjugate it to his vision. So the fact that he took his own pain and brutally murdered the DJD while telling them the very same thing that puts him through so much agony is so very deliciously ironic. And a return, however brief, to the Megatron characterization that I know and love.

[soultiio]

guilt

[clowns0cks]

no you don't get it I DON'T want thoschei to go along and make peace and live happily ever after. I need them in a constant state of pining and neverending fucked up dynamics hope this helps !

[bear-bear-bear-bear-bear]

jaheira please im trying to have a serious conversation

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shattered Heart Part II 

Summary: 

Y/N and Azriel continue to struggle with their unspoken love and the heartbreak it brings. As Azriel distances himself further, Y/N makes a decision that could change everything. Will they ever find their way back to each other, or are they destined to remain broken and alone?

I wrote this for @vanserrasimp who requested a part 2.

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: Intense heartbreak, emotional distress

Y/N:

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N felt the weight of Azriel's absence more acutely with each passing moment. She had hoped that time would dull the pain, but instead, it sharpened it, making every interaction, every shared space in the House of Wind a reminder of what she had lost—or rather, what she had never truly had.

She threw herself into training, hoping the physical exertion would exhaust her enough to numb her emotions. But even in the heat of battle practice, her mind wandered to Azriel. She saw him everywhere—in the shadows that danced at the edge of her vision, in the quiet moments when she thought she was alone, in the lingering silence that filled the spaces where his laughter used to be.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Y/N found herself alone in the training room. She collapsed onto the floor, her body aching and her mind a whirlwind of turmoil. She stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"Why can't I let him go?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "Why can't I move on?"

The room remained silent, offering no answers. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She thought about Azriel—about the way he had stood outside her room that night, about the pain in his eyes, about the words that had remained unspoken between them.

She knew she couldn't continue like this. The pain was consuming her, eating away at her spirit. She needed to make a decision, to find a way to move forward. She couldn't keep living in this limbo, caught between hope and despair.

With a heavy heart, she made her way to her room. She sat at her desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. Her hand trembled as she began to write, pouring her heart and soul into the letter.

Azriel,

I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I need to say it, to put it into words so that I can finally let go. I have loved you for so long, longer than I can even remember. I thought that maybe, one day, you might see me the way I see you. But I was wrong.

Watching you with Elain, seeing the way you look at her—it's tearing me apart. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay, that I'm strong enough to handle it. The truth is, I'm not. I'm breaking, Azriel, and I don't know how to fix it.

I need to move on, to find a way to heal. And I can't do that if I'm here, surrounded by memories of you. So, I've decided to leave Velaris. I don't know where I'll go, but I need to find a place where I can rebuild my heart, piece by piece.

I wish you all the happiness in the world, Azriel. You deserve it, even if it's not with me. Please, don't come after me. This is something I need to do for myself.

Goodbye, Azriel. I will always love you, but I need to let you go.

Y/N

She sealed the letter with trembling hands, placing it on her bed. She packed a small bag with essentials, her heart heavy with each item she added. She took one last look around her room, her sanctuary, and then she left, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through her soul.

As she walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, she felt a sense of freedom mixed with a profound sadness. She was leaving behind everything she had ever known, but she knew it was the only way to heal.

Azriel:

Azriel stood in the training room, his fists clenched at his sides. He had pushed himself harder than ever before, trying to drown out the thoughts that haunted him. But no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't escape the pain in his heart.

He thought about Y/N constantly—about her laughter, her strength, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. He missed her more than he could bear, but the fear of hurting her kept him from reaching out.

Cassian's words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what he had lost. "You don't have to be perfect to love someone, Az. And Y/N doesn’t need perfect. She needs you." But he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't enough, that he would only bring her pain.

He walked to Y/N's room, his heart heavy with regret. He had stood outside her door so many times, wanting to knock, wanting to hold her and tell her everything. But he had always walked away, too afraid to face his feelings.

Tonight, he couldn't stay away. He needed to see her, to tell her how he felt, even if it was too late. He reached for the door, his hand trembling as he knocked softly.

There was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time, but the room remained silent. Panic began to set in as he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

The room was empty, the bed neatly made. His eyes landed on the letter, and his heart stopped. He picked it up with shaking hands, his eyes scanning the words.

Each sentence was a knife to his heart. He read her words, feeling the depth of her pain, the love she had carried for so long. And as he reached the end, a sob tore from his throat.

She was gone. He had pushed her away, and now she was gone.

He sank to his knees, clutching the letter to his chest. The shadows around him pulsed with his anguish, but they offered no comfort. He had lost her, and it was his own fault.

I need to find her. The thought was a lifeline, a desperate hope that he clung to. He couldn't let her go, not without a fight.

He stood, his resolve hardening. He would find her, no matter where she had gone. He would make things right, even if it took him the rest of his life.

With a final glance around the empty room, he turned and left, the letter still clutched in his hand. He didn't know where to start, but he knew he couldn't give up. Not now, not ever.

Y/N:

Y/N stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind whipping through her hair as she looked out over the sea. She had traveled for days, seeking solace in the quiet places far from Velaris. But no matter where she went, the pain followed her, a constant shadow.

She had thought that leaving would help her heal, but it had only made the ache more acute. She missed Azriel with every fiber of her being, missed the way his presence had brought her comfort, even in the darkest times.

She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She had tried to be strong, tried to move on, but the love she felt for him was a part of her, woven into her very soul.

As she stood there, she heard a voice behind her, soft and filled with pain. "Y/N."

She turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Azriel standing there, his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and hope.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice breaking.

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "I couldn't let you go. I can't lose you, Y/N. Not like this."

Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head. "You don't understand, Azriel. I've loved you for so long, and it's killing me. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay."

He reached for her, his hand trembling as he cupped her cheek. "I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. But I can't lose you. I love you. I've always loved you."

Her heart ached at his words, the truth she had longed to hear. But the pain was still there, a deep wound that wouldn't heal. "Azriel, it's too late. I'm broken, and I don't know how to fix it."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Then we'll fix it together. Please, Y/N. Don't leave me. I need you. We need each other."

She clung to him, her sobs shaking her body. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that they could find a way to heal. But the pain was still there, a constant reminder of the love that had nearly destroyed her.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult. But for the first time, they had hope—hope that they could find a way to heal, to rebuild the shattered pieces of their hearts.

And as the sun set over the sea, casting a golden glow over the world, they took the first step on that journey, together.

[todorokis-girl]

Getting back with your ex? - Suna Rintarou (pt 1)

(part 2) After a painful breakup and years apart, Y/N and Suna Rintarou are forced to work together again in the world of professional volleyball. When an unexpected injury and a work trip to Okinawa bring them closer, unresolved feelings and old wounds resurface. Amidst professional obligations and personal turmoil, they must navigate their complicated past and uncertain future. Can they overcome their history and find their way back to each other, or will the lingering pain keep them apart forever?

masterlist

I shake slightly as I walk into the Olimpic team training area, bag and binder in hand. The imposing structure of the stadium looms above me, filled with the echoes of bouncing volleyballs and distant shouts. The Japan media agency was recently activated to manage the promotions and media activities for the team, and I was assigned as their specific manager. Lucky me. Kuroo deserved to be beheaded, it was his job to promote them anyway, he could do it by himself! Ok, that would be unrealistic, and I’m just pissed. Kuroo did NOT deserve to be beheaded.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves, but I only shake more the deeper I get into the stadium. Anyone would be thrilled to work with them—actually, everyone was thrilled. I think I was the only one not foaming at the mouth to manage them; yet I think that was my downfall. Damn you, indifference. In reality, I wasn’t indifferent. In any other circumstance, I’d foam at the mouth like everyone else for the job. Yet, Suna Rintaro was a member of this team. Of course he is. I would’ve given my left arm for it to have been Osamu instead.

Suna and I dated in high school. If anything was known about me in those days, it was that I drooled for my boyfriend. As the manager for the Inarizaki team, I most definitely gave him preferential treatment, and Osamu loved to bitch about it. I missed those days.

I was head over heels, down on my knees for this man. And then he became a professional volleyball player. To quote him directly, “I don’t have the time for you.” Yet weeks later, I started seeing magazine articles of him out with different models. No time, my ass. Just say you don’t love me and move on.

I took the deepest breath I could muster and walked into the court area, laser-focused on making it to the coach first. The court was a whirlwind of activity, players diving, spiking, and shouting encouragements. My heart pounded louder with each step. I needed to ask for the remaining time from practice to talk and get to know the players as much as I could. When the coach finally spotted me, he looked me up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, then stared into my soul. Intimidating man. I smiled and extended my hand to him once I was close enough.

“Hello, sir, I’m L/N Y/N. I’m the team's new media manager, Kuroo Tetsuro had called to notify ahead of time. I was told I could have the last hour of practice to talk to the team and get to know them, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through my façade of calm, and gave a deep sigh. “Yes.”

I smiled and stood back, giving him the space to address the team when he thought it prudent. “Everyone, head to the showers and meet this young lady in the conference room in 10.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” rang around the court, followed by the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. The players began to disperse, casting curious glances my way. Before anyone could properly look at me, I bowed to the coach and attempted to make a run to the conference room after being given directions.

“Y/N.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening as I recognized the voice of Suna.

“Who?”

“Y/N, c’mon.”

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know this... Y/N, was it?”

“I can see it’s you. I know it’s you. I’d recognize your back anywhere.”

I spun around immediately, ready to chew him out for what he was insinuating, but I was met by his bright smile, almost as if he was expecting it. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yeah, no doubt about it. That’s my girl.”

I stopped the words that were about to spill out of my mouth and replaced them with a different set. “I’m not your girl anymore.” I looked down at my watch, more for symbolic effect than to check the time. “I will definitely be telling Coach Foster if you’re late to the conference room. You have five minutes left.”

Without giving him a chance to process what had happened, I turned again and headed pointedly to the conference room, my steps echoing my determination.

As I marched towards the conference room, my thoughts were a whirlwind. The confrontation with Suna had set my nerves alight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my focus. The team’s future media presence rested on my shoulders, and I had to be professional, no matter how tangled my past with Suna was.

The conference room was a stark contrast to the bustling court. It was quiet and orderly, with a long table in the center surrounded by sleek chairs. I set my bag and binder down, pulling out my notes and arranging them meticulously. I had just enough time to compose myself before the players started trickling in.

First came Sakusa Kiyoomi, his expression inscrutable as he took a seat at the far end of the table. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging my presence without a word. Next were Hinata Shoyo and Bokuto Koutarou, chatting animatedly and filling the room with their infectious energy. They greeted me with enthusiastic smiles, making me feel a bit more at ease.

Finally, Suna walked in, casual and confident, as if our earlier exchange hadn’t affected him at all. He took a seat near the middle, flashing me a knowing grin. I ignored him and turned to face the team.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “As you know, my agency has been hired to manage your media presence; Kuroo Tetsuro will handle the rest of the coordinations or team promotions. My goal is to help each of you shine, both on and off the court. I’ll be working closely with you to develop your public personas and ensure you get the recognition you deserve.”

I paused, gauging their reactions. Most of the team seemed receptive, though Sakusa remained impassive. Suna leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“To start, I’d like to get to know each of you better,” I continued. “Understanding your personalities, interests, and goals will help me tailor our approach to suit you individually. We’ll go around the table, and each of you can share a bit about yourselves. Let’s start with you, Hinata.”

Hinata beamed and launched into a lively account of his journey in volleyball, his eyes shining with passion. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, the rest of the team was sharing their stories, laughing and bonding over shared experiences. Even Sakusa offered a few guarded sentences, and I could sense the walls between us beginning to crumble.

When it was Suna’s turn, he spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, detailing his rise to fame with practiced ease. I couldn’t help but notice the glances he threw my way, testing my reactions. “I even had a girlfriend once, with me all the way to the start of my professional career; can’t believe I let ‘er go” I met his gaze evenly, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.

“Thank you for sharing, Suna,” I said, cutting him off before he could drag out his story any longer. “It’s clear that each of you brings something unique to the team, and I’m excited to work with you all.”

I glanced at my notes, ready to move on to the next part of the meeting. “Now, let’s talk about some of the upcoming promotional events and media opportunities. We have a few scheduled interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. I’ll need your cooperation and input to make sure we present you in the best possible light.”

The discussion flowed smoothly, with the players offering ideas and feedback. Despite the initial tension, the atmosphere gradually became more collaborative. By the end of the meeting, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were laying the foundation for a successful partnership, and I was determined to prove myself as their media manager.

As the team began to disperse, Suna lingered behind, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. I braced myself for another confrontation, but he simply leaned against the table, watching me with an amused expression.

“You handled that well, Y/N,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’ve still got that fire.”

I paused, meeting his gaze. “I’m here to do a job, Suna. That’s all.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”

“What I want to believe? You think I asked for this position?” I was appalled that he was suggesting I deliberately choose this to seek him out.

He gave me a cocky grin and without another word, he pushed off from the table and walked out, leaving me standing there with a mix of emotions. I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories and focusing on the task at hand. There was a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on. Suna was NOT going to make me lose my head. He let me go once, and I had given him all of myself, it wasn’t happening again. Kuroo was definitely getting an earful ‘don’t be so dramatic, It’s gonna be fine’.

I huffed to myself finally stepping out of the room and on my way to my car, my hand automatically reaching for my phone, if I had to vent, Kuroo was getting it.

As I reached my car and slid into the driver's seat, I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed Kuroo's number. The phone rang a few times before his familiar, lazy voice answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? Seriously, Kuroo? You dumped the Olympic team’s media management on me, that’s what’s up!”

He chuckled, and I could practically hear his smug grin through the phone. “I knew you could handle it. You’re the best we’ve got.”

“Flattery isn’t going to save you,” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel. “You could have at least warned me about Suna being on the team. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?”

There was a brief pause, and then Kuroo sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You’re professionals, right? Just… don’t let him get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “He’s still as infuriating as ever.”

“Look, just focus on the job. You’re great at what you do, and the team needs you. Besides, Suna’s just one player. Don’t let him distract you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… complicated.”

“I know. But you’ve got this. If anyone can turn this team into media darlings, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll do my best.”

“That's my girl,” he said with a note of pride in his voice. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“Will do. And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, give me a heads-up, will you?”

He laughed. “You got it. Take care, Y/N.”

I hung up and took a few moments to collect myself before starting the car. The drive home was a blur, my mind occupied with thoughts of Suna and the daunting task ahead. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had resolved to put all personal feelings aside and focus solely on my work.

The next morning, I arrived at the training facility early, armed with my binder and a renewed sense of determination. Today, I had individual meetings scheduled with each player to discuss their personal branding and media strategy. I hoped to gain a deeper understanding of their personalities and how best to present them to the public.

Hinata was first. His energy was infectious, and his enthusiasm for the sport shone through every word he said. We discussed his goals and how to leverage his vibrant personality to connect with fans.

Next was Bokuto, who was equally charismatic but in a more boisterous way. His love for the game was palpable, and I made notes on how to highlight his dynamic presence in interviews and social media.

Sakusa was a bit more challenging. He was reserved and guarded, but I managed to coax out his interests and preferences. We discussed ways to showcase his quieter, more introspective side while still appealing to the team's fanbase.

Finally, it was Suna’s turn. He sauntered into the conference room with his usual nonchalance, sitting down across from me with a smirk.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

I ignored his tone and focused on my notes. “Alright, Suna. I want to understand your goals and how we can present you to the public. What are you hoping to achieve with your media presence?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think people care about that stuff?”

“Yes, I do. Your fans want to know more about you than just your performance on the court. They want to connect with you as a person.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I want to be seen as a serious athlete. I don’t want all that fluff and nonsense. Just focus on my game.”

I nodded, jotting down his words. “Got it. We’ll highlight your dedication and professionalism. Anything else you want to add?”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “You still care about what people think, don’t you?”

I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “It’s my job to care, Suna. And it’s yours too, whether you like it or not.”

He smirked again, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “You’ve changed, Y/N. You’re tougher now.”

“I had to be,” I replied, packing up my things. “Meeting’s over. Thanks for your time.”

As I walked out of the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Suna was watching me, his eyes lingering longer than necessary. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was determined to succeed.

Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into my work, coordinating interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. The players gradually warmed up to me, and we began to build a cohesive media strategy that highlighted their unique strengths.

Despite my initial apprehension, things started to fall into place. The team’s media presence improved, and their popularity soared. Even Sakusa, with his reserved nature, began to open up in front of the camera.

Through it all, Suna remained a constant challenge. He was professional during our meetings, but there was always an undercurrent of tension between us. Yet, I couldn’t deny that working with him pushed me to be better, to stay focused and not let my emotions get in the way.

One evening, after a particularly successful interview session, I found myself alone in the conference room, reviewing the footage. The door creaked open, and Suna walked in, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” I replied, not looking up from my notes.

He walked over and sat down across from me, his gaze fixed on my face. “You’ve done a good job with the team.”

“Thanks,” I said, still focused on my work. “We’re not done yet, though. There’s always room for improvement.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made a difference. Even I can see that.”

I finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Suna?”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For everything. High school, the way I ended things. I was a jerk.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden sincerity. “Why now?”

“Because I’ve had a lot of time to think. And seeing you here, working so hard, made me realize how much I messed up.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. “I appreciate the apology, Suna. But it doesn’t change what happened.”

He stays silence his eyes seeming to be inspecting my face, as if looking for something else “I know, I still wanted to try” 

I studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all I saw was genuine regret. “Fine”

He smiled, a real, honest smile that made my heart ache with nostalgia. I hate that I genuinely miss him. 

As he stood up to leave, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders; but a certain, different desire settled in me. I watched him leave, and closed my eyes for a second. It seems watching him leave was all I knew how to do. 

I turned back to my notes. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on, no matter what challenges came my way; but maybe I needed Kuroo to come along with me more often, even if he was busy getting the schedules and making the plans. 

One afternoon, after hours of looking through notes and interview footage, I found myself in the staff lounge, nursing a cup of coffee. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I was lost in thought when the door opened, and Kuroo walked in, looking as tired as I felt.

“Hey,” he said, flopping down in the chair next to mine. “How’s it going?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Busy. Exhausting. But good. The team’s doing great.”

Kuroo nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. Glad I choose you to help me out, I don’t know how I’d do it without you”

I smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Thanks, Kuroo, I apreciate the apreciation; what are you doing here anyway? Mister sports promoter not have a big fancy office at a big fancy building?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face me, the scrutiny in his eyes heavy “I want to wear gym clothes every once in a while, and I cant do that at the office. Miss sports media manager” I smiled and nooded, showing I understood. 

I mean, he was right, one of the couple of upside of working in the training arena was the ability of being able to show up in sweats and leggings, as it was the most proper attire. 

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “But seriously, if you need anything, just let me know. We’re in this together, even if I am technically your boss”

“Actually,” I said, glancing at him, “I was thinking if you could come along to a few more of the meetings. Having you there would make things a bit easier.” My voice filled with hope. 

Kuroo looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “Of course. I’ll rearrange my schedule. All the player meetings or someone in particular?”

I felt like a deer caugh in headlights “well… uhm…”

“So just Suna Rintarou?” he asked with a knowing tone, and I couldn’t deny it; I just hoped he would agree to it and not pull the ‘I’m your boss’ card, not that he ever did “Sure, I’ll do the meetings with Suna and pass along the info” 

“Thanks, Kuroo,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

He grinned, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when the meetings with Suna are”

“Will do,” I replied, watching him leave the lounge. As I turned back to my coffee, noticing it was cold. 

I was going to start seeing Suna a lot less often, no more weekly meetings with him, and I would try to make my time in the office a little more unnavailable to him by doing them exclusively during practice hours. This was something high school me would’ve come up with, and I knew that, but I don’t currently have the mental space to come up with something better. 

(part 2)

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Spells To Forget Us

YA witchy romance

a powerful teen witch who’s expected to take over her grandmother’s witch council role

and a girl struggling under the public pressure of being the focus of her family’s influencer blogging content

when they meet they’re immediately drawn together and start dating - and the witch casts a required spell so that if they break up, the mundane will forget about magic and their relationship

then they break up. and both forget. and then they meet and start dating again, regaining all their memories

the cycle keeps continuing, and they have to figure out how to deal with their issues their family expectations are causing so that they can potentially have a real chance together

bi & lesbian MCs